I love horns. Trumpets in particular. There is something about a melody that fades away only to segue into a honey filled horn phrase that makes my heart want to burst. In a good way, of course. This explains a bit of my love affair with mariachi music and old school salsa. With mariachi, well.. you sing along, throw back some tequila, curse your ex-lovers, profess your undying love for your horse, and pay homage to your roots. Crying is good, too.
When it comes to salsa, I can't help it. I move. I just go until I can't eke out another turn. There are breaks, of course. Maybe for a cold beer, or glass of water, but then, I have to dive back in. There is no standing on the sidelines. Absolutely impossible.
Now.. in keeping with the spirit of outdoor dancing, I was fortunate enough to have an evening off for something that I had been looking forward to all summer. Willie Colon. Outdoors. East River. 75 degrees. Heaven.
The energy was insane,the neighborhood was beyond ready, and Willie delivered the honey.
Deja los rollers, mami.. let's go!
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