|Disco Retro Night at Oil Can Harry's last night|
We almost didn't go out last night because Pat was exhausted from the long day we already had. He said he's only averaged six hours of sleep a night since we left for our California Dream. But you know me, when I'm pumped I can go on for days and weeks.
So I drug Pat out of his deep stupor of a nap. Poor Pat. Raining outside, pooped and exhausted. But yes, I did it. "Oil Can Harry's" (don't you just love that name?) was only 5.2 miles from where we're staying. I just couldn't see passing up an opportunity to partake in a little teeny bit of West Hollywood gay nightlife, especially a 70's disco retro night!
Out into the night we go, on rain soaked roads to God knows where? I have my iPhone GPS, with the address of "Oil Can Harry's" logged in, and we pull out of our safe and comfy bed and breakfast room to see what the night reveals.
Even though the distance was only a little over 5 miles, half the distance I drive to Rehoboth Beach, the drive seemed much longer because of the rain, the darkness of the night and the hilly, twisty, unfamiliar Laurel Canyon road. Actually we went over the Hollywood Hills behind us drove to the other side of the hills (I think).
We finally get there. I thought we were early (9:30 PM) but the parking lot was full. Only one space available which Pat quickly took possession of. That Pat, he is some driver.
We get out of our rental car and walk in the rain to building housing Oil Can and strains of "Bad Girl" by Donna Summer beckoning us for a trip back to the glorious past of Disco Queens.
I pay the cover charge of $5.00 each and enter the multi colored light inner sanctum of a recreated disco heaven. Disco!
The bouncer informs me that drinks are 1/2 off until 10. I saddle up to the bar and order a margarita (no comments please). $3.50. Not bad. Not a bad margarita either.
Pat didn't want a drink. He secures a place for himself at the side of the dance floor. I get my drink (very tasty by the way, I know I'm going to get a buzz on tonight) and scan the dance floor. A 30 something, muscular, slim Hispanic man locks eyes with me. He smiles. He approaches me. He introduces himself in heavily accented English as "Martine". I have to ask him several times what he name was because the loudness of the disco sounds were drowning him out.
"Martine" asks me if I wanted to dance. I wasn't buzzed enough so I suggested he dance with "my boyfriend" Pat. Martine looks a little puzzled but then asks Pat. I didn't take me too long to realize that Martine was interested in more than dancing. I wasn't . . . . . with anyone. Those days are long passed for me Virginia. Long gone. I still enjoy good disco music but all the rest? Sorry folks or as Bugs Bunny says "That's all folks!" I felt sorry for Martine but who knows, maybe I was the new face. I bet if he knew I was 73 years old he would have ran out the back door.
But folks, I haven't got to the best part of last night yet. That first margarita buzzed me. I had a second. Then I was ready to dance! My best "Elaine" (see the hilarious "Seinfeld" episode where Elaine attempts to get everyone out on the dance floor by starting to make "the moves" herself - that's me folks only I do "The Elaine" much better, just ask Pat).
So I'm out on the dance floor, doing my Johnn Travolta"Saturday Night Fever", "Staying Alive" dance steps under the disco ball and flashing colored lights and I FALL! YES FOLKS, I fell flat on my back!
There was a big "OHHHHH!" from half the dancers on the floor as Martine reached for my hand to pull me up. Embarrassed? I was past embarrassed folks. PAST IT! But I thought, "Well, at least Pat got it on video."
But when I got back to Pat where he was leaning on one of the support beams, I found out he wasn't taking my video. Yes folks, he took some videos but missed the You Tube one of my sprawled out on my back on the disco dance floor with the mirrored disco ball flashing those silver lights on my mortified face and old, OLD body. What a missed opportunity.
When I got up and was helped back to the side of the dance floor (or "escorted off the dance floor" - after all what's a 73 year old has-been doing on the dance floor?)
To sum up folks, we had a GREAT NIGHT. Disco, just like the old times I remember. "Funky Town" and ABBA!
Pat just came back, time for lunch at a new vegan eatery he just found. I wonder if we can do more disco before he leave Hollywoodland,