City Dancers

By Senica Lopez

High heels, sneakers, boots and loafers - these are our dancing shoes. My pace quickens, trying to keep in step with the silent music and the dancers around me. Most of them are professionals. This is a daily dance for many of them.

Throughout my journey from the Bronx to Manhattan, I notice that nearly everyone has memorized their steps. They are quickly moving to the upbeat music within us, silently instructing us to hurry up, “Quickly, quickly now. Right foot, left foot, side step. Now twirl around the bum!” Occasionally there are collisions. Why can't you remember your moves? I want to yell at them. I step left, you step right!

Inside stores and shops, the inherent music slows. Time for the waltz. Our feet glide across the floor as we circle the clothes racks searching for a steal. Once outside, we must be alert and on point, for the music changes promptly. “Quickly now! Step one, step two. Now leap over the puddle!”

Sometimes the music is not within us, but around us. It comes from street corners, boom boxes, subways, and street cars. After my 15 minute intermission on the train, I step out onto the platform that now echoes the salsa music playing from the three-man band. I pass the band, but the music continues to play in my head, making me want to swing my hips just a little bit more as I walk to my next train. A five minute intermission later, the salsa music still playing in my head is replaced by a jazzy tune belted out by an elderly man whose skin clings to his bones for dear life. My pace slows in conjunction with the lazy music.

Outside, a man with a guitar plays a tune of sorrow and regret. My head bowed, I somberly continue on my journey. I am nearing my destination. I am on a street with no music playing, only the music within us all. “Chop, chop!” my instructor reminds me. “Step one, step two. Now duck under the tourist's camera!”

I enter the building, past the double doors and the receptionist filing her nails. There is no music here. I can relax; no more dancing. But as the elevator doors close behind me, I am reminded that the music never stops playing.