"I come home in the mornin' light,
Mother says, 'When you gonna live your life right?'
Oh mama dear, we're not the fortunate ones
and girls, they wanna have fun ..." Cyndi Lauper, Girls Just Want to have Fun
Everyone dances better in a strobe light; FACT. I don't care if you're the most uncoordinated, blundering, bumbling excuse for a person ever. When the lights start flickering at 100 frames per second the most abysmal moves become strokes of pure genius. It's simple. Sway and sway and sway ... then snap! The Running Man? The Roger Rabbit? The Lawn Mower? Check, check annnnd check. Even the Charleston looks professional grade with the right blink of an eye. At Ladies' 80s you can check your dignity at the door because you have to boogie all-night long and the only rule is everyone dances.
Not that I don't like to dance; In fact it's quite the opposite. I'm not usually self-conscious either. However, making an ass of yourself in front of hundreds of strangers to music that was popular a generation before ones time can make things awkward for anyone. Good thing other then the strobes it's too dark for facial recognition. Anonymity breeds confidence and alcohol release inhibitions; the perfect combination for any dance party. Besides if we can't laugh at ourselves what the fuck are we doing with our lives?
On this night I'd be laughing with my roommate Tony, Janis and Shea. The girls, who I always seem to have a smashing good time with (see this post), had invited us to drink and dance the night away. Tony isn't usually into leaving his comfort zone of marijuana, video games and sports bars but the only reason he agreed to come was because he hadn't gotten laid in awhile I promised to pay his cover. The chances of us bedding some tail were pretty good considering girls got in for free all-night long. We'd both heard about Skully's sponsoring the dance-party every Thursday night but this would be the first time going for both of us.
After a couple social beers and ripping three shots of whiskey we felt properly pre-gamed and walked the block and a half from our apartment to Skully's. The line was long but not insurmountable. Apparently this was a bigger deal then we knew. Some of the college aged kids were dressed in obvious 80s costumes: acid washed jean jackets, brightly colored spandex, huge blond wigs, Cyndie Lauper ruse and eye-shadow, Pat Benatar head/wrist bands. Well, some of them were wearing costumes. After some inspection I noticed the rest were just sheep in the hipster/80s revival flock. They dressed like that everyday. On purpose. The irony was in trying to tell them apart.
The inside of the bar looked like the cast party from Fast Times at Ridgemont High. We ordered at the bar with Men at Work's You Can Dance if You want To playing louder then seemed necessary ... an omen of things to come. We talked about the finer points of Steven Baldwin's acting in Bio-Dome (which featured said song) and sipped our long-necks. Even on discount AND in a bottle PBR tastes like piss. Try if you must, but no one will ever convince me otherwise.
Before long the girls had joined us and we began the customary catching up. Work had been busy for me so it'd been awhile since I'd seen either of them. Tony hadn't seen them in even longer; at a party we threw for New Years Eve. For all four of us no new news was good news. To celebrate the rare chance we all had a night off together Janis order a round of Rumplemintz, her latest obsession. We clinked glasses and drank down the minty death swill. It tasted like I'd swallowed mouthwash and everything I ingested for the rest of the night had a spearmint tinge. In terms of the PBRs taste and the burps that inevitably follow, it was an improvement.
"Oh I love this song!" Shea said as the familiar drum beat to Michale Jackson's Billie Jean coursed through the speakers. "Let's go dance!" She said grabbing our hands.
Snaking our way through the crowd gathered at the back of the building we found a spot by the stage and claimed it as our own. Grabbing my crotch, shuffling backward in an attempt at the moonwalk, I did my best MJ imitation. The others followed suit. By the end of the song we found we were all getting into the flow of things. The unseen DJ went right into Duran, Duran's Hungry Like the Wolf and we all sang along to the "do, do, do, do, do, do" part at the top of our lungs, swaying to the beat and bopping in the colored lights.
On the stage, which was open to whoever was brave enough to climb up, well matched couples did their best 80's moves to the rhythm. One middle-aged man with a slight pudge was all by himself in the corner, stepping side to side and gesturing grandly with his arms below his waste. His manner and build was very Boy George and I imagined that was how they'd both danced two and a half decades ago when I was still in diapers.
After a break for beers we hit the floor again for The Groove is in The Heart which is technically the 90s but no one was that worried about it. I took a look around to size up the crowd of mostly women. Some looked like they belonged in a Breakfast Club twenty year reunion but the vast majority were our age or younger. I liked the mix of people. Everyone seemed to be vibing well despite the age disparities. We were all there for fun, drinks and of course great music.
Violent Femmes Blister in the Sun was next and it was a huge crowd favorite. People were singing along to the well know chorus louder then the speakers. During the quite part of the song people squatted down, closer and closer to floor before erupting to their feet when the hook came back around, similarly to how people dance at weddings to the song Shout. By now I was sweating profusely but no one seemed to want to take a break, so I excused myself for a minute and stepped outside. As I light up my cigarette on the patio the cool spring air began drying the perspiration on my neck and face. I took a look around. I could smell reefer burning with Rick James' Mary Jane playing in the background from inside the bar. Quit appropriate.
"Jacob?" a woman's voice asked from behind me. "It's me, Stephanie." she said even though I'd recognized her right away.
"Oh yea!" I replied, feigning surprise. "I hardly could tell it was you. Your hair is completely differently. How have been?" I asked as she leaned in for the one-armed hug of quasi friendships.
We had worked together at the Country Club I was still toiling away at. She was lucky to get out when she did. I gave her the run down on things since she had left. Not much had changed but she had. Her blond hair was now brown and cut in Karen O like baby-doll bangs. Normally this look does nothing for me but the straight lines of her hair helped frame her long and thin face, accentuated it and flattering the fact she was thin. So thin in fact her unspoken nickname at work had been Bones. Despite her slightness I'd always found her attractive. Petite girls turn me on for reasons I can't begin to explain in short detail. Even though she was married she'd always hinted at the fact that it was just a formality; she could be down for whatever given the right set of circumstances.
Well read and also quit the free spirit, she had always been someone I wanted to hang out with out side work but never gotten the chance to. Here black cotton jumper exposed her half sleeve tattoos she'd always kept hidden on the job. I'd known she had them and seen pictures but tonight was the first time I saw them presented in their full blazing glory and I took the time to admire/study them while she chit-chatted incessantly about their various meanings. She was speaking very rapidly, even for her (she had always been a fast talker). Before I could even ask any questions she hit me with it ...
"You like to party right?"
"Sure," I said. "I've been know to party."
"Follow me," she she said as she took me by the hand.
I was led to the girls restroom outside where the line was very long. With out flinching she pushed to the front, her narrow frame slicing through the crowd easily; my bigger bulky frame bumping people out of the way clumsily in her wake.
"So sorry," I said before anyone could protest. "She really has to go."
We were catching very dirty looks but Stephanie didn't notice or just plain didn't care. We found a stall that had just emptied and closed the door behind us. Before I could think of something clever to say she had already taken out a full gram bag of cocaine and prepared a key bump. She huffed the mound in one quick, mighty inhalation that said 'I've done this quit a few times before'. Now I know why she seemed so chatty on the patio a few minutes before ... and for that matter, how she stayed so thin. She loaded one for me and I took it with out hesitation, knowing it's rude to refuse drugs when offered, because drugs are expensive.
"Why thank you," I said after tooting the white powder up my nose.
For my money, cocaine is best when offered for free or when just throwing in a little dough with a group of friends for a wild night out. The number one reason I don't fuck with it much is it's incredibly expensive. Another reason I rarely do it, and even more rarely buy it, is because the high's so fleeting. It's good ... but only for about twenty minutes a rip and as soon as the affects are gone you want more like a drowning man wants oxygen. Everyone's high school health teacher was right; cocaine can be very addictive. And then there are the hang overs ...
Like I said, I'm far from a coke-head but I've dabbled. It wasn't the best I'd ever had but it was good enough. Immediately I felt the half of my face housing the tainted nostril going numb. My eyes watered. The familiar euphoria and sense of invincibility flooded my mind. She did another and so did I, this time in the opposite nostril to level things out. Now my entire face was numb and and I began to tap my foot to the melodic keyboards of The Eurythmics Sweet Dreams two paces too fast. We each licked our fingers and did gummies just to be sure we'd had enough. God Damn! I felt like a million bucks!
The short high was soon peaked. I started to desire her lustfully and uncontrollably despite the ring on her finger. Why had she dragged me in here? She must be trying to indirectly tell me something. Just as I felt the urge to steal a kiss (thanks to my cocaine acquired superhuman confidence) she had opened the stall door and I was following her to the dancefloor. Once I found my friends I'd lost track of her. Janis and Shea were dancing together and Tony had a curvy young thing grinding against his crotch to the beat of De La Soul's Me, Myself and I. Since they were all busy I wondered to the bar for a round beers.
Before I could pay the intro to Madonna's Like a Prayer sounded and the 75% female crowd erupted with a uniform shriek. I rushed back, trying to get to my friends before it was too late. Simultaneously the hordes rushed to the floor, filling it to capacity. I could see Tony and his new friend were still going strong, making out intensely now. I saw the tops of the girls' heads bouncing around. It was too congested to reach them so I just busted my moves where I was. All the women who weren't dancing with a date seemed too engrossed in the song to give a damn about me. My chances of finding love for the night were not looking good.
The DJ, all-knowing but never seen, wisely slowed things down next with The Cure's Just Like Heaven and everyone seemed to wind down. I caught up with Janis and Shea on their way to the bathroom, leaving Tony with his nameless girl. The three of us did one more shot of Rumplemintz and the combination of the cocaine drip and the peppermint almost made me throw up but I was able to choke it all back. I scanned the room, looking for a helpless victim to claim as my own before last call but the crowd had thinned and none of the stragglers grabbed my attention.
Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers' American Girl was next and The Girls and me continued the dance marathon. Tony had disappear with his trophy. Least one of us would get laid. Despite scoring free drugs it did not appear I'd be scoring any ass. This didn't mean I'd given up. In the corner of the room, near the patio doors, I saw Stephanie and started to make my way towards her. Maybe I still had a chance with her or at least she might want to do more coke. I'd already come down completely and was starting to feel a little shitty.
Before I had reached her I noticed she was talking to another women so closely their faces were nearly touching. At first i thought it was because the music was so loud but a second later they were fiercely jabbing their tongues into each others mouths and from the looks of it they would be doing much more then that once the bar closed. This didn't shock me really. It was the Short North; there were gays and lesbians everywhere. I'd lived in this neighborhood for years so I knew to expect it. The surprising part was her mentioned marriage to a man. I guess I'd kind of peg her right, she was down to cheat; just not with men. Well what her husband didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Only an hour ago I'd thought about trying to make a move myself. Maybe he was cool with it as long as it was just girls. Either way I didn't know him well enough to really care.
I retreated back to Janis and Shea just in time for the last song of the night, The Beastie Boys No Sleep Till Brooklyn which brought the house down. Quit drunk and a little tweaked from the coke, I was also not ready for sleep anytime soon so I walked the girls home and continued the dance party at their place until dawn when things finally wore off and I crashed on the couch. The next day Tony appreciate me continuing my bender because he did indeed get lucky. Having the entire apartment to himself had helped him in his endeavors. Despite one of us leaving empty handed it was now established the potential for a casual hook-up was there and we both agreed we'd be back to Ladies' 80's sooner than later.
-J.R.
