You know how the minute you say something like, “Spring has arrived!” the weather changes and snow is once again in the forecast? Well that is just what has happened. Mother Nature is laughing her ass off at me. While we were in Mexico last week, we met people from Canada, Colorado, Chicago, and other cold places who had come to Mexico to escape their brutal weather. I shot off my mouth saying, “We don’t come here for the weather. We come for the experience and the beach. Our weather in North Carolina is always, always mild.” And lo and behold, we came back to dreary cold weather that is threatening to get much worse this weekend. Snow! Are you kidding?
I am sitting here in the shop dreaming of the weather in Mexico: sunny, 84 degrees and breezy while i have the inadequate heater cranked to the max and I am freezing. Ah, to be back on vacation!
We go back to the same resort all the time, and it feels like a homecoming every time. The people who work at the resort are so kind and friendly and always make us feel special. They act as if they remember us from our last visit, although that is probably ridiculous. I do my best, however, to do stupid things that might just help them remember me.
This time we were sitting on the beach one afternoon guzzling margaritas when a live band started playing Latin rhythms. I was sitting there thinking about my Zumba class at the Y when this very good looking young man who is one of the recreation people pulled me to my feet. “Let’s dance!” he cried.
There was no one dancing on the beach, so I begged him to wait until other people got out there. “No!” he said,”We need to start so other people will join in.”
That made sense to me, and in my mind, as soon as we started moving towards to area in front of the band, everyone else would join us. That’s not what happened, though. Handsome Eric pulled me to the center of the beach where the sand was not as firm as I would have liked and showed me a few basic steps. Then he said, “You got it!” And we were dancing away! I felt like Chita Rivera.
Thanks to Sadie at the Y, the Zumba instructor, I knew more or less what I was doing, and I wiggled my hips appropriately until I was dying for another margarita and had to leave the dance floor. I realized as I headed back for my lounge chair that there were no other dancers on the beach and everyone was looking at me.
“Ron,” I asked,’Did I look ridiculous???”
He was all red, either because of embarrassment or sunburn. “No, you looked like you were doing some kind of Latin dance.”
These were not the words of encouragement I wished for. There was no “You looked amazing!” or “You can really dance.” But after that, people called me The Dancer. I probably looked like Elaine on that Seinfeld episode. But I never learn my lessons and will dance again, no doubt.
