Leroy, dancing the tango, is a sight to behold. It’s not that he’s good exactly (he’s not good), but he’s somehow carrying it off. Even the Argentinians, the porteños, are watching on in appalled awe.
As for me, after a steak and a glass of Malbec in this gorgeous old Buenos Aires club, well it’s safe to say that I’m in a state of anticipatory dread – terrified that one of the milongueros, the beautifully dressed old men who have been dancing here for decades, will ask me to dance and I won’t know how to politely decline. I can’t dance a step. All that comes to mind is the spine-tingling tango scene from Moulin Rouge.