Dance, Dance, Revolution: a night in honor of Tanner, Bas, and Nate

This past Saturday was my dancing debut in Spain. The night began with supper at 9. I had an awesome burger, which I have been craving since I arrived in Spain, and a meal in a glass, aka: a pint of Guiness (I won't be getting that again for a while). Supper was followed by an icecream cone at McDonald's, the prerequisite for any serious dancer. Around 12 we made our way to our primary destination, a salsa bar.
One of the guys I was with, Craig, has more grace and elegance on the dance floor than Emmit Smith. He began teaching some of us amatures and then I gave it a go with Ju and then Brighton. The verdict came back and I was guilty of being a stereotypical white Dutch male. Oh well. After standing on the sideline for ten minutes I decided I should practice my salsa a little more. I had already danced with the two women in our group so I surveyed the room for a new partner. I saw the perfect candidate to my right. A forty-some year old Spanish woman was standing by her female friend (not dancing) and she was shaking her hips to the music. To me this looked like an obvious sign that she wanted to dance and was trying to lure some lonely man to the dance floor. As I built up my confidence (and got shoved in the back by Brighton) I stepped ahead and in broken spanish asked if she knew how to salsa. My question was answered with laughter, a concerned look at her friend, and shower of no's. Rejection, a dagger to my pride. I blamed the beard and walked back to my friends feeling like the last kid picked in kickball.
After a pity dance from Ju and some time standing by the wall, we decided to get some hydration. Leaving the Salsa club at 1:45 we headed to the always popolar street, calle Betis. Betis is the street with most of the bars. We hung around there for a while; meeting up with some classmates, sharing stories of the night so far, and making plans of what to do next. At 2:45 we decided to head to Orange.
Orange is a dance club for people in their 20's; the music is a mix of American and Spanish pop songs booming from speakers so that your ears ring for an hour after you leave. The crowd is a little more wild than a Salsa place so there is always chance for more adventure. The group that got into Orange was Ju, Brighton, Jess, Breeanna, Blake, and myself. 3 other guys tried to get in, but they came about 15 minutes after we did and didn't come with any girls (a problem). The huge men in suits by the door let girls in gor free, and if a guy walks in with two girls (like Blake and I each did) they usually don't charge; however, without women our friends were asked to pay 20 euros each. They didn't end up dancing with us that night. Those of us who did make it in had a fun time danicing until 4 am. Blake and I had a particularly fun time as we would watch for guys trying to touch or grind up on the girls; when we forsaw this happening we would dance our way between the particular guy and our friend and make him dance with us or no one. I find this particularly entertaining, the Spanish guys don't. :) As I said, we danced until a little after 4 and then headed home. After a twenty minute walk and the usual brushing of the teeth, I layed down on my springs, which I try to call a bed, and went to sleep. The clock read 4:45, an early weekend bed time according to Spaniards.