"What's the lack of entertainment tonight?" I asked as we stood on the beach.
"Shine," Hania replies.
"Shit!" I exclaim.
He is a disc jockey who sings the songs. It's a mixture of 1950's rock-n-roll, Bob Marley Reggae, and the "Electric Slide."
The old people love it and crowd the dance floor at Papagayo's which is managed by my friend Carlos. He often weaves through the crowd dancing with this person or trying to hold someone up gasping for air in the hot sticky night.
Their is no other option.
After a nice dinner which we prepared ourselves and ate under the stars, the four of us make our way to be entertained. As soon as we enter, Carlos grabs Sarah and the dancing begin. Releasing her to rescue another elderly woman gasping for air, she and I dance wildly and passionately. We smile, enjoying ourselves and occasionally join Conner and Hania at the bar. Our bodies are hot with sweat in the thick Tropical air.When Slide plays the "Electric Slide" Carlos joins Sarah in mimicking the way I do it, with a wild high kick on the turn. The three of us look as though we've practiced but they laugh as they make fun of me.
There is a law here that the music stops at 10:00 which makes absolutely no sense, other than allowing people to go to bed early without hearing music. Of course this is completely negated by the music coming from Le Gallion, a beach bar around the cove.
But precisely at 10:00 Slide mercifully stops crucifying songs.
We bid Carlos and other friends good-bye and stroll under star lit Palm Trees swaying in the Trade Winds. Sarah and I hold hands as our feet glide over the sandy road leading to our tiny studio where another dance erupts as the hot Tropical night continues.
