Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Connoisseur of the Mediocre

               I love mashed potatoes. I like my coffee weak and my red wine with lots of ice. I am a connoisseur of the mediocre. I’m the kind of guy that buys a car because he likes the stereo. I’d go to Rome for a good piece of pizza:-)
               At a recent milonga in Minneapolis, a tanguera pointed out all the good dancers and suggested I dance with them. I wasn’t quite sure how to take her advice. I think it was a compliment but I didn’t know how to adequately convey to her that I was perfectly happy dancing with her.
               This wasn’t the usual tanguera ploy where I am asked to dance with a friend who’s not getting enough invites. I suspect she was just trying to be hospitable.
               Once again, I feel obliged to point out what I believe is a fundamental difference in what men and women look for in partners. IMHO, women long to dance with great leaders and men just want a relaxing dance with other women. 
               If Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers were accepting applications for new partners, Fred’s line of prospects would be out the door and around the block. Ginger’s column would probably be much shorter because not many men would find the encounter a tranquil one or may suffer from performance anxiety.
               Just because a woman is a great dancer doesn’t mean guys are beating a path to her door…and she may want it that way. The expert follower executes movements without restraint. It is in her nature which is part of the reason she puts so much work into becoming a better dancer.
               As a follower’s dexterity improves, so does her susceptibility to injury. She didn’t get that good staying behind the guard rail; she’s at the edge and leaning over it! If a leader is not careful, she can take a fall.
               As a beginner/intermediate leader, I have to be aware of my faults when I engage well-practiced tangueras. Yes, I will become a better dancer if I always partner with these ladies but I will also cause them much harm as well unless they have rock solid dance floor combat experience.  I’ve danced with these girls before and I know what I’m talking about. I have just enough skill to gain their trust but not enough to guarantee an accident won't occur due to a failure in communication.
               Once, in Manhattan, I was attempting a fancy move and my partner ended up in my lap. That was not my intention. I liked the outcome but we both could have gotten hurt. I asked her why she did that and she said that was exactly what I led.
               Here is another facet to consider about skilled tangueras: they can be very demanding. That is okay at practica but not at a milonga.

               For tangueros like me, who don’t have the time, or the will, to put into achieving proficiency, it is like being an ice fisherman in the spring; we have to tread very carefully when deciding where to drill a hole in the ice. Being a better leader comes with assuming more responsibilities. To dance with the best, a leader must also be up to the task.

Friday, August 16, 2013

Pieces of Meat

               A tanguera asked me recently, “What is it about a woman that makes men want to dance with her?”
               Without thinking, I answered, “That's because she is a great follower.”
               Seven years into my tango education, I can safely say that many ladies do not realize the enormity of this statement. If a man leads a movement and the follower merely makes a course correction, hanging onto him like a piece of meat, men don't find that enticing.
               Let me try to explain what I mean when I say, “…a great follower.”
               One aspect of tango that makes the experience incredibly enjoyable is that it takes two. The leader suggests a movement and the follower interprets what she believes is his intention. The woman's part is not just a change of direction, a pause or a simple shift of weight.
               Masami Hirokawa, a tango instructor from Santa Fe, once said at a workshop that a woman has to actively receive the lead. I don’t know how a follower does that but I do know what it feels like and it is positively delightful, especially during a pause.
               Learning to lead is hard. A leader has to hear the music, choreograph steps with attention to navigation and then indicate his plan to his partner. This is such a complex endeavor that many men give up.
               A desirable follower is practiced in the art of executing movement. She is a skilled listener, not just someone who passively complies. This is what makes tango illusionary. An observer cannot see the leader’s cues; they can only be heard by his partner. She pivots on her own axis, embellishes to the music and maintains her own balance. She is the other half of the dance, never less than that and yet, to the viewers, the dance is all about her.
               If the follower finds her role is not as complicated as the leader’s, then she is just a piece of meat waiting to be consumed. If that is the case, then she shouldn’t be surprised if her wait for a dance is a long one. Even the choicest of cuts are not listed as 'raw' on the menu. How well a tanguera prepares herself for an encounter on the dance floor is what makes men desire her for a return engagement.
              
              

               

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Women's Disappointment with Men

               I just saw the new X-Men movie, Wolverine. It is set in Japan and I found the women in it very appealing. Often my thoughts wandered back to Dance Manhattan and the Japanese tangueras I met there.
               What I absolutely love about New York City is the opportunity to meet women from other cultures. I grew up in Pennsylvania’s coal fields, a very ethnic place. I went to school with Russian-Americans, Ukrainian-Americans, Slovak-Americans, etc. In New York, the people I meet are actually from other countries.
               Dancing tango with these people gives me an insight into their culture that I could not get any other way. I get to feel how they move. I know if they're confident or anxious, what they smell like. I might even discern how they think. What I usually discover is that they are just like everybody else.
               At Mariella Franganillo’s Saturday practica at Dance Manhattan, at any one time there may be three to five Japanese ladies present. It took me a long time to gather up the courage to ask one of them to dance and I was rejected several times. In hindsight, I realize that cabeceo is the only way to get together with these girls. They seem to be very sensitive to how others see them and I think they don’t want to be seen accepting a verbal invitation to dance.
               I guess that could be said about a majority of tangueras but at most of the places I’ve been, the guys just ask.
               That was several years ago. I was a much different man back then. I was loud and crude. If a tanguera didn’t want to dance with me then I just moved on to the next one. 
                Before I would dance with these women, I had a very crucial lesson to learn.
               Guys grow up different than girls. I never paid attention to what was happening to the girls as they were socialized but I should have. I was too busy being a little boy: running, jumping, competing, kicking things, picking my nose, farting, burping and learning how to break things. All necessary skills to have if you want to be a juvenile delinquent......or a whitewater river guide.
               When I took up tango, I eventually became aware of a great sadness born by many women. There is something about the rough nature of men that distresses them. I sense that they need something more than just our willingness to dance. When they join in the embrace and don't find what they are looking for, they become despondent, like a gambler who has been dealt a losing hand seventy-two times in a row!
               This may be the secret to tango’s hold on the fairer sex. In tango, she finds hope that there are men who are pleasing to her senses. That hope is revealed to them because tango teaches a man how to hold a woman. This is not an easy task. It takes a man at least three years of tango training to master this seemingly simple assignment.
               Using my own experience as a guide, I’ll detail a man’s path to acquiring such a skill. In the first three months, a tanguero is certain he will become proficient very soon. The next three months he is obsessed with patterns, convinced that he could be a pleasing partner if he just had a few more combinations of movement in his shoe bag.
               After six months, the novice tanguero resigns himself to the complexity of this dance and contents himself to dance with beginners. A year later, he is bored with beginners and desires to join more skilled tangueras on the floor. For the next six months, he delights in the discovery of women who have the ability to move with him to the music. He finds his appetite for proficient partners increasing.
               Between one and two years, he meets more skilled tangueras and finds that they only dance with him once. After two years, he resigns himself to the fact that he must start over from the very beginning. He realizes that he must be able to move on his own balance while in the embrace of a woman. This is a humbling discovery but it is the beginning of true progress.
               During this time, a man also realizes how truly sensitive a woman is to everything about him; the way he smells, his leaning, bending, twitching, throat-clearing, his confidence, health, anxiety, etc. This is an epiphany for him.
               When a tanguero recognizes just how perceptive a woman is to everything he is doing, to all that he is, then he starts to become aware of the disappointment women often experience when they embrace a man and find that he is not what they were seeking. He can't define what exactly it is that these ladies need so he opts instead to discontinue the actions they find displeasing.
               After three years, a man learns to keep his mouth shut. He doesn’t know why but he has learned that talking is counterproductive. He also focuses on controlling his breathing so that he appears to be relaxed. At this point in his education, he can move on his own balance and is finally getting to dance with more skilled tangueras.
               By now, he has finally learned how to hold a woman. There are no shortcuts and a man has to continually work at overcoming the obstacles he unknowingly places before himself.
               I had finished my third year of tango education when I began to desire dances with the previously mentioned Japanese tangueras. It wasn’t until my fourth year that I began succeeding.
               At Mariella’s practica, I would attempt a cabeceo with at least one Japanese woman each time I went. I probably succeeded once a month. I moved away at the end of my fifth year, so the quantity of my experiences with these women is probably limited to twelve tandas.
               In my embrace, these ladies are just like many other non-American women I’ve encountered dancing tango: diligent and focused.
               American women have a tendency to be less attentive and less centered. I think that has something to do with having the ‘home field advantage’. I’m certain that if I was in another country, I’d find that the American women there worked harder and put more thought into what they were doing because they were in an unfamiliar country.
               My cabeceos to these women only succeeded if I made the invitation as discreet as possible. Also, when the tanda ended, my partner would usually turn and walk straight away. Even though I thought most of my performances with the Japanese tangueras went well, I suspect their impression was quite different. I have to wonder if I wasn’t doing something wrong at the end of those tandas.
               I know from my experiences with milonguero-style dancers in Albuquerque, that a certain amount of finesse needs to be applied when ending the embrace. I had been breaking the connection too quickly after the music stopped. What I needed to do with these milonguero-style dancers, and all close embrace partners, was to wait about three seconds after the melody completed and then slowly let my embrace dissipate.
               Be careful, here, there is a fine line between three seconds and inappropriately too long!
               While I watched the movie, I realized that I am attracted to Japanese women. When I tried to quantify what it was that I found so alluring, I decided that it was their demeanor. Most people fidget when they are not moving. They shift their weight, change their posture, look around and touch things. This is not so with the people from Japan that I have observed; when they are not moving, they are still.
               I suspect fidgeting is beaten out of them when they are in school, much the same way the nuns unsuccessfully tried to do to me when I was in the Catholic school system. Maybe this is the source of the wound that brings them to tango for healing.
               I am glad to have had a chance to dance with these women. Unknowingly, they became the fruit that enticed me to pull the wagon forward on the road to becoming a better tango dancer. I can’t wait until I see these same ladies again. I am hopeful that our next meetings will not be a disappointment to them.
                
              
Note: Check out my new book on Amazon: Fear of Intimacy and the Tango Cure.


               

Saturday, August 10, 2013

F is for Fargo

               It is very humid in Fargo in the summertime. I’ve been here nearly two weeks and I haven’t slept beneath my sheets once. The moisture in the air, compared to New Mexico, is as thick and warm as a blanket. I can feel it wrapping around me, permeating every pore of my skin. It feels good.
               It is very quiet here even though there are cars and machines of every type. There is something in the air that muffles the sound or maybe there is something missing. I can see now why writers go to a retreat to complete a literary work. I find myself writing a lot and enjoying the process.
               Whenever I talk to the people here I sense their apprehension. It is nice now but something bad is coming. It is like a predatory relative that one cannot escape. It is winter.
               No one I’ve met has spoken well of winter. They always say, with remorse, it is hard, it is brutal, it is always coming.
               Besides that atmosphere of foreboding, everything is wonderful here. People are very friendly and extremely polite, even in traffic.  
               There are not many good looking women here, except for the perfect tens. In Durango, there were a lot of nearly perfect examples of feminine beauty, nearly perfect. Here, most of the women are tall and heavy but every now and then I’ll see one that is absolutely perfect: platinum blond hair, five foot six inches tall, skin smooth as silk and just a hint of Asiatic DNA in their eyes.
               There are a surprising amount of Africans here. I’m not sure which country they hail from but they are not Americans. There are many Indians here, or maybe they’re Pakistani. I can’t tell. A lot of them are Muslims. I know this because the Indian restaurant I frequent had a Ramadan special and it was packed. I think there are quite a few Koreans and northern Chinese as well.
               In spite of what I’ve been told, Fargo is not a cheap place to be a contractor. I am renting a weekly hotel room and these lodgings are packed with construction workers. North Dakota apparently has a lot of tax money to spend on roads, sidewalks and bridges. There is a phenomenal amount of things being built here, all public works projects. This drives up the price of hotel rooms so I am forced to compete.
               Lately, I have no desire to dance tango. I think am in shock. This place is so different from Durango, so flat, so humid, so bland. Durango was everything, all the time. Fargo is incredibly nine to five, Monday thru Friday; on Sunday we gather to pray. Durango is a hot, green chili pepper doing yoga. Fargo is sweet corn sitting in a church pew.
               I think I am depressed.
               I have a theory, based on many interviews with milongueros from cold climes, that the winter is a good time to introduce tango into a community. People are looking for something fun to do indoors, something besides drinking and bowling. People also have a need to socialize in the winter, to socialize in a way that fulfills a need that church isn’t providing, can’t provide or won’t provide.
               Tango is the antifreeze of the Arctic.
               I won’t try to start a community yet. The local population needs to feast on the warm weather as much as possible before the frigid temps descend upon them like wolves. My contract is for only two months. I won’t stay longer than that unless they offer me real money. What I’m getting now doesn’t quite compensate for the remoteness of this location.
               That’s all for now. Stay tuned for more updates.
Sincerely,

Kayak Hombre and Capitan Frog

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Tango Minneapolis

               If anyone from the Lehigh University Tango Club is wondering where Dario went to, wonder no more! He is in Minneapolis via Germany via Brazil. I found him at the Four Seasons Dance Studio downtown. Dario and I started dancing tango in Bethlehem, PA, under the tutelage of Sharon Hillman. I must say that he has found himself a nice home with plenty of tango to satisfy his wandering soul.
               I’d heard about the Minneapolis tango scene from many milongueros and was anxious to check it out for myself. When my employer transferred me to Fargo, ND, a.k.a. The Town Without Tango:-( I just had to make the long drive to the Twin Cities.
               It really is a long drive: 240 miles! All interstate, so I guess that makes it not so bad. I won’t be going down there every weekend like I did in New Mexico. I traveled from Farmington to Albuquerque on the first six weekends after my arrival. 
               After driving 1300 miles from Durango to Fargo earlier in the week, I was beat by the time I reached the studio but it was definitely worth the trip! It is easily located off Interstate 394, on Hennepin Avenue. The dance studio is not actually on Hennepin Avenue. It is down a quaint alley next to Café Lurcat which is on the corner. There are valets there who can direct you to the alley if need be.
               The first night, and my inspiration to make the drive, was the live tango band. It consisted of a guitarist, cellist, violinist, pianist and a singer. They played short sets with DJ music in between presentations. Surprisingly, there were not many people in attendance for such a treat of live music for only $15. I'd guess there were no more than thirty dancers there when I left around midnight. My friend said more people showed up later and that he didn’t leave until 4 a.m.
               It was an unexpected surprise to run into Dario and get the rundown on this city’s tango community. Wine was included in the price of admission. We talked for nearly an hour, drinking wine and watching the dancers move around the dance floor.
               After my second ‘glass’ of wine, actually a 5 ounce Dixie cup, and my third tanda, I was ready to call it a night. The second night drew a much bigger crowd even though the band was replaced by a DJ who played fine renditions of classic tango hits.
               There were at least 60 people there by 11 p.m. on Saturday.
               The line of dance here is loosely followed and I don’t think this bothered anyone. It was not a stuffy crowd and most dance invites were verbal. The dance floor was extremely congested between 10 p.m. and midnight and most couples just moved onto the dance floor when there was an opening.
               Closer to midnight, I noticed that the skill level vastly improved although no new dancers had arrived. They also paid more attention to the codigos, the codes of tango. I attribute that to good wine, good music and great people! Dancers entering the floor waited for an opening, making eye contact with an approaching leader to get a nod before moving into the line of dance.
               I sometimes have difficulty dancing close embrace. This was not the case in Minneapolis. Most of the people I saw dancing were in open embrace, yet they danced close embrace with me. I guess I’m so fat that I must feel like a hug-able perri bear:-D
               Ladies, I’ll have you know that Friday’s event was 'minus 2' most of the night, meaning there were two more guys than gals. Saturday night was gender balanced although it is difficult to tell with such a large crowd. Suffice it to say that all the ladies who wanted to dance were dancing.
               Also, I didn’t see any women ‘routing’ men to the dance floor. This is done by superficially engaging a tanguero in conversation until he gives up and offers an invite. A lady could also move to a spot directly in his line of sight so that a guy feels compelled to dance with her.
               I think it would be helpful to tangueras if I mentioned where to sit. This is not so important for leaders yet it is a vital fact for women at a milonga to know.  Upon entering, there is a small desk to register or pay. Directly behind that is the ‘dead zone’. If you are here then you effectively don’t exist except in the eyes of your stalker. Next to that is an open square of couches. Here, you are not dead but it can be assumed that you may be dead tired.
               Next to the couches there is a narrow platform big enough for two cocktail tables and a row of chairs. The place to sit is on the wide step leading up to this tiny balcony. Early in the evening, I saw as many as five chicas perched here. After 11 p.m., the step was vacant as long as the music was playing. By this time the leaders were relaxed and hungry for followers. If a leader didn’t have a partner before the cortina stopped, then he might not find one to dance with for the next tanda.
               This community is incredibly diverse with sizable numbers of Asians, Turks? and African/Americans. My friend Dario is from Italy and I danced with a woman from Argentina who I guessed was Russian. It’s almost like New York City but I don’t think it is fair to compare Minneapolis to any place else. It is unique.
               I enjoyed myself immensely at the weekend milongas in Minneapolis. It reminded me of a gathering in Collegeville, PA, that I attended almost every Sunday: good food, good friends and great dancing. If you get a chance, you should drop by, I know you won’t be disappointed.

For regularly scheduled tango events in the Twin Cities, check out their website: http://www.mntango.org/tsomcal/






For more writings by the Kayak Hombre, check out his book, River Tango, available on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/River-Tango-perri-iezzoni/dp/1453865527/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1371659630&sr=1-1&keywords=river+tango


Sunday, August 4, 2013

Sex Sex Sex and Lady X

               A couple years ago, I found myself having dinner with a tanguera whom I desperately wanted to have sex with. I credit tango for getting me as far as the dinner table. I blame fate for allowing her girlfriend to accompany us. Sex between us was never meant to be. That’s how it was when I first started dancing tango: all I could think about was sex, sex, sex!
               Sex is not so much on my mind anymore but I often think about that encounter and speculate that there might be some clues in there as to how men and women think about sex.
               I had wanted this woman for a long time. It was merely a conquest thing. That’s how guys are.
               There are some women we look at and say, “I have to have sex with her.”
               That’s how women become trophy wives. When a man becomes obsessed with copulating with a woman, he might do anything to achieve his goal, even marry her. I’m certain the trophy-target might suspect what her true value in this relationship may be and play the game to her advantage, whatever that may be.
               The goals of men and women often differ. 
               When a man pursues a woman for sex, marriage is not necessarily an outcome, the destruction of a civilization could just as easily be the result, so powerful are the sexual dynamics between men and women. I offer the life of Eva Perón as a testament to the truth of what I say. She didn’t destroy Argentina but she seriously roiled that nation and it is roiled to this day.
               As we were eating, Lady X and her friend revealed that they thought I might be gay because I drove a Prius. Wow! What a blow to my machismo! She should have just asked me to put my penis on the table so she could cut it off. I don’t think it would have gone well with her Cobb salad.
               Lady X was a big part of my tango education. The first time I danced with her I felt that there was chemistry. That happens a lot in tango. The next time I invited her to dance she said no. The look on her face told me why: I needed to get better.
               In the year that followed, I worked on my dance. I danced with as many women as possible and took notes. When I thought that I was ready, I asked her to dance again and she accepted. Our encounter was ecstatic! When we parted she said I could ask her to dance again….anytime! Yet I could not have the next tanda because that was reserved for her beau who had just arrived:-( Boy, talk about emotional rollercoasters!
               Her beau was a tall carpenter. He was good-looking but he couldn’t dance a lick. I suspect she wasn’t interested in his dancing skills.
               That winter I started dancing in New York City and soon forgot about Lady X. A year later, I happened to see her again. Once again my desire for her was awakened and I made it a point to attend events I knew she frequented. Something told me, quite possibly my penis, that, if I got good enough at this dance, she might have sex with me. That sounds like a penis talking. Whatever voice I was hearing, I listened to it and focused on my ability to lead and move to the music with intensity.
               When I was young, I read a book about seagulls and the art of flying. It is called Jonathan Livingston Seagull. It is about a boy and girl seagull dating as they are grow up. They are also learning how to fly. The girl leaves the boy and he puts all his efforts into being a consummate flyer. One day he becomes so good at it that he disappears….and then comes back…and so does his girlfriend.
               The moral of the story is, if you love something, let it go; if it comes back to you then it is yours forever. That is not the lesson I gleaned from this short novel. I learned that, if I failed at love, I should get better at whatever I was doing when I found love. If I got good enough, she might decide to give me another shot at the prize.
               Maybe ‘love’ is not the right word here.
               Lately, there has been a saying traveling around Facebook that says a man is a coward if he awakens love in a woman and doesn’t stick around to make it grow. I agree with that statement but I have to say that the desire to conquer, once aroused, is a very powerful force. I can’t offer judgment on any man who concedes to his desire.
               And now we are back at dinner where my proverbial penis has been chopped off.  We are finishing our meal when I get an offer to swing by her place and check out her apartment. At this point I am very confused and have to ask myself if the loss of my machismo wasn’t the price of entry into her abode.
               An hour later we are in her apartment. It is a very awkward moment for the both of us. She wants me to make a pass at her, this much is obvious. There is a large cat wandering around and I am reminded of my pledge never to get involved with a woman who has felines because of my allergies. The oath is a matter of self-preservation.
               The call of the wild is strong. I am contemplating how I could make this relationship work. I live two hours away. We are alone in the room together. Her bedroom is just up the stairs. In twenty minutes we could be naked, lying together, listening to the sounds of the city and our two hearts beating like lovers.
               I let the moment pass and I think about it to this day. I’ll never know what her motives were, attacking my machismo and then offering herself up like a lamb. Maybe she just wanted me to make the pass but I couldn’t risk her accepting it. I couldn’t chance starting something I had no intention of finishing. After fifty years of life I had finally learned the difference between lust and love and this was definitely the former.
               Today, my focus is on ‘flying’: becoming a better dancer, a better partner, a better person. I have awakened love in a woman who has no cats and I am hoping that she stays in my life. I am not the same man I used to be; the man who looked at women and saw sexual conquests is gone. I am not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. All I know for certain is that I am different and that I must go forward and fly as best as I can.
              


Saturday, August 3, 2013

Qtango and My Last Tango in Durango

               After driving for three days at seventy-eight miles per hour, my wonderful world of Durango seems so far away. I am in shock! For the last year I have been on a literal and physical high, living at six thousand five hundred feet above sea level at the base of the Rocky Mountains, experiencing tango with an incredibly intoxicating partner and dancing tango to country music at the Wild Horse Saloon. Now I am nine hundred feet in elevation in a large cow town on a very flat, windy prairie.
               Durango is definitely the wild, wild West and the tango orchestra that goes by the name of Qtango, is one of the outlaw gangs riding the vast expanse of purple sage, bringing a booty of musicians and melodies to a venue near you. I consider myself lucky to have experienced such an intoxicating place on its ascendancy to tango stability.
               When I think back on my initial experiences in March of 2012 and those of last Saturday night, I am amazed at how much progress this community has made in putting down such a strong foundation for the practice of this dance. A year ago last March, we were lucky if six people showed up at practica. Last Saturday, we hosted a bona fide milonga with a live orchestra and quite a few leaders and followers from other tango communities, hailing from as far away as Los Angeles and El Paso.
               If there was any wish I could grant to the tangueras of our nascent society, it would be that they get the chance to move to the music in the passionate embrace of a stranger. To me, that is the greatest joy of tango. It’s kind of like wife-swapping without the fear of STDs or performance anxiety. A person could still be hurt emotionally in this kind of situation but the risk is very low for such a big return on your investment.
               What would a midsummer’s eve dance be without a magical transformation by one of our ugly ducklings? I’m not going to mention any names but I’d like to talk about him.
               The man I referenced began last year but dropped out because he was discouraged by his progress.  While the band was playing, I saw him invite our guest instructor, Svetlana Petkovic, and was astonished to see she accepted. I would not have been brave enough to approach her. I think they danced a whole tanda. His gambit paid off because he has been a better dancer ever since. It is as if she sprinkled magic dust on him and suddenly he could move to the music. 
                Another tango leader is born! Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings. Every time a new Durangotan leader dances with Svetlana, he’s ours forever:-)
               Qtango, I have to tell you that I took you for granted. I danced so many tandas with so many delightful tangueras that it was difficult to tell that I was not in some huge metropolis instead of a beautiful college town nestled snuggly in the southern Rocky Mountains. You showed us love that night, bringing a sextet when we only paid for a quartet; arriving on time, helping out during Svet’s workshop and warming up while we got the room ready. It felt like we were your guests and not the other way around.
               Thanks, also, for inviting Dan, a.k.a. Tango Colorado Springs, who delighted all the ladies with his music selections and fine dancing. He was the icing on the proverbial cake; eager to dance with as many ladies as possible and enjoying each one as if she were a champion tanguera.
               It all seems like a dream to me now; surveying the dance floor ahead of me and seeing Erskine Maytorena in the lights, singing with his tremendous baritone voice, the town’s denizens peering through the studio's large glass windows, dumbfounded and not believing that such a wonderful event was happening in their sleepy little town on such a fine summer night.