Just Dance

I'm trying to get back into shape after being out for the last few months with an IT Band injury. I probably could have started being active awhile ago but I milked the injury for as much time off as possible. To even consider jumping back into running is just a little too much right now, and it's freezing outside. So I turned to my favorite recreational activity, dancing.

My training in dance amounts to years of junior high and high school Roger-Rabbiting, Cabbage-Patching, and Kid-'N-Playing. In fact, I mastered these forms and have busted them out at weddings, in clubs, and on the sidewalk. I also studied in Costa Rica in college so I perfected the gringa version of the salsa and merengue. My hips don't lie but they are also delusional.

Anyway I went to a dance studio after calling and interrogating the Russian receptionist. I made her assure me that it was a beginner class and that I would be just fine. "No training NEEDED right?" "vight, nyet training needed." "I mean it's really easy choreography right?" "Da, easy choreography." So I put on my dancing Nikes and jumped into the class. We started right away with 1 and 2 and 3 and 4. I'm like alright I got this. 30 minutes later when we were still building our routine I realized that I would probably not get the chance to display my Roger Rabbit. In fact, I couldn't remember past the first 5, 6, 7, 8. I left after an hour barely sweating and feeling really stupid. Oh the other people in the class?...They were great and completed the routine flawlessly.

On my walk home I thought to myself ok maybe I'm not stupid, I mean I am in New York and the other people in my class certainly have taken dance before so I need to stick to gym dance classes. I then signed up for a 2 week trial at NYSC. I marched right into the hip hop dance class and remained in the back of the class even though I wanted to show off my moves in the front. As the teacher was setting up his play list Lady Gaga pumped out and it was on. Then after warming up he says "for those of you who have never taken this class you're gonna wanna stay in the back. We're building on a routine from last week." I almost yelled out a NOOOOOOO! What followed? A routine that could be on So You Think You Can Dance. I mean he thought he was Shane Sparks. It was obvious everyone in the class had formal training except for me. I looked like Elaine Benes occasionally throwing in jazz hands in a hip hop class. I left class like a child who is afraid of getting hit by balls leaving soccer practice: relieved it's over and traumatized.

So what the hell is going on in this city anyway? Is it not okay to be a mediocre dancer and just follow the instructor while you pretend like you can Pop and Lock? Since when are gyms all-star dance studios? It's like New York is telling me "if you aren't the best then why bother?" But I scraped myself up off the dance floor the next night and went to a Zumba class. It was mostly latin dancing and an added lil hip hop edge to it. I danced in the front of the class and followed the teacher like the Roger-Rabbiting pro I know.