THE RHYTHM OF THE NIGHT

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (08-18-22)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     Some might say that anyone who remembers the word "discotheque" is probably too old to be at one. Even if you went to all the trouble to find one. But I don't mind, sometimes it's fun to go back and remember what it was like to survive the '80s. 

     I like to stand back and people-watch at the disco. To me people are the most entertaining things to watch, besides robot battles and conspiracy theorists. I can be amused by the dumbest things. For instance, one guy there had a beard so monstrous that you wouldn't trim it so much as prune it. There was also a girl had a gum wrapper stuck to her shoe, and another girl stepped on it in a chivalrous act that then attached it to her own shoe, and this went on for a while like a disco "Hokey-Pokey." I probably should have thrown out my gum wrapper.

     I like people-watching but I don't want people people-watching me, because it usually means I'm doing something ungainly. For that reason I have a long-standing policy to dance as little as possible. As a public service, I "dance as if no one is watching" only if no one is watching. But every time I hear that Rihanna song where she sings, "We found love in a hopeless place," for some reason I can't stop myself. It has an infectious beat that causes an infection in me even though I have taken the proper precautions, and I shake some body parts to make sure it's not something more serious. Plus I imagine that the hopeless place she's singing about is my garage, which I will get around to cleaning one of these decades. If anyone wants to try and find love there go ahead, but I can't even locate my lawn mower.

     I also like that song where they sing, "If you got a $20 dollar bill put your hands up!" But I'd hate it if I was then actually robbed by the song. Some tunes I can do without, like the one that lists all the vowels, "A-E-I-O-U," I'm not really sure Y. If there's a song that runs through the multiplication tables, I could use some help there.

     Back in the '80s you never had to worry that there might be lasting evidence that you dance as if you're trying to put out a fire that started in your pants and spread to your shoe. But now anyone who has a phone can point it in yor direction and immortalize you on their social media page. There I am in the background, finding out their number and calling them, the fastest way to wrap up production.

     I like watching the individual styles of people on the floor, mostly the guys. It reminds me of intricate mating rituals, like that of the peacock jumping spider, who waves his hands in the air like he's landing a plane on an aircraft carrier, and then displays his colorful "tail." The female is intrigued that he would even attempt to land a fighter jet considering he is the size of a grain of rice. The tail is garish but she mates with him anyway. Then she kills him and eats him, surprised to find that he had good taste after all. It's stories like that which deter me from learning to become a better dancer.

     Many of the real movers and shakers had a signature move. One guy was so fluid it looked like he might not have any bones in his body. I bet you could take him over to the lab, pour him into an Erlenmeyer flask, test his pH with a piece of litmus paper and dump him back out onto the dance floor in time for the next segue. My own signature step was to trip over my pants legs, which were either too long or the floor was too short. I must have done it 10 times, but no one gave any indication that it was a particularly bad move in comparison.

     I also like watching the waitresses, who can carry an empty wine glass using any part of their body. They can deliver a martini to its rightful destination without spilling a drop, in those damn glasses that seem specifically designed to prevent it from happening. If I had to do it, I'd have to ask at the table, "Who ordered the dry martini? Because there's actually nothing left in the glass."

     If I do show up in the background of your facebook video don't be alarmed, the condition is only temporary. But don't share the post with any members of my rock and roll band, in case I'm out there pirouetting to ABBA. I don't want "Dancing Queen" to be my Waterloo.