At the Club

by @zeldacroft

The club lights flashed and waved to the beating music. They washed the dancefloor in neon colors, in time to the heavy vibrations of the giant speakers. Surprisingly, Toby admired the bright lights, how they illuminated the huge space and modern architecture. Though he found himself nursing a headache at the bar.

Jan from accounting had organized the “bonding time” for the office, saying how it’d bring everyone closer together. Toby had been devoid of any good excuse, so now he was stuck between a beer, clubbers, and Jan, with her volume louder than the pounding speakers.

“And so that’s when I said, ‘Kevin, that’s the wrong variable!’” She snorted in laughter at her own joke. Toby managed a smile. “You see, he made a simple mistake!”

“No, I get it. I think Susan’s around here somewhere, she’d appreciate hearing it too.”

“That’s a good idea, but I can tell her on Monday!”

Toby took another drink. He liked Jan well-enough at work, but tonight was proving a little more difficult.

“That does bring up a good point, though. I haven’t seen many people from the office here." Scanning the room, she asked, "Do you think they're stuck in traffic?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Toby answered, knowing full well it was more a case of empty promises. Still, there was something about the disappointment in her eyes that struck him. “But hey, you got some of us here.”

She gave a small smile and looked around again, this time lingering towards the lights.

“Hey, let’s go dance!”

Before Toby could gently protest, she’d swept him onto the floor, beer and all.

The Ballroom, 1978-ish

by @owasco

Edgar wouldn’t be holding a flimsy cup half-filled with an undrinkable drink in this wretched, smelly, ear-splitting cavern if it weren’t for his nephew’s having gotten a job here. The box office was cold, crowded, dirty and sordid. Shuffling among drunkards in close quarters was not Edgar’s idea of desirable social contact. Still, he somehow managed to end up at Denny’s ticket window, and was proud as the dickens as Denny counted out the right change from the five dollar bill Edgar had just handed him. The kid had employment that he could get himself to, follow the rules, collect a paycheck and, best of all, love, something Edgar feared he would never see. Edgar and Denny stood on either side of the thick glass window and beamed at each other stupidly, long enough for the patrons behind Edgar to begin to grumble.

“Have fun Uncle Edgar!”

Edgar made his way into the austere lobby and stood before the wall covered with white-punched-in-black-tape names of all the couples who had married here, Roseland Ballroom. The place was nothing like the elegant club pictured in the treasured photo of his parents dancing on their wedding night in what his mother called "the most romantic place in the world". They had danced that night to the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra. He found his parents' names, Mr. and Mrs. Edgar Viscardo, and for a moment could feel the grandeur of the past.

Now, a massive, rotating, many-mirrored ball hung from the ceiling and a merciless disco beat nearly drove Edgar mad. He would have to endure this squalid place for another hour; it was his turn to help Denny navigate the subway home after work. Someday Denny would do it all on his own.

Edgar positioned himself near another seemingly ill-at-ease man on the periphery of the massive dance floor, and overheard a woman coyly say “That’s a good idea, but I can tell her on Monday!” then pull the man by the elbow into the gyrating bodies on the disco dance floor. Edgar was grateful no one would be doing any such thing to him.

"He looks like a fool out there" Edgar said to his warm drink.

"He sure does, doesn't he?" a petite woman to his right responded cheerfully. She made a "come in!" gesture toward the lobby and eight others, still dressed for the office, boisterously joined her. Edgar stood there uncomfortably while the new group joked about the couple Edgar had just been watching on the dance floor.

"It's about time those two got together!"
"If we hadn't got stuck in traffic they'd still be avoiding each other like they do at the office."
"Toby dances like a baboon!"

The woman offered Edgar her hand. "Elsie Stafford. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Do you come here often?"

Edgar said the easiest thing there was to say in what he would forever more think of as the world's most romantic place.

"Would you like to dance?"

Some of you may remember Edgar and Elsie from a previous WeWrite of mine.
https://steempeak.com/freewritehouse/@owasco/phantom

@carolkean was my partner for that WeWrite. Here's her continuation of my part:
https://steempeak.com/wewrite/@carolkean/phantom-we-write-12-with-owasco

My thanks to @deirdyweirdy for her WeWrite this week which greatly influenced mine:
https://steempeak.com/wewrite/@deirdyweirdy/we-write-14-at-the-club-moonstruck
Which do you think is more corny?

I loved helping my mother punch my name into black tape to make labels for my stuff when I went away to camp. This is how the names of couples who had married at Roseland Ballroom were memorialized in the lobby, on strips of hard black plastic tape with the names punched out in white. I searched and searched for an image of the display case but could not find one. It really existed though, until the day Roseland closed in 2013, a nearly 100 year run. I wonder where all those names went.

Here's a bit of history of the ballroom, that I tried very hard to remain true to, but the details on what exactly went on there between the years of 1950 and 1980 are sketchy. This is the best account of Roseland's history that I could find:
https://web.archive.org/web/20000620211420/http://www.roselandballroom.com/histofroseland.htm

I hope you enjoyed my story! Thank you for reading it!

Poster image: Roseland Ballroom - eBaycard, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=30478888

Street image: William Gottlieb, 1948

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