I had my first salsa dancing lesson tonight, and it was great.
I took on this challenge as somewhere in the beginning of 2010 I decided to become a Yes Man (or woman, as it were), and enthusiastically reply in the affirmative to suggestions that I would not normally consider (heads up: this is not going to become some kind of "Year of Yes" blog experiment or anything, as I do not want to steal Danny Wallace's thunder or be sued under copyright laws).
But yes; this is how I have found myself doing vodka and/or tequila shots at parties when I know I despise these drinks from past experience, why I am playing tennis on Wednesday with workmates, why I purchased a tie-dye t-shirt from the hippie store in the mall, and why I am eating seven-day old pasta leftovers as I type this (for any regular readers, if you do indeed exist, yes, it is the previously mentioned tomato and vegetarian sausage dish). Fingers crossed, people. I think it's okay to eat.
But the point is: salsa dancing was pretty fun, although I mistakenly wore Converse high-tops so when it came time to "spin!" I nearly broke an ankle 'cause my foot stuck to the polished wood floor. But it worked out just fine in the end, and although I was very uncoordinated, I was pleased for being brave enough to try something new. Tequila still makes me vomit though.