Voodoo graceful

In Haiti when they have voodoo ceremonies, people dance and dance for hours and say they are ridden by ancestor spirits called loa. The benevolent loas are called cool, and the malevolent ones are hot. Believers dance and hope that they are chosen, and when they are chosen they find that they can do things that they cannot do. Those ridden can eat glass, or dance in fire, and they move so savagely and beautifully that even people who think it's all superstition think it may be possible that some primeval spirit from the creation of Earth is doing the driving. This concept is one of the many I have pondered to explain what happened last Saturday night in Vienna at a place called Club Cubana. But before we jump right in, there is a little prologue leading up to what will go down as one of the most fun nights of this entire trip.

My crew was composed of the following: Myles, an Englishman and adventurer who is riding his bike from London to Istanbul for many familiar reasons. He is my age, we were immediately friends who recognized eachother as fellow travelers. Alex and Jen, two best friends from Australia who are super organized, have been scrapbooking as they go, and never seem to disagree on anything of substance. Kurt, the aforemenioned hilarious Canadian kid. Bec, another Aussie who I liked immediately as she was reading a Tennessee Williams biography, Hammer, Dan from Toronoto who makes his living teaching Ballroom dancing, and James a local who tends bar at the Hostel.

Last Monday (10/26) is a national Holiday in Austria which celebrates the withdrawl of the Soviets. On the Saturday before the Austrian military had set up for 4PM a large scale dance with local women, apparently an attempt to break the world record for most people salsa dancing ever in one place. I had been told it was happening and 6 and I had recruited nearly everyone at the Hostel to go. So when we arrived the thing was over, and I still don't know if they broke the record.

James, who has lived in Vienna for two years, took us to an underground wine bar. It was not a tourist establishment, which I appreciated. When I went to the counter to order food, I just pointed as there was no English spoken here. I got pork stuffed cabbage rolls, which were clearly the best entree, though I admit I only pointed at it because there was bacon on them. As we drained bottles of wine we started to get increasingly loud, and as we were surrounded by mostly senior citizens who were slightly alarmed we were hustled into the room where there was live music. The live music consisted of a chubby Austrian man doing a lounge act in German.

As we were leaving, James was leading us out as the place was something of a maze, the music stopped as a table of ladies were talking about what a cute boy he was. The woman who had noticed him was a lean blonde with thin rimmed glasses and excellent posture. I rarely notice posture on the good side, and so my immediate impression was that she was very rigid, she was also blshing furiously as clearly James was not meant to hear any of this. Because he had been hanging out with me, and I had been casually adding people to groups my entire stay, he invited her. At first she demured, but her smiling friends urged her on and she grabbed her coat. I looked at Myles who raised his eyebrows, we were both surprised.

Her name was Melanie, she was from the south of Austria bet had lived in Vienna for 8 years. Mostly I spoke to her, because James seemed to have buyer's remorse after inviting her. She was clearly a very intense woman who did not allow herself to have much fun, I also found her to be a little thin skinned, but she was clearly excited to be doing something so out of character, and she bought me drinks in honor of my birthday nearly three weeks ago; so my opinion was favorable. The next few hours were bar hopping and drinking, which I will glaze over to get to the good part.

Around 3am everyone from the Hostel was going home. Myles needed to get up early for his ride to Bratislava, the girls were tired, James was hammered, and Dan had already left before the subway stopped running. That's when Melanie and I went to the dance club and I caught a loa.

I am a horrible dancer. Awful. Clearly I was built for power, no grace, and rough movement. I dance like an uncooked turkey thrown down a rocky hill, make no mistake, I am very aware of my weaknesses. However. I was well buzzed, and I was not ready to pack it in, so we climbed the steps down. The walls were a rich magenta and South American music thumped the walls below, there were three large doormen, but no trouble, and at the bottom of the winding stair was the dance floor which was in front of a giant television screen which played the music video of each song that blasted through the unseen speakers hidden in the darkness above us. On the bar a beautiful latino woman danced in a way that can only be described as softly in her bare feet and white form fitting dress. The place was not crowded, nor was it not not crowded. The sides of the walls had mirrors like a gym, where sweating people took their cigarette and mojito breaks.

I have never salsa danced. So what happened next can either be described as a drunken savant moment, a loa, or something else mysterious. Because I knew EXACTLY what to do. My steps were perfect, I grabbed Melanie's hip with my right hand and my left hand met hers. We stepped. She sensed my confidence and allowed me to lead her as I wished, the first time I spun her she laughed in surprise. I don't even look like I could be a good dancer, too brutish.

I only needed to see it done around me once, and I did it. We joined hands and spun eachother, I back away and made her follow me, and this uptight Austrian lady laughed and laughed having probably the best time in her entire life. Now that I had a few songs under my belt, I suddenly started doing things I wasn't seeing on the floor. I spun Melanie towards me, grabbed her hips and threw her into the air. She squealed, in the second she was up, I turned out and stepped forward so that I was standing beside where she would land facing the same way, I caught her with one arm into a dip.

I did that.

People noticed, two older men were cheering me, I suddenly kind of had an audience. Now, before, I mentioned that for what I lack in physical grace I am paid out in full and more in physical power. I moved her all over the floor, I picked her up when I wanted, spun her when I wanted, everything led into everything else as a natural progression. I even did the obnoxious affected head turns you see in Julia Styles movies. I was channeling Patrick Swayze with Donkey Kong strength and the arrogance of everything beautiful. I have no idea how it happened, but the club belonged to me. I have commanded many rooms, my stories and loud voice and words make people listen, but I had never done this in a place where words meant nothing. I was most satisfied.

I didn't stop for two hours when they finally closed the place. None of the pictures turned out except the one of me sweating my ass off with Melanie whispering filthy things to me. I danced with everyone, a woman of 60, giggling girls, and my de facto date would wait looking sour. At the end, at 5AM, my feet hurt and I was soaked. When whatever had possessed me left, I was exhausted. I bid Melanie goodnight and did not share the cab with her, or come see her "Edvard Munch prints at her place", I walked home for an hour hobbling at the end as my legs and feet had revolted. I was freezing from the dry sweat. When the Loa left I was exhausted, and ecstatic. I was puzzled. I was also immensely pleased, because someday when the great scorer adds it all up he can note that at least once in his life this blocky tank of a man was the most graceful person in his district for a whole sweaty two hours and twenty minutes.

And I will happily take that. It's mine. I am keeping it.