Now and then I needed to dance.
I was living in Brooklyn, NY during the height of Disco Mania. My son took gymnastics lessons at the same place where they filmed scenes from Saturday Night Fever. We got pizza at the same pizzeria and walked under the same subway el. I'll never forget seeing Saturday Night Fever the day it opened. As the opening scene scans an serial shot of Bay Ridge, Brooklyn someone in the packed theater shouts out "hey, dat's my fuckin' muddah's house".
So I would don the polyester and go to 3rd Avenue in Bay Ridge. I'd go to 2001 Odyssey and Brown Derby and the place that looked like a giant barn where all the sluts went after the "classy" clubs closed.
I would go with Linda and Maria and Stephanie - the divorced moms club.
I would meet Vinny and Sal and Johnny and Joe.
I would avoid the men I was positive were Russian gangsters. I could handle the Mafia but those Brighton Beach guys were creepy.
I would sip Rum and Diet Coke, no fucking lime please.
My boobs would barely stay in place against the shiny, skimpy material of a disco dress.
The platform shoes killed me but they also made my legs look great.
Plus I would become nearly 6 feet tall. The better to intimidate or stimulate.
And everywhere I went there was Donna ...
The clubs would close with Last Dance and I'd make sure to round up the girls and hit the sober up diner before all the booths were taken.
We'd put tons of quarters into the table side jukebox and play more Donna. One of us would always get maudlin over On The Radio.
Donna Summer was the Queen of Disco. The voice of an era.
For a tired young woman with what felt like the weight of the world on her shoulders Donna was the soundtrack of her fun and flirting.
Thank You Donna