From a loud salsa club, Daniel insists that he can dance, just not so much with the salsa. Betty wonders how she's supposed to teach him to salsa over the phone: "Have you ever even tried to mambo?" "Oh yeah, back in prep school we had a big mambo contest every year," says Daniel. He should be less snotty when he's interrupting her holiday to bail his desperate ass out.
Back at the table, Walter looks at his watch, then at the wall clock, which only reads 6:20. That doesn't seem very "almost 7" to me. ["It does when you're really really hungry!" -- Wing Chun]
Meanwhile, in the hallway, Betty is endeavoring to teach Daniel the basic salsa step over the phone. It goes all 24 splitscreen on us, except fun: Betty's face, Betty's feet, Daniel's face, Daniel's feet. He picks it up pretty quickly, and there's kind of a sweet moment where they're almost dancing together through the phone. Daniel, relieved, thinks he can do this. "Are you biting your lower lip?" Betty asks. Daniel, who realizes that he's totally rocking a White Man's Overbite right now, lets go of it and lies, "No." "Yes you are," Betty says. "Don't do that." Is anybody else really worried about the fact that Betty has become Daniel's guide to style and cool?
Daniel hits the restroom, just in time for an added boost of confidence: Hunter's already there. Standing at the next urinal over, Daniel sneaks a peek, and his expression makes it apparent that he's just discovered another way in which he doesn't measure up.
The Suarezes' wall clock strikes 7, and still no Leah. Justin tries to sneak a bit of stuffing, and without even looking at him, Hilda orders him to put it down. "How does she do that?" Justin asks Santos. "She's a little bit of a witch," Santos whispers back. "Give or take a letter," Betty adds. Hilda bounces a dinner roll off her sister's face for implying that she's a witca.
At the salsa club, Salma's out on the dance floor with some hot Latina when she spots Daniel on the edge of the floor, flailing away. He seems to have the footwork mostly down, but he's all elbows and shoulders otherwise. He asks if Hunter's hiding in a corner. "Poor guy can't be good at everything, right?" he says, faux-sympathetically. Right on cue, Hunter appears behind Salma and pulls her out on the floor. And Hunter's clearly over his dancing phobia, because he's confident and capable out there, twirling Salma around and always knowing exactly what to do with his feet. Daniel's, on the other hand, turn to wood as he watches. At the end of the song, Salma gets dipped, and so do Daniel's hopes. Salma heads to the bar for a mojito, telling Daniel "You're next!" as she passes. Alone with Hunter, Daniel demands to know what's up: "You told me you were a lousy dancer." Hunter maintains that it's true: "I was this close to making the ballroom dancing finals in Vienna in '98 and blew it with my paso doble. I stink!" Daniel miserably absorbs this unhappy lesson in relative merit.