White Girl Can't Dance

So I went with a friend from work to an African dance class tonight. Lots of footwork that looked simple but wasn't, and arm waving. I banged into people a couple of times. I was born without the rhythm gene, but I tried my best. I really loved the rhythm of the drums and the hot, primal energy of it all. There's no ac in the studio; it's very city -- grungy, smelly. And great!

Also the drummers a H-O-T hot. Damn. They don't wear shirts and they sweat.

We dance in lines, five people to a line, two lines at a time, one after the other. I am nowhere near being ready to be at the front of the line. But I tried my best. It was a better experience than the modern dance class I took where we were told to shut our eyes and feel and dance anger. I danced myself, hard, right into a wall.