My big sis Shannon, who doubles as my best friend, suggested we take a dance lesson on Monday night. Bearing the emotional and physical scars of past bad ideas (padded bras in high school and back diving off the high board), I really wanted to say no. But I acquiesced after learning that our destination sold alcohol. Faux dancing shoes in tow, off we boogied to the Melody Club (3027 Crossview Dr., 713-785-5301). Two surprises awaited us in this cavernous 30-year-old dance hall — an amazing sound system and lots of men, bless their hearts. For just ten bucks each, the adorable Damon D'Amico, one of Houston's top dance instructors, had us gracefully two-stepping for a solid hour. I actually enjoyed myself, but my partners' skills were as varied as their facial hair — when did moustaches come back in style? — and when it was over, I was ready for a cocktail. The dollar domestic longnecks tempted me, but real dancers need real drinks. Giving me his best moves, Kevin choreographed a hammer lock, a visually pleasing libation with enough of a wallop to ease my throbbing toes. A couple of regulars informed me that I could come back for salsa on Thursdays, West Coast swing on Fridays or, for Dancing With the Stars aficionados, ballroom on Tuesdays. Not committing to a return engagement, I signaled my sister that it was time to bow out. As we drove home, I wondered how much professional dancing shoes cost.
1 ounce Hypnotiq liqueur
1 ounce pineapple juice
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1 ounce orange juice
Combine Hypnotiq and juices, and serve over ice in a martini glass. Pirouette, drizzle grenadine on top and garnish with cherries.