Chapter Seventeen: Paso adelante

Step forward. One. Two. Three. Four.

You can imagine my dance class as something like that. My instructor calling out the beats for the rest of us to follow along with the steps. This has now been my second class. Fun. Exciting. Memorable. However, this story looks at the "before" or the "behind scenes" of my attempt at a dance class in Spain.

Step forward.

My first class made me a nervous wreck before going. I had called ahead of time to check that the times were current and that there was room available. But after hanging up the phone, I realized my next task: presenting myself to the dance studio. What do I wear? Do I need certain shoes? Why did I not ask these questions before over the phone? Madre mia.

Step forward.

Eventually I pulled myself out the house for the class even with my doubts about it all. And the walk to the studio went a little like this in my head:
I'm going, I'm going, I'm going.
Why am I going?
Yes, yes, yes, I have to go.
But why again?
What an idiot I am.

Step forward.

These thoughts did not stop my legs from carrying me to the studio though. And upon arriving, I realized there were two entrances. One at the front. One at the back. Shoot. Which do I go into? Or do I turn back?

Step forward.

I walked around the building a few times contemplating it all. Do I go in? Do I turn around? Those who know me best know that when I am deep in thought, I tend to speak to myself. A trait that I am not real proud of. However, in the meantime of this all, I lost track of how many times I had walked around the building. And after awhile I was conscious of a man smoking a cigarette who was watching me curiously as I battled through my thoughts.

Step forward.

I knew I looked crazy. So there was only one choice to make. I walked in. But in the wrong entrance. Fortunately, the man at the counter directed me to go back to the other entrance. Unfortunately, the man smoking the cigarette was still outside. So pulling my scarf tighter around my face to cover my blushing cheeks, I suffered the humiliation of a few questioning eyes as I walked back to the other entrance.

Step forward.

So what if that man thought I was crazy. At least I came. I did not back down on my embarrassment. I know I could have. The opportunity was there to back away. To turn around. To step back.

Step forward.

I opened the door and since I arrived a few minutes late, I was greeted with several stares. However, amidst the music, I could hear the instructor's voice ringing out:
paso adelante, 1, 2, 3, 4...

That's when I knew I made the right choice. Come whatever would come after that, the salsa, the merengue, the cha-cha-cha, I stepped forward.