"Disco Sucks" - But I HAD to Learn to Dance to It

Who can forget the t-shirts with that phrase? Straight and to-the-point. My friends and I hated disco not just because of the music, but for what the whole movement meant to us:

• Clubs playing recorded music. Who the hell paid money to go hear records they could buy or listen to on the radio?
  
• The clothes. We wore t-shirts and jeans in the summer, flannel shirts and jeans in the winter. Disco atire stuck us as not only ugly, but pretentious and almost effeminate.
  
• The Greasers. Those where the guys who were most into disco. You know: foam rubber dice handing from the rear-view mirror, the Fonzie look, the big, noisy cars. Who wanted to hang out with them? And the women? Worse. All named "Adrian." Vain, preoccupied with clothes and makeup, loud and crude.
  

"Wait!, you say." "I was into disco, and I wasn't like that!" Friend, I am sure you were not. But we didn't see people like you where I hung out.

The Problem came in 1976, when I had a summer job with a bunch of people from all over who were very into disco. And most were not fitting the stereotype I described. The message was clear; if I wanted to hang out with these people, especially the women, I was not only going to have to listen to disco, but dance to it. To me "dancing" meant the free-style hopping up and down people did at concerts, or the slow stuff you did with girls at high school dances while the band played "Color My World" and you were wondering how long this would go on before you could either (a) get her to go outside with you, or (b) she would find herself some other victim to dance with.

So, one night I am at a party with these guys, getting really drunk on the sidelines, when Nicki comes over. She won't take no for an answer. No excuses about my bad ankle with her. She dragged me onto the floor and taught me "The Bump." Now, doing "The Bump" with Nicki was nothing like the "Color My World" experience, so I got into it right away. Then she taught me "The Hustle," which I could never get right. All I remember was "left, right, one, two three. Right, left, one, two three;" then trying to twirl her around. We didn't quite do it in synch, but I got to hang out with women like Nicki. The music? Well, I still thought most of it sucked, especially the Bee Gees. But I grew to tollerate some of it.