Horseshoes Milonga

I walked out of the subway station and heard the clopping of horseshoes. Out of the night appeared a carriage pulled by a lone white horse. It was one of those cheesy tourist horse-and-carriage rides. I hailed it like a cab and the driver pulled over asking if I needed a ride. I accepted duly noting that the driver was female-- Rule #2 in the Hitchhiker's Guide for Girls. Rule #1 would be "No hitchhiking in the middle of the night, especially in shady neighborhoods like Fishtown. But that's a hard one to follow, I find, whether I'm in Fishtown, Seattle, or Lebanon.

And so I found myself behind led by way of horse through the main streets, and then through the back alleys of Fishtown that I usually do my best to avoid. That night though, while the driver chatted amiably about how she'd been working this job for the past two decades, I found the view from behind fences and shadowy growth of trees impossibly romantic. The smell of sawdust alerted me that she was close to home, but she continued on until we were about one shady block from the back of the tango studio. Here she let me off and told me which way to go, waving away my money. I thanked her and ran off for I was already fairly late, climbed into and wended my way through the Field of Absurd Objects, and eventually approached the front window where the now-familiar sight of men and women dancing in intimate embrace met my eyes.

Here's a secret about tango dance events: the best time of any milonga is at the very end of the night at around 2am, usually. By this time the general crowd has gone home, and so the atmosphere is intimate, less chaotic. Poetic. Gorgeous strains of Piazzolla are played specially at this time. Only the really serious dancers are left. Meredith, Andres and Damian finally dance.

A couple stands at the doorway leading to Jerry's apartment looking out at these remnant dancers. A heavyset couple, his arm around her waist, her arm around his waist. Their heads form a window; through this space between the couple, in the distance, I see Damian and his partner waiting for the cue to start dancing, wreathed by the periwinkle blue Christmas lights framing the studio's window. I move past the couple and over to the piano. Nearby, Andres leads Meredith into a ridiculous number of spins that look ridiculously fun. She stumbles and laughs, then recovers and spins again. They move along in the line of dance.

Next comes Kristin and John, he'd finally nervously and hilariously worked up the nerve to ask her for a dance. I had been sitting between them in Jerry's apartment in the back of the studio, and it had been like watching high school. Or middle school. Only he was 24 and she in her 40's with a child. At tango, there are a number of women who dress and carry themselves in a way that belies their true age by a decade, sometimes two. I find myself chatting with Kristin about the worth of having a child. She is different from my older friends who do not have children. I think in becoming a mother, what you lose in lightness of spirit, you gain in putting aside superficialities and...yourself.

Carolyn walks in dressed to the nines in a champagne pink form-fitting satiny dress-- a dress she bought more than ten years ago with a custom-made slit on the sides. She is Walking Elegance. Someone should stop time so she will never change. But someone probably had the same thought about her when she was in her 20's and now she's even more beautiful-- and wiser, and a better baker. She had catered the entire menu that night. She says goodbye to us, brushing cheeks one-by-one. She leaves.

Ori walks in, high on life as usual. He had promised Elinora Ballerina a dance and had never followed through. Such is Ori. I watch the two of them communicating. She communicates with intimacy, no matter who she is with. I like, I like. John reasserts himself:

"It's one of those days where...where...where..."

We waited. He blew air under his bangs in frustration as we mocked him playfully as he struggled to get his words out.

"It's one of those days where everything should have gone perfectly,...but didn't! I wish I could do this day over again!"

"Hi, my name's Angie, nice to meet you!" We shook hands again. Before the night is over (just barely), I see them on the floor together in the line of dance.