Robi and I went downstairs for danishes yesterday morning.
The cafe was playing catchy calypso music.
The kind where your hips start to gyrate independently.
I began to cha-cha-cha, still high from my Spanish class.
The guy beside me laughs.
I turned to him.
Eyes wide, big smile, cha-cha-cha-ing.
"It's just like being on vacation!"
He looks at me and very firmly says
"No. It. Is. Not!"
I stop dancing.
"You're right," I said, glancing at my watch. "It's 10 am. If I was on vacation, I'd have a drink in my hand."
He wags a finger at me.