Tuesday, September 25, 2018


The other night at the One2One, while dancing with Maria, I stepped back with my right foot to open the door for a CBL.  Just after I planted my foot, Marcelo, dancing behind me, stepped back with his left for an Open Break. His heel caught my foot high on the ankle.

( I know I was there first because my foot was on the bottom.) 

As I steeled myself for a foot injury, he did not transfer his weight onto his heel.  Instead, feeling my presence, he maintained his balance, stayed on his toes, and pushed off into a spin.  His dancer’s awareness and athleticism saved my foot.

Monday, July 9, 2018


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Viernes Sociales was hot like a mutherfucker. A heady mixture of estrogen and testosterone filled the air. At one point, Mariah got stepped on by a stiletto-clad heel. As I pressed ice on the swelling, three inch long gash on the top of her foot, I reassured her with the thought that she had just made a blood sacrifice to the salsa gods.

Thursday, June 14, 2018


Last night at the Pura Austin salsa social:

me: See those four chachos sitting over there?
She: Yeah.
me: That's a Murderers' Row of salseros. They don't know if you can dance. I'm showing them you can.
She: Thank you.

Thursday, April 26, 2018

The watchers

As I sat with my buddy last night at the One2One, we witnessed a woman dancing spasmodically, with great enthusiasm and effort, to the timba band.
me: She's dancing like nobody's watching.
He: Yeah.
me: The bad news is, we're watching.

Monday, April 16, 2018


me:   Hi! Where have you been? Haven't seen you in a while.
She:  I've been busy.
me:   Let me guess. It's either involves a car wreck or a boyfriend.
She:  Neither.  6 months ago I started an intensive boot camp to become a certified dog trainer.
        I just finished. Now I hate dogs.

Saturday, March 17, 2018

The cat

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A couple of months ago, as I sat in my usual front row seat at the One2One waiting for the timba band to start, a young lady in her early twenties walked past me diagonally on the way to the ladies room.  As she passed, I thought to myself:  “There goes a dancer.”  She walked like a cat.

Later, we danced.  From previous experience, I knew that U.T. dance majors go out on the town, hit random clubs, and dance whatever dance they find there.  She was one of those.  She could do anything I asked of her, flawlessly, the first time.  Amazing. 

As the song ended, I dropped my most difficult move on her, ending in a cuddle, which she followed perfectly, and then blew her out into a triple inside spin.  She returned to me, welcomed a hug with outstretched arms, and then walked into the night, without looking back.  She walked like a cat.

Sunday, February 18, 2018

I remember you

At a dance studio recently, I sat with a lovely salsa partner of mine as we watched her new boyfriend struggle through a beginner’s On2 class with Robbie Sky.  During our conversation, she told me an interesting story.

It seems this young man began pursuing her affections last summer.  After they had gone out on a few dates, she told him he had to learn salsa, because a non-dancing significant other was a deal-breaker.

His replied:  “Whatever it takes” and began lessons.

Later she told him: “I don’t know if we are going to make it as a couple or not; time will tell.  But even if we don’t make it, you’ll always remember me, because I introduced you to salsa.”