When I got to the Salsa Workshops, Pedro was sitting on a bench holding his head. He said, "they are too much for me."

In front of me was a dazzling, 105 pound young woman, in black high heels, red nail polish, waves of black hair, tight pants, bulging blouse, playful Latin eyes outlined in dark mascara, a huge smile, bubbling personality, whirling through a mesmerizing complex of turns, with a combination of delicate gestures from lovely hands to untamed hips displaying feminine power.

There was a team of about 30 of them dressed in black and red that came up from Miami.

It was 1:30 in the afternoon. If you were anywhere else, you were in the wrong place.