Swing along

It is a bit like this joke once told by Mike Bloomberg in the Harvard Club, or like the supertoy that you unpack and then it does not talk and does not walk and certainly not fly. Today was a swing lesson. The teacher was not the nice woman who taught Salsa last week, it was some strange German sadist, who wanted to mae sure that everybody in the room knows that they are absolute beginners. Frightening. It is always fun to hear my name twisted and turned into Vito, or Veto. “I never hear this name before.” “It is a Polish name. Very popular in Poland.” And then there was Teresa. She just smiled. She was maybe 40 and definitely from Poland. I did not even bother asking if she spoke the language, just asked her in Polish where she was from. “From Lódz, the city.” as if there was a Lódz, the country. I knew exactly what she meant though. This girl in Paris hugged me last December hugged me because I also was from New York. She was from Syracuse, New York. Teresa had some issues with the spin. I had some issues with the dance teacher. The lesson is over now. “If you sing zet you kan not remember anyzing, do not worri, just come back next veek.” Oh, I certainly will. Step, step, rockstep.
The girl across broadway has a huge Viking helmet on. She is on the phone. Her brother, who usually spends hours and hours playing video games is jumping around her like a crazy monkey. I will now take a step back again. Rockstep.

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This page contains a single entry by Witold published on October 29, 2002 8:26 PM.

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