Salsa Dancing and Hip-Hopping Asians

On Saturday I decided that I was going to go ballroom dancing. I mean Latin/Ballroom dance is something I have been interested in for a while now so when I found out that NYU had a team that gives free Saturday afternoon lessons, I was all for it. My partners in crime—Veronica and Paula from across the hall, were otherwise occupied so I decided to embark on this little adventure on my own.

Finding the gym wasn’t too difficult. One of the main draws of living on 34^th street is that pretty much every line is somewhere around here so it’s a matter of finding what’s what and then going about your business. So anyway, I get off at the right stop exit the subway and go through my usual 30 seconds to a minute of staring at the street signs and having no idea which direction to go in. I call the gym, give the lady my cross streets and ask how to proceed.

Her: Um, *smacks bubble gum nonchalantly* we’re on Mercer Street.

Me: Yes, I know. I have the address, I just need to know how to get there from here.

Her: I think you’re only a few blocks away—maybe you should just ask someone on the street.

I’m generally against randomly asking New Yorkers for directions. It’s not that I think they’re rude (everyone has been pretty nice to me so far) but they always look so busy. Lol. That being said, I had no idea where I was going so I compromised and asked a food vendor selling hot dogs and pretzels on the corner.

Me: Which direction is Mercer Street?

Him: You are so beautiful. I have been watching you.

*SUUUUUUPER AWKWARD SILENCE*

Me: Um, oh, well, uh, so do you know where Mercer Street is?

He points me in the right direction and I make a hasty retreat. (I’ll take a moment to point out that recently it seems every time I’m getting hit on it’s by some old/awkward/creepy guy! What I wouldn’t give for some fine guy in my age bracket to say those same words—minus the “I’ve been watching you.”) Anyway, I made it to the gym safe and sound and the dance class was fun. We did an hour of beginning salsa and then an hour of swing. At the end of the class, this Asian girl I met came up to me and asked if I wanted to go to a hip hop class going on down the street.

Not stopping to consider the fact that I am extremely out of shape and four hours of dancing might not be the best idea ever, I said yea and we headed off. We get to the hip hop class and I’m lookin around like “ummmmm…” when all of a sudden this guy gets up and says “Welcome to the International Filipino Hip Hop Dance Association,” at which point I say to myself, “Thaaaaat explains why there are so many Asians here!” So yes ya’ll, I am now a part of an Asian hip hop dance crew and every time I think about it, I LMAO. But hey, this semester is all about trying new things and in LC Land, this is about as new as it gets. HAHA

P.S. Apparently four years of “dancing” (and I use that word loosely) in the club does not necessarily mean that you are prepared to learn a “hip hop” routine that involves a synchronized group on stage in front of an audience. Go figure.