"I love to watch you dance, Tony."

I'd really like someone to explain the "Disco Sucks" movement in the late 70s. What happened? Why did people become so jaded, so cynical, so eager to kill something so fun and flashy and polyester? It makes me sad. There are many time periods I wished I lived in instead of the one now, but New York (really like Staten Island or Brooklyn to be precise) in the mid 70s would be great. Just a good two years of disco at its heyday is all I need. I can live without the drugs or the sleaziness (well, a little is okay) but I need the feathered hair and the stacked shoes and the off-the-shoulder gauzy gowns. I think the hustle is just amazing. One day I'm going to learn it. Either through YouTube or forcing my mom to recall her glory disco days in Lubbock, Texas.

You know how everyone who was a dork in high school secretly wants to have that scene in a movie where the stage floor empties out (or you're performing in a Neil Simon play or singing an operetta or kicking the winning goal) and you just knock their socks off? My secret fantasy is to perform John Travolta's solo dance in Saturday Night Fever. I'd probably want to wear the same white suit, too. And lots of gold chains. But no hairy chest. Now, I'm not sure if I'd want to perform it at a high school reunion, because I'd like to have people besides my fellow Class of 2003'ers there. I mean, if I'm gonna dance to impress, let's do everyone I've ever met. And I want it to be totally casual and off-the-cuff. Like, oh, there's a light-up floor? Everyone is in a circle? My favorite Bee Gees song just came on? Looks like it's time for me to do a little shoe shufflin'. And then BAM! I blow everyone's minds with my amazing moves. I'll even do the splits. And then at the end I'll just casually dance off and everyone will be rendered speechless. And then cheer and clap and scream my name and carry me on their shoulders and I'll have tears of happiness streaming down my face and then FREEZE FRAME. The End.