Part Three!
My
weekend is almost over! After partying
at my husband’s parent’s place, my brother and I began our tango
adventure. And what a crazy adventure
that was! Some parts of it were so
random that I have to divide it into 4 stories:
1. “The Tale Of ‘I Forgot My Pants’”
2. “A Harrowing Ride Through New York City With A View Of
Someone’s Butt” (I’m sure you’re wondering about this one!)
3. “Milonga-ing The Night Away: A Review Of MalaLECHE”
4. “What Do You Mean We Have To Wait?! A Review Of How
Comfortable The Street Is Outside The Train Station”
If you just want the review, just scroll down until you see the title of the third story.
So, Story One:
“The Tale Of ‘I Forgot My Pants”
I should mention right off the bat that I’m not much of an
adventurer, but my brother is. Nate
prefers to own a Jeep rather than a practical sedan, and he will hang out with
just about anyone. Like last month, when
he was in a car accident, he and the women who hit him ended up in the ER with
minor injuries. They got to talking and
ended up going to a pizza restaurant afterwards with some of Nate’s friends who
came to pick him up.
So now that I have this story set up, apparently I lingered
a bit too long when I said good-bye to my in-laws, and we ended up at the New
Haven train station with only 5 minutes to purchase tickets and board the
train. Of course, the computer messages
at each track weren’t working, so as we were sprinting through the underground
tunnel, we had to guess which track to take.
We were joined in our guesswork by a young woman who was desperately
searching for the same train.
We guessed wrong. We
found ourselves off by one platform, watching as our train started off without us.
So now we had an hour to kill. Being the introverted little bookworm that I
am, I was all for just sitting on a bench and reading, but Nate had this idea
in his head of going to a nearby bar and having a quick drink. He turns to the young lady who was supposed to be on the same train, and asks her if
she wanted to join us. She was all for
it! She also offered to give us a
ride. Being the cautious woman that I
am, I’m feeling a little hesitant about the whole thing, but I go along with
the idea. Nate suggests a bar, the woman
is game.
Then the woman tells us she’s waiting for her ride. Her roommate is picking us up. Now I have the pilot episode of Criminal Minds running through my head
(why am I watching this show again when it just freaks me out? Why?!) and I’m
wondering if we're going to be killed by some careless driving or a serial killer and we'll never see our families again. But the woman looks normal and smart (turns
out she’s a Yale graduate student), so I go with my first impressions on this one.
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| front door of Firehouse 12 |
The roommate arrives at the train station with us having
only 45 minutes left before the next train (the roommate turned out to be a
normal, safe-looking woman, by the way, not some crazy person). We head
over to the bar, but since it turns out to have a cover charge, we end up going
to the Firehouse 12 bar a block down. Nate
and the 2 ladies each get a shot of fire whiskey, I chose to stay alcohol-free
since drinking made me drowsy. 15
seconds later, we have to go because we have only 20 minutes left until the
next train (that was short!).
Halfway back to the station, Nate realizes that he forgot
his pants at the bar (I should probably mention that Nate had a pair of pants on
a hanger for the Milonga, and that's what he left at the bar. Why he brought
the pants into the bar instead of leaving them in the car, I don’t know). So Roommate had to turn the car around and
drive back to the bar so he can get his pants, and then race back to the train
station, where we finally managed to board the train with a few minutes to
spare. We now have a funny story to
share (“remember when we took that guy to the bar for a quick shot and then he
forgot his pants?”) and Nate made a new friend.
The train turned out to be a party train full of loud
people, so none of us could nap (I’m glad I chose not to drink, otherwise I
would have been drowsy and irritable). I
listened to my audiobook on my CD player, while Nate chatted with his new
Yale friend about the last time they actually saw
CD players. We arrived in New York at
10:45 p.m., and it was pouring rain, which leads me to my next story:
“A Harrowing Ride Through New York City With A View Of
Someone’s Butt”
So, it’s pouring rain, and it’s windy, and it looks like it
would be a miserable walk to the dance studio, so Nate suggests we get a cab,
and I agree. But everyone is trying to
get a cab, so the only thing Nate’s accomplishing is getting wet in the
rain, and the only cab that stopped in front
of the station was an unmarked black car that clearly wasn’t a taxi cab, just someone looking to make some cash.
Just then one of those bicycle taxis pulled up in front of
us and asked us if we wanted a ride.
Nate asked the cyclist if he could take us to 8th avenue, and
the guy responds, “I just came from there.
I can get you there! 4 dollars a
minute.” Pricey, but Nate and I were intrigued.
I mean, how often do you get to say that you rode in a pedicab, and
neither of us have ever done it before, so we decided it was worth the extra
expense, hopped into the little seat, and we were off!
 |
| A pedicab |
That trip turned out to be one of the most terrifying yet
entertaining rides I’ve ever been on. We
got an excellent, leisurely look at New York, but at the same time we ended up
feeling every bump and rut in the road, and some of those cars came in a little
too close for comfort! I kept thinking
that maybe I should have signed up for that life insurance after all, since it
kept looking like I might die within the next few seconds.
At one point, the cyclist turns around and asks us, “Do you
mind if I go fast?” Nate’s response:
“sure!” My response (with some hesitation):
“sure?” We discovered that going fast
meant coasting downhill with no brakes.
The guy just stood up on his pedals and let gravity speed us down. Nate and I were freaking out yet enjoying it
the whole time. I kept recalling that
bikes don’t brake well in the rain, so naturally I was wondering whether I
should call Dave and just tell him that I love him.
At least we got an excellent view of the cyclist’s butt with his little
spandex shorts (hence the story title. Now you get it)
The cyclist didn’t try to scam us, fortunately. He took us to where we needed to go, via the
shortest route possible, so the whole trip took us only 12 minutes ($48). I have to say, this guy was able to pull 290
pounds worth of human through New York within 12 minutes, with some uphill, and
with us not being his first customers of the night. That man has some serious muscle! No wonder his butt looked so nice! :P
 |
| Us in the pedicab |
So now we have finally arrived at the Milonga, which
finally brings me to my review:
“Milonga-ing The Night Away: A Review Of MalaLECHE”
What Is It?
A monthly Milonga in New York City, takes place every 1st
Saturday, ends at around 3 a.m.
Where Is It?
At a studio called You Should Be Dancing Dance, on 412 8th
ave, on the 4th floor (between 30th and 31st st). Don’t take the elevator, apparently it’s
really slow.
Why Is It Good?
This is a good place for experienced tango dancers to
socialize, with many excellent dancers, and two separate rooms for dancing; one
for the more traditional tango songs, the other for alternative songs (a more Nuevo
style).
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| Adam and Ciko, the hosts |
This dance reminded me of the Nocturne Milonga I attended
some months back; it even had some of the same dancers as Nocturne. And Nocturne was fun!
This event was affordable (only $12), and the music was
good too, with good songs for both the tandas and cortinas (a tanda is set of 3
to 5 songs, with a musical pause, or “Cortina” in between). I like the setup of tandas: they give you at
least 8 minutes of dancing with one partner, so you get a chance to create a
good dancing relationship with said partner.
I was feeling pretty good for the first couple of hours; I
felt like I was responding well to my partners, particularly with some of the
harder movements, and the leaders I danced with seemed genuinely pleased with
my ability to follow. And I danced with
some good dancers too! It was turning
out to be a great night.
I wish I could say I felt good for the rest of the night
however. After the performance by the guest
teachers, something changed. Maybe the
exhaustion from the events of the past 30 hours was finally catching up to me,
or my hungry stomach was affecting my physical energy, or maybe it was a
combination of the two, but my dance confidence started to diminish with each
tanda I did.
When I lead at a dance, and I notice
that my partner’s not following my steps well, I revert back to my more basic
moves, and that night at MalaLECHE I could feel my leaders do exactly that with me. They kept repeating the simpler moves, and
every time they tried something harder, I would screw up. My confidence was completely shattered with
the last tanda I did. I correctly
guessed that he was a teacher based on how he kept correcting me. Not only did he stop doing complex moves and did
just the basics, he also silently but discernably corrected my close embrace
multiple times. He made his movements
painfully slow and obvious. Suffice it
to say that I failed miserably, and I felt so awful about my ability to dance tango
that after that tanda I decided to call it a night and wait out the next
hour-and-a-half while Nate finished dancing.
Remember how I said unsolicited teaching can ruin a person’s night? Well, here’s a perfect example of how it
ruined mine.
The rest of the Milonga was a lot of fun to watch. There were quite a number of beautiful
dancers, and some of the moves looked outrageously awesome. This really is a good place to go for some
excellent Argentine Tango, and my experiences earlier that night can prove
that. The people are nice, and the environment
in general reflects the culture of tango.
I will warn those who are interested in going however. This is not an event for tango beginners. I would recommend this to intermediate and advanced dancers only. And this dance goes on until 3 a.m., so if you have a tendency to end your night at 11 p.m., this is not the dance for you. Finally, the dancers at this event prefer close embrace; from the very first song, I was in extremely close contact with complete strangers, and when I say close, I mean my head was plastered up against his, and my whole torso was pressed against his side. I personally enjoy close embrace since it makes following easier to do, but I used to be one of those people who didn't feel comfortable with it at all. So, be warned, close embrace is expected at milongas such as these. Otherwise, have fun!
By 3 a.m., Nate and I were
both starving so we headed out for some food at a diner Nate went to before,
which leads me to my final story:
“What Do You Mean We Have To Wait?! A Review Of How
Comfortable The Street Is Outside The Train Station”
So we walked to the diner, which was about 20 minutes
away. The streets were getting pretty
quiet, for New York anyway, and the rain had stopped long ago. The diner was one of those 24-hour ones with
a bar; we thought it would be kind of cool to eat breakfast and have a drink as
well while we waited for the first available train. Well, unfortunately, they had stopped serving
alcoholic beverages, so having an old-fashioned was out of the question, but
the breakfast was still pretty darn good.
And we had a nice comfortable chat with the manager, so that was fun.
At 4 a.m. we left the diner and headed over to Grand
Central Train Station. We figured we’d
head in and chill out on a bench until our train arrived. It wasn’t until we actually got there at 4:30
a.m. that we discovered an unpleasant truth: the train station is closed from 2
a.m. to 5:30 a.m., most likely as a deterrent for the homeless, but darned inconvenient
for everyone else. Because we were
tired, stiff, and sore from all that dancing, we discovered another unpleasant
truth; there are no benches on 42nd street.
Nate and I walked for a few more minutes,
trying to find something other than the nasty sidewalk to sit on, and we
finally chose a short, yet wide, stone wall lining some steps in front of a closed café
across the street from the station entrance (I wish we could have gone into the café, but that would have been
too good to be true). We sat down, placed
our bags on our laps, and rested our heads on top. We managed to doze on and off, despite the
noise and the chill. By the time the
doors opened at 5:15, we were cold, pooped, and in complete sympathy with the
poor homeless people who have to sleep outside (they really need to put some
benches out there). Suffice it to say,
we were relieved when we finally got on that train. And we were not alone in that regard
either. Everyone looked cold and tired,
and all were passed out in their seats on the train, including Nate and
myself. We almost missed getting off at
our stop, we were so zonked, but once we were up and heading out into the
daylight, we strangely felt quite refreshed.
Nate dropped me off at home at 8:15 a.m. and I’ve been at home resting
and writing reviews ever since.
So, thus ends my weekend of dancing. I’m sure if anyone missed me at Sunday’s
dance classes, they would understand why I chose to stay home. I was so physically spent that any more dancing
would have been too much.
This upcoming weekend is probably going to be just as busy,
although I’m probably going to stay in Connecticut this time.
Happy dancing everyone!
Lisa Spiro
For more on MalaLECHE, click here to visit their website.
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