Zippity-DON'T-Do-Zumba-Rita!

 All right...not ALL of my ideas are gems. But I really thought I'd stumbled onto something with the whole "Zumba-rita" thing. I mean, c'mon! What better way to make exercise more palatable than to combine it with alcohol? How on earth would I have ever predicted that only my healthy friends would show up?

I refuse to believe that "Zumba-rita" is a young person's game. My daughter, Sydney, out in San Diego was insanely enthusiastic about the event and apparently there is great interest in having her host one on the West Coast. But there were some hints that my crew might be past their fun-loving prime. "7 o'clock...at night?" came one response to my scheduled evening time (Even I don't start drinking THAT early). Several requested an afternoon session, citing early bedtimes as an excuse. I began to sense that I wouldn't be able to please ANYONE. Even my personal trainer, upon learning of my snack offering of guacamole and chips, texted, "What? No queso?"

As I snarfed down a white pizza and pre-party margarita with Geri (who was sporting her "Get out of Zumba-free shoulder sling), I brainstormed our after-Zumba PD watch party. "The last person to stand whenever the narrator says the word OSHA will have to either take a shot or complete a Shameful Act," I explained to Geri, snagging her half-full margarita glass. She looked slightly alarmed. "Here," I said, pulling out a crumbled list and handing it to her. She perused it quietly before editing anything having to do with piercings or battery-operated implements. I pouted. "All that's left is the Chicken Dance and saying the alphabet backwards," I complained.

I was alarmed when our guests arrived. These were all hard-core Zumba experts...fluent in left-to-right lateral movements and they could all stand up out of a squat WITHOUT assistance. I greeted them each with a foaming, frosty glass which they all politely declined. What would become of those four unclaimed beverages, I fretted. But you know what they say when it comes to exercise...sometimes you just have to push through and take one (or four) for the team.

Our Zumba instructor, Felicia, arrived, emerging from beneath her sleek curtain of hair after she tied her shoes from a STANDING position, to ask me where the speaker was. Huh. Was I responsible for that? "Amy, I asked you if I needed to bring anything and you said no." I chewed reflectively on my straw and then offered to sing her selections for the session. Instead...innovator and problem-solver that she is...Felicia parked her car in the middle of Geri's backyard. There! Good to go.

I parked myself in the back row with my friend Traci who is currently doing a 25 push-ups for 25 days challenge. I told her not to feel bad if she couldn't keep up with me. Sarah...our techno-wizard who scared me by mistakenly thinking that I'm a LOT smarter than I am (Showing me snazzy new digital learning platforms..."Amy, I can totally see you doing this!" Amy: eyes glazed and frightened, nodded numbly), refused to believe that Traci and I couldn't line-dance. "But that was taught in school," Sarah exclaimed while Traci gently explained that she and I were from the square dance generation which turns out not to translate well to Zumba. Maybe I can talk Felicia into adding "allemande" and "promenade" to her list of moves.

We concluded our Zumba session with my signature song. "Try to stay with me, girls," I encouraged as I writhed across Geri's lawn. Erin leaped in to partner with me, only to quickly discover how dangerous a dip is with a person with no muscle tone, dexterity, grace, or syncopated rhythm.  It is also IMPOSSIBLE to twirl a girl who has no equilibrium. For her own safety, Erin abandoned me to my own warped free-style flailing and fumbling.

Zumba over, we all hydrated...some more than others. My Watch Party was cancelled because all of my healthy friends are also ridiculously responsible and had already viewed ALL of the required training videos. Are you kidding me!?!?

So...Zumba-rita was a bust. Apparently EVERYBODY out there is already in GREAT shape and is of no need of socially-distanced interaction. FINE! As the only currency I  currently had was queso, I paid Felicia, packed up my guacamole, and went home. No more Zumba-rita for this senorita! What a bunch of excreta!