Salsa night REDUX
So, another Wednesday night, another attempt to go salsa dancing. Mona had found out that La Piste, while it does exist, is on the rooftop of the building we kept driving by, and doesn't have any exterior signs - which is why we had no luck the last time around. Prepared with this knowledge, we again got all fancied up and headed back to the club. Since Mohamed had been calling Mona for a week straight, she told him that he could meet us at the club himself - one of his many boasts last week was that he was a stellar salsa dancer.
We made it to La Piste okay, paid our cover, and went into the club. La Piste itself is also a dance studio, and the Wednesday salsa night happens to immediately follow a Wednesday night salsa class ... which means the people there were people who actually knew how to salsa, and who expected to dance with others who also knew how to salsa. This was the first problem ...
The club itself was awesome, though, with a great view of Cairo (or parts of it ... it is a really big city), including an extensive look at one of the "clubs" that dots the city, which happens to be across the street from La Piste. These clubs are essentially country clubs, just not out in the country - a place for Cairo's upper crust to see and be seen. We located the pool, the tennis courts, the basketball courts, and even the shooting range from the rooftop, and determined even from 15 stories above that the place was clearly much too expensive for either of us to join.
Too intimidated to stay by the dance floor, in case someone actually asked either of us to dance (which would have been a tragedy, since the expected skill level was not a requirement either of us would meet), we hung out on the balcony. Finally, Mohamed showed up, after Mona had mentioned to me that she wasn't entirely certain if she'd even recognize him anymore. It turns out he had the same problem; he and his friend stood on the balcony about ten feet away, looking over at us every now and again with an, "Is that them?" expression ... after 15 minutes, he gave in and called Mona's cell.
The four of us sat down, and Mona and I quickly decided Mohamed is a big freaking asshole. His conversations seem to always be combative, and when the conversation turned to America, this quickly proved to be a problem. The stupid thing was, there are SO MANY legitimate things to argue about regarding America, but he didn't pick any of them. Instead, he started spouting off about how Houston (where he claims to have lived for seven years, although Mona doesn't believe him) is a much better city than Boston, even though he's never been to Boston. He said Texas has a great economy, and I said, "You know, Massachusetts isn't really doing that bad either," and suddenly, he was PISSED. (And I swear I said those words, and in a relatively un-bitchy way.)
"So you think that because I lived in the States for only seven years, I don't know anything about America?"
"Not at all. I just think it's strange that you automatically assume you know more than me, when I lived there my whole life."
"Well, I do."
"Whatever makes you happy."
"It doesn't make me happy, it's the truth."
Now I was getting a bit irritated, because this could have been a funny, light-hearted conversation, but HE WASN'T JOKING. There wasn't even a hint of a smile, twinkling eyes, NOTHING to indicate he was anything besides 100% serious. And so ...
"Fine. You're clearly infinitely superior to me in every way."
And he responds - again, with absolutely no indication of humor - "Yes, I am."
About 45 seconds later, he and his friend left. I'm not quite sure how the mood turned so quickly, but I suspect it was somehow my fault. However, Mona doesn't blame me - she thinks he's just one of the many Egyptians who automatically hate Americans because we represent what they can't have. Additionally, he's a guy. Enough said.
So, at a salsa club but unable to dance, and without anyone to dance with - although Mohamed wouldn't have been of much use, since he admitted he can't salsa after all ("The only lie I've told, I swear.") - we decided to give up and go to Cinnabon instead. However, on the way out, we took steps to remedy our deficiency, and starting next Monday, we will be taking twice-weekly salsa lessons at La Piste. So maybe, just maybe, I'll come out of this summer having learned SOMETHING ...
We made it to La Piste okay, paid our cover, and went into the club. La Piste itself is also a dance studio, and the Wednesday salsa night happens to immediately follow a Wednesday night salsa class ... which means the people there were people who actually knew how to salsa, and who expected to dance with others who also knew how to salsa. This was the first problem ...
The club itself was awesome, though, with a great view of Cairo (or parts of it ... it is a really big city), including an extensive look at one of the "clubs" that dots the city, which happens to be across the street from La Piste. These clubs are essentially country clubs, just not out in the country - a place for Cairo's upper crust to see and be seen. We located the pool, the tennis courts, the basketball courts, and even the shooting range from the rooftop, and determined even from 15 stories above that the place was clearly much too expensive for either of us to join.
Too intimidated to stay by the dance floor, in case someone actually asked either of us to dance (which would have been a tragedy, since the expected skill level was not a requirement either of us would meet), we hung out on the balcony. Finally, Mohamed showed up, after Mona had mentioned to me that she wasn't entirely certain if she'd even recognize him anymore. It turns out he had the same problem; he and his friend stood on the balcony about ten feet away, looking over at us every now and again with an, "Is that them?" expression ... after 15 minutes, he gave in and called Mona's cell.
The four of us sat down, and Mona and I quickly decided Mohamed is a big freaking asshole. His conversations seem to always be combative, and when the conversation turned to America, this quickly proved to be a problem. The stupid thing was, there are SO MANY legitimate things to argue about regarding America, but he didn't pick any of them. Instead, he started spouting off about how Houston (where he claims to have lived for seven years, although Mona doesn't believe him) is a much better city than Boston, even though he's never been to Boston. He said Texas has a great economy, and I said, "You know, Massachusetts isn't really doing that bad either," and suddenly, he was PISSED. (And I swear I said those words, and in a relatively un-bitchy way.)
"So you think that because I lived in the States for only seven years, I don't know anything about America?"
"Not at all. I just think it's strange that you automatically assume you know more than me, when I lived there my whole life."
"Well, I do."
"Whatever makes you happy."
"It doesn't make me happy, it's the truth."
Now I was getting a bit irritated, because this could have been a funny, light-hearted conversation, but HE WASN'T JOKING. There wasn't even a hint of a smile, twinkling eyes, NOTHING to indicate he was anything besides 100% serious. And so ...
"Fine. You're clearly infinitely superior to me in every way."
And he responds - again, with absolutely no indication of humor - "Yes, I am."
About 45 seconds later, he and his friend left. I'm not quite sure how the mood turned so quickly, but I suspect it was somehow my fault. However, Mona doesn't blame me - she thinks he's just one of the many Egyptians who automatically hate Americans because we represent what they can't have. Additionally, he's a guy. Enough said.
So, at a salsa club but unable to dance, and without anyone to dance with - although Mohamed wouldn't have been of much use, since he admitted he can't salsa after all ("The only lie I've told, I swear.") - we decided to give up and go to Cinnabon instead. However, on the way out, we took steps to remedy our deficiency, and starting next Monday, we will be taking twice-weekly salsa lessons at La Piste. So maybe, just maybe, I'll come out of this summer having learned SOMETHING ...
posted by Teale at 1:49 PM
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