All you need sometimes…

At the risk of sounding corny or rant-ish, I must say – when you’re going through a break-up, and a hard one at that, sometimes all you need is a hilarious night out with your girls. You may be reaching for the tissues all night, but this time, for the right reasons.

After some retail therapy and a scrumptious dinner at Asia 7, my friend Ashi and I decided to go for a drink to the Comedy Store bar. We were celebrating the Maharashtrian New Year, Gudu Padwa; that we had the next day off.

Midway through our drink, we were joined by our ever-entertaining friend, Asawari, or Gundi, as we lovingly call her. You gotta know her to get it. As good friends always do, we giggled our guts out at all her apprehensions about her impending move to London for her higher studies. Ashi then wanted to go up and check out Canvas.

A backnote here: Both Ashi and I want to join a Salsa class next month. And what do you know! There’s the aftermath of a salsa class going on at Canvas. We entered to pulsating salsa music and a dance floor that was soon teeming with couples, clearly not part of a beginners’ course. The steps, the shoes, the twirls, the coordination – it was all there. And there we three stood, feeling rather inept and inadequate.

Two men, obviously as good as the others, came to us and asked us to dance – which otherwise would have been flattering. Unfortunately we had to politely turn them down in fear of stepping on their toes and making complete fools of ourselves. We decided it was time to go.

Who would have thought getting out of a club would be this amusing (read:difficult)? For the next 15 minutes, or more, we spent prodding doors, pushing them when it clearly said pull, walking into the auditorium, inadvertently of course, lifting curtains, thinking there was a door behind it – and lots more. We finally thought it might be wise to go back through the only way we knew but Ashi vehemently opposed this. Why? Because this would mean walking back through the pool of talented dancers and proving to them that we were not only inept at dancing, but we were inept, period.

We went around all over again, ran through the parking lot and rushed towards the elevator, only to be greeted by a snoozing liftman.

What the hell happened to us that night? I don’t know nor do I want to. It was the most I had laughed in weeks.