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I tried salsa once.

Not the kind that sets the senses tingling as chiles burn your tongue. That kind of salsa is a daily part of my diet. It transforms anemic scrambled egg whites, masks a dry baked potato and adds zest to just about everything else except chocolate pudding.

But I digress. What I'm talking about is the kind of salsa whose undulating beat awakens the rhythmical senses.

In fact, I've tried that kind of salsa twice.

But I think somewhere along the way I ended up in the wrong line when they were handing out rhythm. It's not all that uncommon for me to get in the wrong line, so I think that's what must have happened.

After all, I once ended up in the wrong line at the Motor Vehicle Department. That mistake ended up adding a good two hours to my pleasant stay in their facility while dealing with their charming, delightful employees.

And there's also the time I got confused about which line at the grocery store allowed only 15 items. The other patrons behind me loudly voiced their disgust, but the clerk was quite nice about it and only rolled her eyes at me twice.

In my quest to lose weight, I've been searching for a new form of exercise that would be fun, invigorating and burn at least 5,000 calories in a half hour so I'd have to go only once a week.

When my gym announced a new salsa dance class, I thought this might be the answer.

I walked into the room to find several women and a couple men chatting and relaxing, seated around the solid wood floor. Many of the women had scarves draped around their shoulders or lying neatly by their side. All I had was bottled water and a small, ratty hand towel from home (which I was hoping I'd need when I broke out in a healthy sweat).

I found an empty space as far away as possible from the wall-to-wall mirrors and sat down, smiling at anyone who glanced my way. I was hopeful that along with a fun form of exercise, I might make a new friend or two. I hardly noticed that most just looked me over, raised an eyebrow and turned back to their friends.

When the instructor arrived, she was just what I imagined - graceful, lean and tall. Her height would help me see her moves just fine from my place in the back row. She walked over to the sound system and turned on the music. My excitement was building. This was going to be fun.

But then, instead of staying by her wall-to-wall mirror, the instructor headed straight toward me. Those around me parted like the Red Sea, and I felt very much like the Egyptian Army must have when those waves began crashing down on top of them.

The horrific realization dawned that I was in the front row.

I tried to slink my way to the back, but the instructor foiled my escape as she spoke into her microphone.

"No, stay there," she said. "You're fine. And welcome to the class. Are we ready?"

With that, the class started. All too soon, I recalled my foray into step aerobics years ago. Even after months in the class, I never figured out how everyone else was up when I was down or why the rest of the class was gliding along doing the Grapevine while I was still working on Tap and Change.

Within moments, the class was swaying to the music, hips gyrating faster than the permanent-press cycle of my washing machine. Elbows and arms were flailing about while everyone moved this way and that. I was utterly lost.

I managed to sneak out before the end of class by pretending there was an urgent call on my cell phone. But when the next class rolled around, I gave it one more try - after making sure I was in the back this time.

Dirty glares and annoyed sighs were the norm for me as I lumbered about, attempting to keep up with the rapid-fire instructions bellowed over the loud music.

I was gathering my things to leave when the instructor spoke up.

"I notice it's a bit challenging for you," she said.

No kidding. She'd noticed?

"You might find you're better suited to exercise that's in a more defined area and isn't a group activity."

I was getting kicked out of salsa class? It was a new low for me.

"Have you ever tried a treadmill?" she asked.

She's right. I haven't managed to knock anyone down on a treadmill. At least not yet.