This Is Not About Punctuality

I arrive at the Merc at 11 p.m. Stan points to his watch. He’s been there since the music started at 9.

We agree to meet tomorrow at the Turn to warm-up. “Music starts at 7:30,” he says. I usually arrive about 8:45.

Saturday night I arrived at Patricia’s party shortly after 11. “You’ve been here since she opened the door, haven’t you?” I ask. He nods happily.

The hardest thing about tango, Stan says, is waiting for it to begin.