Loring Tango Study Break

So I'm at Espresso Royale in Dinkytown last night, which was a Sunday night. I'm working on Mexican and Ojibwe housing research, but I need a break. Luckily in my tote back of books and highlighters, I've also tucked a pair of tango shoes. I fish them out, pick up my purse, and walk across the street to the Pasta bar. Within minutes I'm dancing to Mandragora's rendition of Vuelvo al Sur (my heart sings!), in the arms of a smiling, prancing Paul (at least this time when he introduced himself to me he questioned whether we'd met before; this guy is something else; I literally "meet" him every single week. I must exist on that black hole portion of his brain).
I danced with 5 men last night; it started out shaky (paul's dancing is easy but dull, followed by an uncomfortable and demoralizing turn with Niko---he really shouldn't be teaching on the dance floor. it's not chivalrous. And I took offense at him critiquing my embrace when he was holding me like a floppy dish rag). But then things picked up, and my last 3 songs of the night were danced with David (or is it just Dave) the slim, bearded man who is a close friend of Sandy and Sylvie. He's a lavish dancer; I know he performed in Maria de Buenos Aires at Jeune Lune, so he has some choreography under his belt, too. It was fun, and his way of not making me feel idiotic on my mess-ups puts him high on my list of nice leaders to dance with. After that high note, there was nothing left to do but put my Danksos back on and walk back over to the coffee shop and my waiting pile of work.