"Be my Kevin Bacon!"

Keating has been enjoying his salsa class and, according to some of his Korean classmates I met this weekend, is the best non-native-Mexican dancer in the group. Despite the terrified looks from some of his classmates when he suggested it, he is starting to itch to actually go out to a real salsa club and build on his skills. While his classmates may not be game for the adventure, Keating found an enthusiastic accomplice in one of our Spanish-speaking friends. Jorge, a Colombian architect married to my boss' daughter, is reputed to be an incredible dancer. (It may just be in our social circle, but there appears to be a lot of reverence for Colombia here. Within my hearing so far, the Colombians have been credited with being the best dancers, having the best sense of humor, and speaking the best Spanish in all of Latin America.) Jorge's wife, Monica, seems less than enthusiastic about the idea of going on a salsa dancing double date, since it turns out that she doesn't really like to dance. (Oh, sacred stereotypes! What is happening?? A man that likes dancing more than his wife? A Latina with little interest in dancing? What is the world coming to??) Keating's plan: get Jorge to teach him at least 20% of what he knows, thereby reenacting our own little version of Footloose. While I love that Keating is really getting into this, I don't ever need to hear "Be my Kevin Bacon!" from my husband's lips again. It makes me start looking around nervously for tractors.