Everybody's Shufflin'

I stand in the fourth floor studio, nose pressed against the window, and watch the orange sun slide down behind the high rise glamour of Panama City.  This room is hot.  I run my fingers along the window, making a clear line through the condensation.

Behind me, a group of gorgeous Panamanian dancers.  They sweat and laugh and flirt with each other, delighting in their beauty.  They are almost ten years younger than me. 

We are learning a routine. 

A few hours ago I was approached by a jogging, middle-aged woman, who said breathlessly, you are perfect for my television commercial here is five dollars please come to my agency you will earn money. 

I needed cash.  She'd given me a fiver just standing there.  So I went. 

A few photographs later and I am the Chosen One, placed here in this incomprehensible situation, trying desperately to follow this leaping crowd. 

Don't get me wrong: I am an avid dancer.  I frequently lose my friends and myself on the dance floor, squeezing between sweaty bodies and the gaps between armpits to find a square of space in which to move.  And I dance with a hula hoop like many have never seen before, whipping it around and over my body in a looping, complex flow. 

I am built for strength, flexibility, perhaps a (very) subtle hint of grace. Put it this way; I am not known for my elegance. But once in a while, on streets and in clubs, those caves of movement, I am in my element.  I find liquidity.

However, as I survey the room's bouncing crowd of supple bodies, here is different.  My hula hoop seems like child's play compared to the inherent rhythm of these kids.  They are energy beings, made of lightness and gold.  I am an awkward girl in a turquoise dress, sweating just a little too much. 

As always, I am tuning into another language.  This time, however, it is the language of the body I cannot understand.

I stand by the window and alternate my attention between them and the skyscrapers, trying to drop my shame and bounce along with them, whilst sending silent thanks to the gods of chance for this new window onto my world. 

I have no idea why this woman decided I would be perfect for her mobile phone commercial. But two days and buckets of sweat later I leave with three hundred dollars and a face plastering the gaps between Central American sitcoms. 

Not bad for a little swallowed pride.  Plus, I can now whip out a routine to 'Shufflin' on command at any forthcoming dance floor.

Strange world.