La Nuit Blanche

I can forgive a crappy floor, as long as there’s some consistancy.  Or, as long as it’s level, I can be happy dancing on tarmac.

However, a crappy floor that is also simulating ocean waves makes me really mad.  Up down up down…  I can’t tell where my toe or heel will end up, so my steps fall too short or too long every other beat, and my knees buckle everytime I miscalculate.  So, I guess this is good-bye to one milonga here in New York.

:-/

Well, I was getting annoyed there anyway.  Every time I go, they’d take pictures of me and post them up on their internet photo album, then use them as advertising for their next milonga.  They do this to everyone who goes there.  I have five objections to this:

One, the pictures are fugly.
Two, they do this without asking my permission.
Three, the constant camera flash disrupts my dancing.
Four, the pictures are fugly.
Five, did I mention the pictures are fugly?

I don’t know how people keep going there.  I don’t know how I’ve kept going there.

In any case, for whatever reason, no more, para mi.

(God, I miss Canning…)