The strangest Halloweeen

After a rather large Friday night out prematurely celebrating Halloween, we were not really in the mood for a long night but Rhia, Natalie and I figured we could probably manage to throw a few shapes on the salsa dance floor all the same.
Heading out with a group of Colombians we arrived at the club and swiftly moved to the dancefloor. Latin men don’t really take 'no' as an answer and if you so much as hold your head near their eye-level you are immediately tugged onto the dance floor for a few energetic jaunts where you simply try not to get motion sickness as they spin you around.
When space started to clear in the centre and a man took to the microphone, Rhia pushed me forward into the limelight. Too dizzy from my last dance to be fully aware of what was happening I obliged and found myself stood in front of hundreds at the club volunteering to dance in a competition.
I ended up stood next to a short, bespectacled man watching a complex dance routing that we were supposed to follow. Watching the other, far more experienced but nonetheless still quite terrible, couples I resigned myself to the fact that this would just have to go down as one of those mildly embarrassing anecdotes that I could glamorise for my grandchildren.
Trying to work out how we would compensate for the height difference I attempted to recall the sequence when the camp announcer motioned it was our turn. Fortunately my partner took no notice of my English sensibility and spun me around throwing me over his knee for a dazzling finish before my brain or clumsy-prone conscious self could catch up. Whoops and claps indicated that it had gone well as I stood there waiting for the white lights in my eyes to fade and wandering what had just happened.
A clap-o-metre revealed us as clear favourites and down to my short, athletic, clark-kent type partner we walked away with a bottle of champagne each and our pride firmly intact. Quaffing away with Rhia and Natalie we drank up, danced a bit more and pinched a few Halloween souvenirs before heading back to Natalie’s for some rest.

Before we had a chance to touch the bedsheets a couple men in wigs hauled us up to their flat for a house party which meant more dancing and drinking of fruity vodka with BA’s most affluent transvestite quarter.