Salsa Sundays

Last week my friend Juli and I decided to try sunday salsa with the salsa lessons at at Harvelles in Redondo Beach at the pier.
Juli is new to salsa and she did enjoy her class, but mine was not so great. I don't like classes and I particularly don't like some weird guy telling me I'm doing it wrong. I don't think there is "wrong" in recreational dancing! So we agreed that this week we would go again with my friend Luis, just for the dancing and skip the class. I have known Luis since I started dancing salsa in 1988. I know more than a few moves and grooves, but I would not classify my style as athlelic, "dancing with the stars" type of dancing. Luis has the same sensibility and so I figured with the 3 of us, it could be fun and good exercise!!

We used to dance at a place called Miami Spice in Venice. It has since been replaced with a Three Day Blinds or maybe a 99 cent store, but in its heyday, that place rocked! My friend Dianne and I, both from Ohio, used to love our cast of regulars.
We had the cha cha girls- these were the girls who dressed the part. They came in a trio, with high heel strappy sandals, short skirts, and usually a ruffled something or other. And big hair, lots of dramatic hair and makeup. We, on the other end of the spectrum were in jeans and cowboy boots.

All the men were heavy in the fragrance department. After a night of dancing, I HAD to shower before I went to bed.
Thier was one guy we called the Indian because he did look just like the Indian who was in One Flew Over the KooKoo's Nest- he barely moved his lips when he spoke and was a pretty smooth dancer. Then there was Tino the Latino--he had a mighty crush on Dianne and he counted when he danced and made a tisking noise with his mouth. After either of us danced with him, we could not look at each other for fear of laughing. And my personal favorite, Joe Mambo (yes, that's what he said his name was), right from Cuba. He was a little scary and he liked me a little more than I was comfortable with. One time he followed me outside and asked me if I wanted to have some pizza at the beach...but it came out like pitza at the bitch...it was with this accent that I can't explain..and such a wierd request!!

There was one guy named George. He was a little old bald man (I'm talking in his 60's in 1989) who came every week, stood on the sidelines and just clapped out the mambo beat with an amazing look of joy on his face. Every once in a while one of the women would dance with him. It seemed to be just enough for the old guy!

And I would be remiss if I did not mention the 2 guys who worked the door, Jose Luis and his brother Luis Jose. No kidding, I could not make that up. To know them was to get in. In fact, at one point Luis Jose became my car mechanic. And I always got moved to the front of the line!

There were many more but here is my point.

I have come to realize that the in Latin club culture, there is always a "Lucy and Ricky Ricardo" vibe, the characters are always there. Last night was great fun and I found a few new ones: hat guy who danced the enire night with his cap on and actually worked it into his moves, no matter who he danced with, drunk Columbian guy with the extra large gold cross...he was someone to stay away from and then us, my friend Juli, Luis and I, two white chicks from Redondo Beach and a guy from Panama who sort of looks like Lionel Ritchie. Because in case anyone else is keeping track, we too, are a part of the scene.

And for the record, George is now nearing 80, still going to the clubs, still joyfully clapping out that mambo beat.