Dance Class

So, last night was my first ballroom dancing class at BCAE. It was surprisingly fun. The instructor is a tiny old man, and the assistant is a young woman who didn't speak once or even crack a smile. There are about 20 students, half men and half women, ranging in age from about 25 to 50. And I wasn't the tallest, even with heels on! Everyone was completely clueless, which was a relief, because even though the class was listed for beginners, I was afraid that it would be filled with ballroom dance sharks. We learned the waltz, and switched partners constantly, so you get to meet everyone in the class. Most everyone was friendly and seemed a bit bewildered to find themselves dancing with a roomfull of strangers. The girls were what you would expect, a mixture of urban 20-somethings and some older divorcees. The guys were more varied: a 50 year old biker with a shaved head and tattooed arms, a nerdy British guy named Pierce, a tall young black guy, a smoker with a Southie accent, and a couple of short, chubby guys. I already have an enemy. One of the women is a classic bitch. She looks about 50, with expensive clothes and the kind of sinewy, ropy arms that result from years of calorie restriction. She and one of the men were chosen to demonstrate one of the steps for the class, and they screwed up a couple of times, which lead to her throwing up her arms and loudly sighing in exasperation while glaring at her partner. What a bitch. And the thing is, SHE was the one screwing up by taking an extra step- the instructor called her out on it, too. Even if it was her partner's fault, there's no need to act like a fucking rude prima donna.