Salsa Sam’s Rantings

PART 3 - BLOOD AND MILKSHAKE

I had to refill. As I squeezed the trigger, sparks flew but nothing came about. I yanked the head out from the body, and with my left hand, turned it upside down. The fumes, faint, but effective nonetheless, was making me high. With my right hand, I reached over under my bed, by the cabinet, and picked up the can. As I flipped the nozzle, I got a whiff of pure-ignition fuel heaven. I squeezed some flammable fluid onto the reservoir, it hit me harder.. whee, and woo-hoo, a thousand jumping Easter rabbits! I flipped the nozzle back in, and stuffed the head back into the bronze casing. Wiped my hands with a Kleenex, I carefully disposed it deep into the trash bin. I put the cigarette to my lips and squeezed again. A long beautiful yellow fire, I love my Zippo.

As I dragged on the cigarette, I blew right at the halogen and as the trails of smoke from the cigarette floated upward and dispersed under the halogen lamp, it made an incredible mosaic. Beautiful. Almost artistic. I turned up the heat, it was getting cold out, with the winds suddenly blowing. I could hear the wailing outside the Annex walls, the fluttering of the leaves being pulled away from the branches, and my epoxy sealants weren’t gonna last very long. I put my hand onto the window edge and sure enough, there were some cold winds seeping in. I put on my heavy leather jacket, dad had got for me from Korea, and as I sat there in the middle of the room, lit only by the halogen. With my picture book.

That’s me forcing a smile for the camera. I think I was rudely awakened at about 2:30am with a long day ahead. Tousled up hair, dreary eyes barely open (besides, my eyes are that big anyway!).. next picture was Sally and Afsana holding up a cake with two big candles and a few small ones. And me, surprised, a little shy, but more so awkward because I was pissed when they woke me up. Next picture, looking like a teenager, grinning. Next picture, blowing out the candles. Next picture, a close-up of the cake Sally herself made for me.

Then it was a whole load of pictures with fellow dancers at the MIT Ballroom Dance Team (BDT). We had two defects, one from Boston University, and one from the Harvard Medical School.

Competition pictures. My first competition at the Harvard Invitational with Carly. My second competition at the University of Connecticut with Carly. My third with Nicole, who confided in me that she wants to quickly get her paper and move to Hollywood to be an actress. My fourth with Carly, and every other competition thereafter with different partners. Carly was a pre-Med student. She was working on her grades (never happy unless she had an "A", and an "A-" was failure it seems) and her responsibilities as a Big Sister at her Sorority house. I had met the boyfriend, who was always watching her like a bloddy hawk, and her parents who came to support her at every competition she and I drilled and competed in. It was strictly dancing, much to the disappointment of a few of my close friends. Besides, we’re worlds apart - she’s Jewish, but I’m not.  (I have nothing against Jews, in fact a lot of my close class buddies are Jews.) No chemistry outside dancing, and later I realized, different goals in the BDT, different views about life, about career aspirations. But in every picture, I was getting smaller, thinner, and leaner.

Since joining the BDT, I realized that my whole life had changed. I had never passed more than 1 Art class in my entire Secondary education, that’s why I dropped the class in Form 3. I had never been involved in plays, dance, stage work, or anything that involved more than a crowd of 30-40 people in the audience. My weight was on a steady incline since I can remember. And before Ballroom Dancing, I was a hefty 265 lbs. It was December 1999 and I was between 190-195 lbs, almost 28% smaller. I was more disciplined with meals and drank lots of water, better at scheduling time, achieving more in grades and research, and pretty good at competitions so far. The climax was when I was given the Rookie Of The Year by the BDT. That’s when I was more involved in organizing the monthly social dance nights. I had incredibly synergistic and close friendships within the dance circle, with my peers and seniors. And never felt so empowered in my life.

It was late and I was exhausted thinking about which fork to take at these cross-roads. I punted my Problem Sets and set the alarm for 6am. Got under the warm fuzzy comforter and drifted to sleep.

Cripes!! I literally stumbled out of bed at 7:20am. Got to Professor Gupta’s office at 5 after 8am. Everyone else was late, so had a little one-on-one chat. Had 2.5 hours to finish my Problem Set before my 11am class. My lectures and recitations were over at 4pm.  with my heavy pack over my shoulder, my files in my left hand, and a aluminum wrapping in my right. I walked so damn fast,  I almost got falafel sauce all over my jeans. Got into my Dodge, cringed as I waited the mandatory few minutes before the temperature was good in this god-awful winter day. And I drove like a mad dog in heat. Finally got to the airport at 4:50pm.

At 5:15pm, I saw my brothers, who looked tired as hell, each with a carry-on. Looked like they weren’t staying more than a few days. Better I suppose.

We had an early dinner at Legal Seafood’s. It was 6:30pm and we beat the dinner-time rush by 30 mins. As our main meals were served, the lines outside were a few meters long just to get a table. I introduced Boston Clam Chowder to them (the best Chowder’s from New England), but they didn’t seem impressed. Abang tried to be light and joked around a little. But my little brother came straight to the point. Across the table, he slid a MAS and United Airlines ticket to me and said, "We’re not leaving until you decide to come home with us."

The food didn’t taste that good, but I finished it anyway.

My life was really good before they came. I was just starting to enjoy a little good ‘ol American milkshake, hey like the ones you can only get at McDonalds, and there they were, my own flesh and blood, giving me an ultimatum. Without any room to move.

"We’re not leaving until you decide to come home with us," rang in my head. In the background, a bomb explodes in Hiroshima and I hear tormented screams of pain.

Abang tried the emotional argument, talking about how my parents really missed me and things just aren’t the same without the whole family together. Another explosion at Nagasaki and it verberates to the core of my brain. Insane in the membrane!

Damn it, it was like good cop, bad cop. And I paid for dinner.

PART 2 - DECISIONS

I forget what day of the week that was. Classes were tough. I was taking Graduate level classes at Sloan with Middle Executives from Crysler, IBM, Sun Microsystems, Nortel, and super-technies from the Media Lab. I had a Problem Set due in the Fourier Series, and work piled up my ass. But I couldn’t really keep my mind on it the whole day.

It was dinner time with Sally. We were telling each other about our day, and then she stopped for a while, looked at me with concern, and suddenly made me all edgy with her motherly-ness. Man, not now. I told her that I think it’s classwork that’s really bothering me. She paused for a moment and then we talked about her classes and my research work. It was about 7:30pm when I said, "Hey we’re going to be late for Samba," and she said, "but it’s only at 8:30"… "yeah, I know, I’m usually there warming up an hour before, remember?"… so we finished dinner and made our way to the dance halls.

Dancing took me to another world. And it was no worries and a great new additions to the routine we learned last week. It was 11pm, when I packed up my stuff. Everyone had gone off an hour ago, so I turned off the lights, and before closing the door, I stood there in the stillness of the dance halls. I’m really gonna miss this a whole damn much. I went into the doors of the Number Six Club, my frat house and as I walked into the dining hall there was Jason Pinto, Trinidadian with the gift of the gab, telling another hilarious joke. Melanie had a Cartier in her hand and a glass of wine in her other. And there were other Freshmen and Sophomores with their glasses on, hair tied up, all hanging out, laughing, flirting. How these girls look so different during RUSH week when they were trying to get into the House. It was a bloddy week night and these guys live life to the max. I couldn’t hang around chilling out ‘cos there were just so many things going through my head. I walked straight past them into the Annex stairway and headed straight into my room.

I kept all the lights off, went to my desk, switched the halogen desk lamp on and lit a cigarette. I had about 2-3 hours before my body gave way, and a whole lot of work to do before my 8am with Professor Gupta at the Sloan the next morning. But I spent the next few hours just reminiscing my time with the Ballroom Dance Team this past year and a half, pictures of friends and Sally.

She had asked me about Islam a year ago, and lately she’s been very receptive to talk about converting. She was a christian, but willing. At some point, I actually contemplated co-existing without conversion. After all, religion was more about healthy living and doing good, wasn’t it?

TO BE CONTINUED

PART 1 - THE PHONE CALL

There was a time when I couldn’t stand the incessant requests from my parents to come back during summer and winter holidays. There was just so much to do in between semester breaks. And all my plans had to be on hold just ‘cos dad bought a plane ticket back for me. In retrospect, I was indeed a spoilt and ungrateful young adult, always thinking about myself. At that point in time, there were just things I needed to do on my own.

In 1999, my life was all set. I had a American-Chinese girlfriend full of character, cultured, family-centric, with corporate ambitions, and a great companion. Who also shared my love of dance, albiet not as intense of ambitious as mine, but great when it came to the occasional social dancing she came along.

I was working on my MBA at Sloan, unbeknownst to a lot of my friends in the Electrical Engineering and Computer Science department. I had a Research Project with the Artificial Intelligence group at Sloan, which paid enough for me to up-keep my rent, occasional clubbing, my dance expenses, and my Dodge Neon. It was a very cool, 4-door, black far-from-sports-but-looks-cool car. I had wheels, I had enough dough to keep my life good, and had everything taken care of with tuition.

My dance life was still full, with 6-8 classes a week, in 1 or 2 levels above my peers who started dancing the same time as I was. All I was aspiring to do was earn some extra cash for Private Lessons, which cost about 3-5 times as much as group classes. I noticed that I needed that extra bit of cash to really get ahead of the other dancers in Silver and Gold. I was targeting to hit Open in 2.5-3 years.

And then there came a phone call. It was my two brothers, who were in LA! I was thrilled, before they told me that they will be visiting me on an agenda. They had with them a one-way ticket from LAX to KUL are were not going to leave until all my stuff were packed and I promised to get on a plane back home.

I put down the phone and just sat there thinking…. should I keep to my father’s intentions of uniting our family again…

TO BE CONTINUED

Life’s been hectic. Dad got admitted into hospital on the 25th of July. So, almost every night from midnight to 8 or 9am, have been on stand-by, just seeing to his needs. A very humbling state of being, I now appreciate all that is good that’s happening to me. I try and give a call to old friends, I spend more time taking care of my family, I take more preparation before teaching each class, I spend more time thinking about my students. Hmmm, with all this, I still spend less time on my own dancing - something to work on…

So, it’s usually back at 9-10am, sleep for about 4 hours, get to studio at 3pm, prepare for classes, and then it’s midnight hour again. So tired. Last weekend, I totally crashed and thank god Aisha took care of my 2 classes on the weekend. I was so bloody exhausted, I slept through the alarm and found my Nokia under the bed, like years later…

This weekend’s got a lot of fun-filled stuff and thank god, dad got discharged yesterday noon. He’s a lot better now, can walk but with assistance, his resistance level’s up to normal, and he’s O2 absorption is back to 95-96% without aparatus. Oh crap I have to been in the Studio in an hour..

ADDITIONS…

Dad got admitted again into DSH on 19/8. Just discharged a few days ago. The month is almost over. Gotta spend more time with him…

So it was the usual awesome Salsa party at Little Havana. I was a bit concerned, ‘cos at one point, I was looking on the dance floor, and less than 50% of the couples were on time. I turned to a few people around me, and when I turned back, some were coming onto time, some kept drifting back off and on time. Sheesh, and at that point in time, there were at least 40% Intermediates on the floor…. time to formulate a new game plan.

I had some really good dances. Diyana came, and the Merengue was fun, and boy this girl can groove. Wendy’s Bachata getting a lot more smooth and with feeling. Ai Ling’s Bachata was a little smoother. I’ve noticed that there’s a lot to be desired with a lot of ladies who don’t really dance a dance, but just do a bunch of steps, execute a bunch of moves, and just try to follow. After a while, it looks boring, and lacks a certain…. *sabor*…. flavour, character, personality, a certain je ne sais par… well… *sabor*

Anwar came and I think he tried to dance some. It was good to see some old Beginners who we saw for awhile and just dropped out after B1 or part of B2.

Anyway, besides the usual suspects, it was really good to see Jimmy and Ike and a whole load of beginner guys. Jason looks like he’s back. It’s great to see girls like Marion start to really groove and dance.

By 10:30-11:00pm, the floor was packed and it was almost (not quite, but almost) hard to get a place to dance, so I danced on the mezzanine near the DJ/back area, furthest from the bar. By about 12:15-12:30pm, a lot of people start leaving. Maybe it was ‘cos there were just some crazy fast music played. Hmmmm, got to have the usual talk/feedback session with DJ Joe. But the hardcore’s stayed until 1:15am plus, plus!

All in all, a super-fun night of dancing! Sigh, it’s Sunday tomorrow and I think I have to get up early to clean my room…. *snooore*

My Nokia 6600 got caught in the rain. But hell it was very very little water I got on it, and on the way home, I was trying to get a message to my brother before he slept and the keypads stopped working. So, as I drove home in the bloody rain, I instinctively thought to restart my phone. And when the password screen came up, I fell my heart sank. I was locked out of my own phone. Blast it, stupid rain…

Maybe it’s the Nokia phone I got. Oh, no, not again! I hope I won’t lose all my contact numbers again. This happens to me once every year. Sheesh!

End whatever comes to your mind with "…. in bed"

I’ve had a long day, gotta crash …in bed. So innocent.

I hate that girl …in bed. Whoa, really?

I wonder how good dancers are during the day when they work …in bed. Heh, heh.

Some people have a strange smell …in bed. Ha ha ha!

She’s smells really good, I wonder what perfume she uses …in bed. Oh-ho!

Whoa, look at that speed demon go, I wonder if [insert girls name]’s always so aggressive …in bed. Yum!

I’ve got so much work to do …in bed. Hah!

I love breakfast in bed …in bed. Didn’t work that one.

I love chicken! …in bed. Hmmm, not a bad idea, but I sound like a glutton… but, but, but, but it’s chicken!!

This is a great song …in bed. Well!

[On the dance floor:] Hey Mr DJ, Pump it up …in bed. Oh-er!

Oops, I did it again …in bed. Tsk, tsk, Britney!

I love mayonnaise …in bed. Oh dear.

Beautiful Mariaaaaaa …in bed. Ah!

She bangs, she bangs! …in bed. William Hung was quite ahead of his time.

Caught up in the rapture …in bed. A very horny Anita Baker.

Killing me softly …in bed. The Fugees’ anti-70’s revolution.

I can control my chi …in bed. Another reason to do Tai-Chi.

Going to the gym increases your stamina …in bed. A very good reason to go to the gym!!

Everything for RM5 …in bed. That RM5 shop in 1 Utama, starting a sexual revolution.

[Clearance Sale:] Everything must go! …in bed. You wonder why they’re clearing their store, those perverts!

[Aggressive Salesman:] Special deal, for you, I take off more …in bed. Desperate salesman, gotta meet monthly target, eh?

Don’t go tryin’, to try ta please me …in bed. Billy Joel after coming back from Buddist Temple.

I don’t get no… satisfaction …in bed. Samantha Fox after years of trying.

Post your comments!

So, it was 11:50pm when I reached Little Havana. I needed to rest, after a short, but intense night at Yukiko’s party. As I sat down for my ginger ale, a smoke in my hand, I looked over to the Dart Board.

This kid’s gotta be around 7-8 years old. Must be Phillipe’s. He’s there, looking for something. Finally, he picked up this Yellow dart from under a table, stood by the line, and flung the poor needle at the Board. It richocheted off with a thud against the cardboard wall. He ran for it, scrambled on the ground, picked it up, ran back to the line, and flung it again. He ran for it, picked it up again, and fling it again, and again. This went on for a good 3 minutes. Suddenly he stopped. I rummaged through my bag, I took a sip of my ginger ale, and lit another cigarette.

So, I turn back at this kid and this tiny ‘lil things huffs and puffs, heaving along this tall brown chair, at least 2 and a half times his height. And plops it down behind the line. He climbs all the way to the top, and whacks away again at the dart board. Then, he climbs all the way down, picks up the dart, and climbs right back up. And this went on, and on, and on…

Really got me thinking, that if it was an adult, most of us would’ve probably just give up after a few times. But this kid doesn’t know how to quit. He just keeps at it, and keep at it. A truly excellent quality, me thinks, which a lot of kids have. And a lot of us so-called "grown-ups"… well, kinda forget.

You know, that’s how adults should be with Salsa, and heck, dance and a lot of things in general! If it’s hard, I gonna keep at it. Until I get it.

And you know what, in the end, this kid scored a bulls-eye. And the next thing you know, he’s jumping up, trying to reach for the dart. Probably to keep throwing the damn thing ’till it breaks….

Sigh! To be a Child again…

It’s been a few years since I’ve been to a good Ballroom Dance social. The last really good dance I’ve had was in Boston with the MIT Ballroom Dance Club, when I was still an active 21-dancer. That was in 1999. I was actually quite nervous going to Dance eXpress in Plaza Damas. The moment I heard from James "The Handphone" Quah that Yukiko’s having a studio party, I was psyched! But now, as I walked up the stairs of the Hartamas Shopping Centre, I was a bit edgy.

Getting down from the car, I looked myself in the mirror and to my horror, after less than 1 day of having shaved, I was already stubby! I dropped by Watson’s as Sharie and Aisha waited, wondering what the heck’s wrong with this boy. So there we were, the three of us, all dressed in Purple. I had actually had to make a quick dash after Saturday classes, to go buy this (tasteful) Purple shirt. Finally made it to Dance eXpress at 9pm. The party had already started.

We kinda rang the bell, and beyond the glass doors, I could see dancers on the large laminated flooring moving to a Cha Cha Cha. A flood of memories kinda came to a halt, and I gluped down a large one.

Boon Gan greeted us first. "Hi, Sam, Aisha, Sharie… how are you?"

"Hey, what happened to your purple? You’re all dressed in black and (was it) slightly blue?!?!"

"The closest thing I had, he smiled and waved us in."

Ashley and Annabelle greeted us with super big warm friendly smiles, but it didn’t make it easier. I smiled and saw a whole bunch of people I didn’t know. I was so nervous, I didn’t realize that Ashley stuffed a box in my hands. I didn’t even realize until about 1 or 2 hours later what it was.

We quickly scanned the room, and to the left, the bar of drinks and chairs were packed with people, no place to sit. So we made our way aaaallll the way to the end of the dance floor, into a quiet little corner. We walked and walked and walked what I think, more realistically speaking, was for about a minute and a half, and the three of us plopped down. Safe little corner with shadows.

Then, I heard a familiar sound of Rumba. I looked and Aisha and Sharie, and they stuck to their seats, just looking around. I sat for a while. The next song was another Rumba. And then a Cha Cha Cha. I was not going to come dressed all this way to sit down. So, I got up, walked half way across the room, smiled and held out my left hand, asking Soame to dance.

"Would you like to dance?"

Her eyes lit up, and she took my hand.

"Soame, don’t mind my Cha Cha, it’s quite the street-style and I don’t remember all my syllabus…"

"It’s ok, Sam, I’ll do my own thing, too," she smiled so sweetly, I just started on the Basic Step. 2-3-4-&-1…2-3-4-&-1…It was great. I kinda did a CBLT into a New Yorker, quite a lot earlier, and I just laughed it off. Did some waves, grooves, and kinda whacked away at some footwork during the Fan, and lead Hockey Stick after Hockey Stick. Then, I remember that I could do an Alemana. Then a New Yorker, and things started coming back to me…

Then, it was all over, and I thanked her, and she had a good time too, judging by her smile as she when back to her seat. I actually just pity her a lot, ‘cos I’m so Salsa-fied, I kinda had a lot of different hand changes, and did loads of Salsa styling. But, she’s a great follow, and it’s amazing how she’s one of the few in KL who can just take my different moves.

Next was the Foxtrot, so I asked Sharie, and we were laughing all the way to the dance floor… actually, it was just a few steps away from our safe corner. Slow, Slow, Quick-Quick, Slow… I think they call this Rhythm here. Back in Boston, we used to call is "Basic Smooth," or American-style Bronze Foxtrot. After a while I think Sharie got a bit edgy, ‘cos we kinda moved down line of dance (counter-clockwise) all the way to the other end of the floor, where the bar and *huuuuge* crowd (who obviously all knew each other) sat and danced. I almost stepped on her a couple of times, but we managed to make one big circle and she literally pulled me back to our seats after the song was over. There was another Foxtrot.

And then there was another Cha Cha Cha, and Irene was talking with us. I asked her to dance, but I think my leads were either not strong enough, or she just refused to follow my extra spins in between basic syllabus. At that point in time, I had some major issues with my own leads. Was it me?

I sat down and pondered for quite a while. And then, Ashley came up to me and asked me to dance. It was the Waltz. I think it was a good 2 seconds (swear to god, it felt like longer then…) and I smiled and stood up, "I don’t remember a single thing, but sure, I’d love to dance!"

So, I raised my left hand, invited her in, and she came in straight to 4th Position Contact. Sheesh! Thank god for her incredible frame. She kinds helped me keep my posture, and I had to ask, "Do I start… do you start with your left or right foot?"

"You can do a preparation with your Left," she said, all the way over from the right, her side of the frame. And my mind was racing. Whoa! 3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3… I kept doing really basic stuff. Natural Turn, Basic, Reverse Turn, Basic, Natural Turn, and every time I panicked, I lead a Natural Spin Turn. At some point, I figured, hey why not a Whisk. And Chasse. Oh, another NST. Wow, it was fantastic. And before I knew it, it was all over. I think her and smiled and apologised. She said, after a short pause, "Not too bad, you still remember your stuff, eh?!"

I look bewildered, "Actually, thanks to you, you made it very easy, and some of what I used to do came back!"

About 10 mins later, I was shaking my head, thinking, "Oh Lord! What the hell else is there I can do…" And then, Annabelle was upon me, the sweet thing, so encouraging.

"Hey, Ashley came over and was raving about you…"

"What…?! Really?" I said incredulously.

"Yeah," she said. "Would you like to dance?"

"I actually don’t remember much, but some stuff’s coming back to me… I’d love to dance!"

I actually asked her, again, which foot to start with and she said, any foot. "Ok," so I held out my left hand, took a  preparation, and this time, went down starting Diagonal Centre with a Reverse, Natural, to Spin Turn… it was amazing. In between this and the next Waltz, I asked her, "hey, what else can I do?"

"What about a Double Reverse?"

"Oh you mean like this?" and tried it, making sure first there was no other couple nearby I would smash into. We stopped and she said, what a sweetheart, "yeah, that was pretty good!"

I actually said, "Really? Hmmm, what else" … and so there we were, Annabelle and I dancing another Waltz, then a Quickstep, and then the Viennese Waltz. Oh my lord!

Before I knew it, more than two hours had passed and I was thinking to myself, I’m going to practice and come back next month, and dance some more! Finally found my box of goodies, it turned out to be the most delicious small piece of chicken I’ve tasted in months! Hmmm, actually, last week I had almost 7 and a half pieces of Chicken and this Sunway Pyramid chicken-buffet place.. but it tasted so good!

That’s it, I’m going to revise my Standard and Argentinian Tango. I can’t wait for next month!

Why do the people with the largest egos take so much space?

You know what I’m talking about. Those drivers who don’t know how to keep to their own lanes. Those SUV and even Kelisa drivers who feel like the widened lanes of the Federal Highway is still to small. No signal, change lanes, or just bloody drive in bloody two lanes?!

Just like those people who go to a dance club, choose the smallest space to dance in - that area where there’s just more people than usual, push their way through, and dance so big, you can see their elbows flailing closer to your head even when you’re standing two arms-length away from them.

IN SALSA, it’s worse, ‘cos it’s not free-styling. Once a disciplined dancer executes a complex move or combination, it’s hard to pull-back in mid-motion. You’ve got Mr. Big Feet, Miss Big Heels, or Mrs and Mrs Big-Everything just take up the floor like there’s no one else on it. And it’s not that the floor is full, the same people I’ve seen take the floor with no else but them and one or two couples, and they still manage to maneuver into the couples far far away. It’s just over-flowing egos, inconsiderate lane-hoggers, I’m-the-only-person-in-the-world type personalities who just aim those flailing arms and elbows into your face, and stomp your feet or slam your face.

I think I’m going to make bright yellow cards and flash them to these dancers, the next time I see them in the club. Seriously.