SOS loves me and I love them back

October 2, 2005

I glanced at the clock; it said 6 PM. One of my favorite colleagues had entered the empty room. She is so breathtakingly lovely that every time I see her, I think my heart skips a beat. She looked at me and then frowned. She said, “You look very tired.” I smiled and agreed but did not elaborate. We talked for a short while and then she said, “Well, I’m going to go look after my babies. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I had already missed my usual deadline to depart for SOS, which is 5 PM. Also, two friends who I invited for tonight’s outing had backed out for various reasons. I decided that I have done as much as I could for now and wrapped things up as I told myself, “Okay, I’m definitely going to miss the lessons this time. But I really need to go to SOS tonight no matter what.”

As I drive down M11, I feel turmoil in my mind slowly dissipating away. I grab a quick bite when I get to Tavistock Place. I already feel at peace with myself. I can feel that this is going to be good. No bombs. No Scala. SOS as it normally is – the best Salsa dancing spot I have been to thus far in my life.

I enter the ballroom. I see the usual greeter and cashier, who recognizes me, smiles and says, “Have a great night.” I reply, “I know I will. I always do.” I look around. I feel like I’m a child in a candy store. No. Make it – I feel like I’m Charlie in Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

I am sore. I had never felt the need to stretch, but I do this time. Then comes the first dance – the warm-up dance. Good. Next. Good. Next. I’m getting into the groove. It’s great knowing that I could grab a random woman at SOS and be about 80-90% confident that I’ll enjoy dancing with my partner.

Tonight seems very special. I’m having a blast. I think my dance partners are having wonderful time too. It’s infectious. It’s simply marvelous. It doesn’t matter if I screw up. I don’t care if my partner misses something – it’s always leader’s fault anyway. During my short breaks, I sometimes look at other dancers. I used to think others were way better than me. Tonight I look at them and think that well over half of the leaders don’t look all that good after all!

Two other groups from Cambridge are here, and I greet them all. One of them is almost like a friend now even though we really don’t know each other at all outside the dance hall. He tells me that I really should come here more often.

I look at the clock. It’s almost closing time. For the last dance, I ask the one of the partner who seemed to have had especially good time dancing with me earlier in the evening. The song ends. Another song comes on. It doesn’t matter; I already had my last dance. We give each other pecks on each other’s cheeks.

We talk through the next song and beyond. She tells me about the beginnings of SOS – about a woman from Chilean embassy starting up this place as a Salsa venue, about Leon, Tamambo and the SOS team taking over when the Chilean woman goes back home, and about the greeter/cashier who is Leon’s mom. She tells me it’s all a family affair. I tell her that Leon’s mother looks impossibly young and happy. I also say that I am now really exhausted but feel very happy about it. By the time we change and leave, the staff is half done with cleaning up; I can’t believe that I’m practically the last one to leave. She tells me, “Bring more of your friends from Cambridge.” We part ways at the door, and I head to my car. As I drive down Gray's Inn Road, I feel like a millionaire and my mind exclaims, “SOS loves me and I love them back.”