Chapter 4: Ballroom Blitz
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Inside, the Boston Hilton looks like any other big city chain hotel.
Everything is nice. Everything is shiny. Everything is clean.
Everything is a bit soulless.
We made our way to the ballroom and on
entering could see someone looking suspiciously like a kick ass salsa
DJ. It was Nik preparing some of the music for that nights
performances.
Hugs n handshakes ensued. I gave Nik a gift I’m sure he’ll treasure
for, well, a few days at least. A magnificent Burnley Football Club
replica home shirt.
“They in what, the 4th Division?” inquired Nik.
“Hey, watch it, we are an established first division side. Play
Derby County tomorrow in a vital relegation match” I snorted.
“Oh, Derby, I heard of them” replied Nik rubbing Boston Sea Salt into
my just inflicted wound.
We showed Nik ‘el Lapiz Touristico’ for Lapiz and all agreed it was one
ugly and utterly pointless Mo Fo, and that he must have it. Ricardo
explained the situation regarding the locked bag and a hotel
maintenance guy was called out to apply his considerable skill and
experience to the lock. He arrived with a monkey wrench.
A monkey wrench!?!
“Guess I should have brought my bolt cutters” he said
before looking at the pathetic little tin lock. “Oh, hang on…..”
He gave the lock the faintest of touches and in time considerably less
than a second the lock fell away. Monkey wrench it is then, always
best to leave these things to the experts.
Now, for some reason, turtles were to feature quite a lot over the
period of our stay. Those of a sensitive nature look away now. There
are many expressions used to indicate that ones bowels are ready for
action. Those of a sensitive nature but were curious anyway skip to
the next paragraph. “Gotta find a toilet, I have a turtles head ready
to peep out” I said. “Touching cloth?” inquired Ricardo. “No, but I
need to let the little fella have a splash around”. Nik informed us
that “Touching Cotton” was an expression one of his friends used and
that Bostonians referred to “dropping the kids off at the pool”. The
English language is truly a wonderful thing.
We didn’t have enough time to get back to Niks house to do flashy
things like wash and change our well traveled clothing, so we made
our way to the hotel toilets [rest rooms for non UK residents, but
who the hell rests In these rooms?]. There we did our best to freshen
up. I hung my shirt over the sink and the automatic tap was
activated. Better wear a different one I noted and put the soaking
garment back in the bag to develop mould/spores over the weekend.
Down to the car with Nik, who placed our bags in the back of his
silver Volkswagen Golf, before we all headed to the bar. No idea what
we talked about but it was not the upcoming Burnley-Derby encounter.
Looks like I’d have to work hard at getting Nik to become a true
Clarets fan.
I had to pick up my pass for the weekend, one of those plastic-paper
wrist bands that over time shrivels and curls, trapping sweat and arm
hair. Nice. The woman who served me was lovely, even when I asked
what would happen if I refused to sign the Disclaimer Form organiser
David Melendez wanted everyone to sign so he could peddle Congress
Video/promotional material at a later stage. She was understanding so
I signed it ‘M. Mouse’.
Back in the ballroom we met Antonio, a Boston DJ and all round nice
bloke. By 9.10pm the Boston Salsa Congress kicked off to the sounds
of DJRicardo on the decks. As people filtered in it was clear that
Ricardo had, for some reason, decided to go against type and play the
most banging, swinging tracks on the albums he brought. Nik commented
that he played like a good NYC DJ, building his set nicely and not
playing too loud or fast for the crowd. As the doors had opened a
little late DJAntonio gave Ricardo some extra time, some of his set
time in fact. He was repaid with the time honoured gift of booze.
Ricardo managed to get ¾ of the few hundred present to hit the floor.
Mission accomplished.
In fact, as a hanger on in DJ corner I took it upon myself to try and
act as runner for drinks and messages. The Security guys soon picked
up that I was something to do with the DJs and kept commenting “More
DJ food, right?” each time I passed with a drink or three.
We had a chat with Super Mario at some stage. He was hoping to sell
some videos here but wasn’t sure how well they would do – he had all
three volumes of Super Moves with him.
After Antonio’s set it was performance time. David Melendez skipped
onto the stage, wearing a jacket that I considered to be at least 4
sizes too big for him.
“Welcome (smile) I’m not Albert Torres but I know a man who is…..” etc.
The first group up were a young hip-hop team and I have to say they
were better than quite a few of the salsa performers I saw over the
weekend. I’m not a fan of the salsa troupe performances in general
and whilst I saw some great dancers and routines, I can’t say I have
changed my view that there are simply too may of these at Congresses.
I think 17 were scheduled for Friday night alone.
———
Previously Deleted/Lost Scene
Restored Outtake:
Checking the information post-event, I can tell you that an incredible (to me) 48 performances were scheduled over the 3 nights. Looking at the Congress Itinerary I see that in actual fact 57 were listed. As there was only one room for all the evening activities, there was no salsa-escape/alternative on offer.
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The Official Congress Video team tried manfully to cut out Ricardo
sat on the side of the stage. Not because he’s ugly, but because his
main activity was to unhinge his jaw like the baddie in the film The
Mummy and Yawn For England. Frequently. Go Ricardo!
We were understandably tired and as the night wore on, plus an
additional 5 hours to our day don’t forget, we decided to try and
find somewhere in the lobby to grab 40 winks. I managed about 9 winks
though. Nik had warned us that the Hotel Security would hassle us,
and, he was right.
I stayed (mostly) awake to allow Ricardo to sleep.
A couple of times uniformed staff came up and said “you can’t sleep
here”.
“He can’t hear you, he’s asleep” I responded, “I’ll tell him
when he wakes up”.
They were un-amused so I added “We’re just waiting
for a friend to finish” in a I Know You Have A Job To Do But Give Us
A Break manner.
We went back up to the ballroom in time to catch an equally tired Nik
finish of what would have been Ricardo’s final set of the
night. “Man, I’m so tired I couldn’t see the tracks” said Nik, “at
one stage I played the wrong songs, twice in a row”.
————-
Previously Deleted/Lost Scene
Restored Outtake:
From the lobby I could hear that Nik was playing a mean set. It was reported at some stage that the music could be heard loud and clear as high as the 4th floor, goodness knows what the non-congress goers thought about this.
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As we prepared to leave Nik introduced us to his wife Parya
[pronounced Pat-ia]. “Hey, you’re the nice wrist band woman” I
exclaimed, thinking it was a good job I’d not given her real shit
over the ‘consent’ form/disclaimer.
We headed back to Niks place with a friend of his called Jimmy. He was
dropped off in a nice neighbourhood that Nik thought was too nice for
him. After negotiating the streets [Nik seemed strangely unfamiliar with Bostons roads] we made it to Niks for around 4am.
“The only thing I want is coffee” I said.
“We don’t have coffee, but we do have tea” said Nik.
That’ll do, great.
“We have no milk” added Parya.
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Previously Deleted/Lost Scene
Restored Outtake:
Casa Caswell is a classic Boston smart first floor apartment. Wooden floorboards, duck-egg blue paint work complimented the numerous Middle Eastern decorative touches throughout the place. Very tasteful. Here we hastily packed our 24 hour NYC bag, and as we were later to learn, in doing so spoiled our intentions to honour Lapiz in a special and meaningful manner.
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After showing us how to ring for a taxi in a couple of hours { Travelers Tip: no pre-bookings accepted, even at 2 hours notice} we
had our mug of filtered water, said our good nights and lay down on
the double bed.
“Pull my nightie down when you’re finished love” said Ricardo. He’s a
fruity one I thought.
Less that two hours later Jimmy Sabater woke us up. Well,
strictly speaking it was a CD that Parya had programmed to come on at
6am so as to make sure we didn’t get any REM sleep and miss our taxi.
I called the taxi, woke Ricardo and in 15 minutes we were headed for
downtown Boston. 7am Chinatown bus service and NYC here we come.