So I was rocking it out yesterday at the dance studio… NOT. Who would’ve thought that at 21 (+10) and with both my legs functioning, I would have lost the ability to dance.
Shall I just say that the evening did not go according to plan either. My housemate (whom we shall call “delirious”) dropped out at the last minute feigning some sort of ailment… mind you she is very healthy today and even jumped the showers before me at a bizarre 05:45 am… talk about bouncing back. Not to digress from the issue at hand, I work 08:00 – 16:00 but because of Delirious, I decided to wait to have the class at 19:30. Not only did I revise my starting time today to 09:00 – 17:00, I had to wait an additional 1.5 hours because going home and getting back into town would have been a wasted effort.
So, here I was, luggage in hand being the Nomad that I am, I successfully got on the bus 168 at 18:45, and sat in one of my favourite spots, just above the landing and close to the doors for a quick get out if needed. I tuned in to my favourite playlist on my blackberry whilst playing solitaire on the iPhone. The journey was estimated to last 32 minutes after which I would be showing off my sexy dance moves. At intervals, I looked up to make sure my suitcase was still tucked in the luggage compartment, and also as a subtle reminder that I needed to grab it on the way out. I’m not going to go into the hilarious details of leaving my luggage on the train, bus, work, etc.. 25 short minutes later, the overhead voice announces my stop, and I am reeling with excitement. Out I get, pull out my map and begin to make my way to the dance studio. Nothing as beautiful as adrenaline rushing through your veins in healthy anticipation of fulfillment derived from the Cuban fever of Zumba. I got to the reception and just as I was about to begin the registration process… I realized that my hands were light. *%$”£*&^*^%$£^&**%$£”^&*^%$%. That would be the sound of me cursing. The luggage had continued on the journey to Hampstead heath. Luckily, the bus terminated 5 minutes away from the dance studio, so I gave my apologies in advance as I anticipated a 15 minute delay as I sprinted after my luggage. Considering I have not run in over 6 weeks, it’s not that easy to pick up and chase a bus that is not in sight for starters, but I managed to get there and my confusion increased. There were at least 8 buses with the same number. Not one to be held back, I ran to the first bus, and started banging on doors to ask the drivers if they had my suitcase. 3 doors down, and I got lucky. After checking to make sure everything was inside, I started to make my way back to the center holding the handle of my suitcase tight as if that was supposed to make up for casually forgetting it previously. 7 minutes later I made my way up to the studio, out of breath but ready all the same to carry on with my plan for vigorous exercise.
I heard some crazy Latin song drumming from the speakers as I got to the room, so quickly I rushed and took my place….. So this was supposed to be easy yeah? In simple terms, before I could attempt to raise my legs let alone move forward, this crazy woman hiding under the umbrella of an instructor had disappeared. If anything, she could have been in the cast of dancers from the movie coming to America . She was all over the place with these funny expressions and faces she kept making.
Next thing I know, she’s in front of me hands high in the air. Before I could focus on her present position she had disappeared yet again. Can someone explain to me how I was supposed to keep up? 5 minutes later, I’m out of breath but determined to embarrass myself rather than fall to the ground gasping for air. If you have ever seen the 1992 movie called House sitter, the scene with Goldie Hawn at the gym, then you will begin to get a clear understanding of my dilemma.
Next thing I know, she’s in front of me hands high in the air. Before I could focus on her present position she had disappeared yet again. Can someone explain to me how I was supposed to keep up? 5 minutes later, I’m out of breath but determined to embarrass myself rather than fall to the ground gasping for air. If you have ever seen the 1992 movie called House sitter, the scene with Goldie Hawn at the gym, then you will begin to get a clear understanding of my dilemma.
Half an hour later, I looked like a window cleaner 3 floors up had mistakenly dropped a bucket of water and dealt me a proper drenching. We pause for water, at this point I realized I had also left my water bottle in the bus. So after a brief minute of rest, I had to endure another 15 minutes of pure dance while dehydrated and close to passing out.
I’m not as sure which one looked worse, having to see myself in the mirror looking like a chicken attempting to fly for the first time, or bumping into almost everyone within sight while attempting my moves. I do however have a couple of classes left to attend plus I have proactively gone and bought the Wii version to improve my skills and wipe the snicker off some faces.
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