The Ever-expanding MARVELous Salsa Character Universe
Here we go… welcome to the club, you salsa characters:
The Faucet (idea submitted by Zorro): Let’s face it. All true salseros and salseras are this character to some degree. The Faucet is that dancer that drowns you with their sweat throughout the entire three-minute entanglement. They are easy to spot: their skin is shiny; some of them (being self-aware of who they are) will have a towel knotted around their belt-loop; they are slippery to the touch; some may come with a slight odor (though dance sweat does not have to be this way). And if all these signals fail to present themselves to you, then the absolute telling way to know you have just danced with a faucet is… are you wet? Do you feel like you’ve just passed through Niagra Falls? For you prudes, here is how you get over a Faucet: embrace that what you are doing is a having a somatic conversation with another human being. You are tapping into another way of dialogue. It can be disgusting, it can mean nothing, or it can be like hot sex. Take your pick. The only way to beat being a Faucet is bringing a towel and change of shirt. Or offering a towel to one who hasn’t been enlightened as to what salsa character they are. If you could care less about your partner, then guys, consider this: being a Faucet can be a gateway drug into becoming…
Butterfingers: It’s as if these guys took a bath in oil before going out to dance purposely so that you can never lock hands. See a girl suddenly fly across the room without a partner crashing into the wall after taking out another couple? Look carefully for the single guy staring, without guilt, alone… chances are he’s a Butterfingers who sent this salsera into orbit. Even if you are a Wolverine or Wolfsbane who locks his or her claws into him, aint nothing gonna make you stick. Much like dancing with an Other Dimension, it’s like these guys have a magnetic field around them that repels you violently when you approach. Sometimes it is a temporary status from being a Faucet, and a good towel-down can liberate you from the follies of being this salsa character.
The Con Idea submitted by Bianca: They come in both sexes. Let’s start with the salsero. Much like his cousin, 
The Fan, the con-man gives airs that he is an orisha’s gift to salsa. He’ll have an on-2 shirt, or perhaps a Don Juan suit (or the mystery-man hat that adds swagger to his his 2-stomps). He’ll boast shirts from every single salsa congress that passed his way or he journeyed to. But when it comes down to dancing, this guy turns out to be selling snake oil. Can’t find his ones or twos, never mind the three, five, six, seven. Sigh… why, why, why did you trick me you charlatan! Perhaps he means well, he really does love salsa… he’d just do the salsa universe well by remaining a Fan. How to spot a Con-Woman… well we usually look like hot-little things oozing salsa-exuality… Until you try dancing with us. Tsk, tsk to those who have been conned. Who told you to fall into Latin stereotypes?
The Crab: Side-step, side-step, shuffle, shuffle, shuffle… These are all the steps you need to know for that salsero who leads you horizontally back and forth across the dance floor for a full three minutes (Lord help you if it’s an elongated remix). This happens mostly with (what’s now called) Street Salsa. If only the Crab could merge with a Treadmill, his salsa would be a symphony.
The Treadmill: The treadmill is the salsero who blandly, boringly, tortuously, and agonizingly leads you through a dance doing nothing but a basic step. Three minutes becomes three hours. Dancing becomes hand-holding as you shuffle back and forth. 
Ladies, make the most of it! Burn those calories and tone those muscles as you would on a treadmill. Pointless stepping that gets you nowhere and nothing. Your only tool against this villain is to squeeze some ladies styling in between the numbers, and unless he has a lock on you, liberate yourself from this metronome and break out in shines.
Robin Hood: I am guilty of being this character at times… A Robin Hood goes around the dance floor offering charity dances to the Shy-But-Whys and sometimes (undeservedly) to Have No Rhythm, Don’t Count, Don’t Care’s. Robin Hoods do this for a number of reasons: they are on the clock (aka, salsa teachers), they feel bad for people, they believe everyone deserves a good time, they like to sample anything that walks the earth, or they really can’t stand seeing…
Wallpaper: Sigh… my heart goes out to these salseros. You’ve probably never, ever 
noticed them, because, well, they’re wallpaper. They perpetually stand on the periphery of the dance floor and are either: too cool to dance, are so f*cking afraid to ask a girl or guy to dance, or can read but can’t write (meaning they can do a class pattern with no problem but can’t bring those skills to spontaneously dance at a social). These guys have superhuman powers of camouflage- it doesn’t matter which social they bring themselves to, they will assume the exact coloration of the walls and be ignored by every passing salsera. If you mourn that you are such a character, pray, Wallpaper, that a Robin Hood spots you.
Wolverine: Have scratch marks all over your arms, hands and torso? You’ve just danced with a Wolverine or Wolfsbane. Get these dancers a nail filer and nail clipper before they do any more damage. Nails may work for strumming your guitar or looking cute, but they don’t work on the dance floor.
Mr. Fantastic: That’s from the Fantastic Four, you non-nerds, and this salsero does
such amazing things with his arms. He can stretch them (and you) into a pretzel, and successfully twirl you out of it. These guys are usually Fred Astaires and if you’ve only had him only once, a Zorro. Their unbelievable turn patterns that defy human logic and physics are tell-tale signs you’re with a Mr. Fantastic, which is not to be confused with…
Doctor Octopus: Brother of the Predator and the bad cousin of Mr. Fantastic, these guys are all arms that do nothing but annoy you. They flap them like chickens, grope you left and right, smack you around… none of it materializing into a turn pattern. A self-help tip: make lemonade from lemons and find a Mr. Fantastic to help you nurture your arm talents into something useful.
Ok, I better stop. So much for writing today…
If you’ve never read salsa characters before… oh, there’s more. Click here for ghosts of past.
