Do I have a mood disorder? Or is this just what tango is like?

Sunday, at El Beso, I had maybe the best night I've ever had dancing. Every tango, every tanda was fantastic, euphoric, sublime. The milonga was seething with energy, the vibe from the music and the dancefloor enfolded and enlivened us. Thinking about it now is like a memory of intoxication. So this is what we seek; this is the tango 'hit'. It's been a long time since I've felt it, and it's never been so sustained. Annoyingly, I had to leave early, to meet some tourist friends at La Ideal - I could bearly drag myself away, but to borrow a sentiment from N, I felt like I could die a happy man.

Tuesday, at El Beso, you could set the scene the same way: music loud, dancefloor packed, room humid with humanity. But this time it was all too much. It was impossible to take a step in any direction, on or off the dancefloor, I couldn't string two steps nor two words together. Too crowded, too noisy, too chaotic to cope. All I wanted to do was break free and run. I went home and let cable TV wash over me before turning in. I guess it was the three hours sleep and the ten hour work-day that preceded it, but it was like a two hour retrospective of how I felt for the first nine months here - hemmed in and inadequate for the challenge.

Why did I keep dancing all that time? I guess because people kept telling me (and despite my protestations, I must have secretly believed it) that Sunday would happen. It better not take another nine months to happen again...