Blood On The Dancefloor

About 27 years ago, Martin Scorsese released a boxing epic on the life of heavyweght champion Jake LaMotta. The film itself was entitled Raging Bull, which was LaMotta’s apt nickname on and off the boxing ring. It’s a pretty brutal film with great performances by Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci. Scorsese earned an Oscar nomination and the film itself was voted ‘Best Film of the Eighties’.

While Scorsese is in contention for an Oscar come Monday night for The Departed, the spirit of Jake LaMotta lives on in salsa clubs like Salsa Havana, where Nim and I visit regularly.

We’re seasoned salsa veterans although I won’t profess to having the same slickness to most of my peers. These days the real art of salsa is to avoid the many Raging Bulls out there from doing damage to me and Nim.

I’m talking about flying elbows – courtesy of salseros bringing in too much of a ballroom technique.

There are heels too, both from the men and women. The men can come down hard on you and while women in stilettos are deadlier than a wounded Navy Seal bent on revenge.

Open breaks and ‘New Yorkers’ mean pointed fingers come in eyeball range while heavy-weight beginner females lumber aimlessly in their basic steps, causing collateral damage all over the dancefloor.

Women with long-hair are also deadly on full turns. The whip effect of their hair – akin to slap - can usually be avoided with a simple hair band. If you want to look like J-Lo then by all means, but take it off before your little ‘show’ on the dancefloor. Your Marc Anthony will appreciate it.

Basically, LaMotta would cringe at the injuries that are suffered each week at Salsa Havana. My Tuesday night futsal matches are less physical.

I’m having to constantly look over my shoulder before manoeuvering cross-body leads in case Nim or another dance partner is likely to suffer a head-on collision.

Sure, it’s great to have fun salsa-ing and to let your hair down, literally. But taking small steps is good manners and having those elbows tucked in is even better. That’s dancing etiquette.

On maybe Kuala Lumpur needs more salsa clubs? Every one of them seems to have the same problem – tight spaces and a dearth of observant dancers.

I’m finding ways to cope. For the time being, armour-plated heel protectors are top of my list next time I head to the mall. And here’s to Scorsese winning the Oscar for Best Director.