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by Prier
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Experience · #1279183
Thoughts on New Years Eve 1987
1987 - The last thirty-five minutes

         Big George Collier and his band blasted out nostalgic tunes. Smoke filled the room. We are all crowded on to a tiny square of polished hardwood. Finally, the dance floor cleared a little as a variation in the music style provided a cue for some of us to retreat to our seats. One or two other unremarkable songs in the final set of 1987 passed by.

         "Only thirty-five minutes left," someone yelled and then the band began its version of "That Lovin' Feeling." I asked Robbie to spend the rest of the year dancing with me. She skeptically agreed and we moved to the crowded dance floor.

         A giant mirror along one wall reflected reality but provided the illusion of greater size.

         It was a good dance. Robbie is so pretty. I wonder what she sees in me, I must be okay or she wouldn't... I felt a bump, squish, and push as some fool tried to get the whole dance floor by knocking everyone else off with their big buns.

         The colored lights around the bandstand blinked in perfect sequence. I wondered if they were just Christmas lights or part of the band's engineered lighting.

         Big George sure is tall... what does an earring in a man's right ear mean? I'm sure not going to ask him. He's a little cross-eyed or something - sure has a good singing voice.

         "Under The Boardwalk" sounded good. I think we were in Memphis then. I don't think I've ever been under a boardwalk. Robbie sure does this well, wish we had more room we'd really show'em how.

         A woman dressed in white was watching herself in the mirror. I couldn’t believe it; she didn’t even know anyone else was there. She was in love with herself in the mirror. Some twit in a red tie is looking at her; he's not with her is he? Dang! That's me. I feel so silly. I don't think anyone saw me. Hmmm... I see what she means. I don't look so bad. Maybe if I could lose a little of that paunch… o’ well maybe someday.

         "Up On the Roof" suddenly began playing. How did they do that? The song was different without stopping or starting. I think that’s what they call "Beach Music." Wonder whoever thought of eating a raw oyster for the first time? Had to be someone who spent a lot of time at the beach. It was probably just a joke. Suddenly we were back to "Under the Boardwalk" I didn't even hear it change. Whatever happened to Loretta Bowman?

         The Song was over, about twelve minutes to go in the year.

         I didn’t know the next song. Robbie didn’t either. I could tell by the way she looked at me. It had a nice beat, maybe a little fast and jerky. I probably looked so silly. I couldn’t see the mirror. Hope I don't have a heart attack or some kind of medical fit, everyone would just think I was dancing.

         "Are you all right?" Robbie asked.

         "I'm fine."

         Robbie would know if I was having a fit. Or... she would have before I told her I was fine. Shouldn't have answered her. Sure is a long song. Why did she ask me if I was all right?

         "My Girl,” that's better. I hoped it was the last piece so they wouldn’t play another silly song.

         Song ended. "Fifty seconds to go,” someone in the band yelled over the speakers.

         They can't play another song, can they? There's not enough time. Just stand here and hold Robbie close. Count down's starting. Did they say fifty seconds of fifteen seconds? Can't tell. Just watch everyone else. This silly hat doesn't fit.

         "Five... Four,” the group shouts.

         Must have been fifteen seconds. Hope I don't cry when they play "Auld Lang Syne."

         “Three ...Two... One.” Sheeesh! Sniff Sniff...

Happy New Year!
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