Salsa 'Till You Drop

My dad's wife is from Colombia and she wanted to throw a party while I was visiting them this past weekend. Now, this wasn't going to be the stodgy sort of party that is common to people my parents' age--this was to be a Colombian party. I had little idea what to expect, other than being told that everyone would dance a lot, and thus I was given a few cursory salsa lessons [side note: I have decent rhythm, but fixed dance steps elude me...]

So, about 40 people of all ages fill their modest house, the music is blasting, and the dancing begins with gusto. And everyone is dancing--all ages, male and female. And they're GOOD. It was pretty intimidating but I was already out of the loop being the only one there not speaking Spanish, so I just went with it and had fun. And when beautiful Colombian women ask you to dance, it certainly helps allay any apprehension you might have.

Okay, the music is loud. I mean, LOUD. Like I'm wondering if the cops are going to show up. And then, with a smell of burning plastic and a whiff of ozone, my dad's amplifier blows. Ouch. While my dad works feverishly to hook up a backup system the party goers don't miss a beat--they start telling jokes to fill the time before the music begins again. Now, I couldn't understand a single word, but apparently the jokes were damn funny (and a bit racy I was told later). Then, the music commences and the dancing begins again in earnest.

Second amp blows (I'm not kidding). But does the party stop there? Hardly. One of the guys leaves and, ten minutes later, shows up with the amp and speakers from his house. This was about 1:30am. The music starts, the dancing goes on. and on. It was one of the most amazing things I've ever witnessed.