Later that night, I found the strength to tear myself away from Dwayne. As fun as it was, I didn’t come halfway across the world to play with him. I had an appointment with my cute dance instructor. We only had one more day in El Selvadorada, and I did not intend to go home without mastering the Rumbasim. So I showered, changed, and went back to the bar. My dance friend-teacher was there already, but he was upset about something. I was afraid he wouldn’t be in the mood to tolerate me, but he perked up enough to teach me the steps. I can throw my hips and shimmy with the best of them, so that part was easy. It was the turns and the foot work that tripped me up. I kept turning the wrong way, bumping into other dancers. Luckily, the music stayed on Latin pop for the rest of the night, and eventually I got it down!
I was doing it! I was really doing! The old man next to me must have thought I did it well because he cut in and joined me.
