Burn Down the Disco by Allan Wilson
It lit up the Glasgow skyline as the last bars of the music played and hundreds of us watched in empathy as this pillar of our youth faded. A lot was lost that night, much more than just the building and the dancefloors and the booze, but romances in blossom and nervous first kisses. The scent of perfume on collars, hot breath on lips. Jealous glances, girls and boys and boys and girls.
I watched you on the dancefloor with a boy. I wanted to be his hands as they slid up and down your petite waist. I longed to be his neck as your warm breath caressed it. Most of all I wanted to be his eyes.
You danced so close and then you danced apart. You moved like an angel with a devil’s smile. I could only imagine the rasp of your laugh and the touch of your tender thigh as you danced to the beat, the beat, the beat of my heart. God It pounded. I was on the balcony overlooking the entire dancefloor and I stood, faux cool, with my friend Craig. We drained sixty pence vodka mixes and watched.
‘Mate...mate...there’s one. Schwing’ He lusted at girl after girl. He poked me, I tried to stay focussed. I wanted you to feel the spark and then, then you looked up and for a second I felt my hands on your waist, your breath teasing my neck, your eyes choosing me and that was it.
You coyly looked away, but then you looked back up and smiled and I laughed cause you’d caught me staring so I hoped you would laugh when I put my hand over my eyes all embarrassed. When I moved it you were still watching me and you were smiling as well. You kept dancing as you watched me, your expression changing from laughter to smirking to coy to sexy. A drill couldn’t have broken my grin when you waved for me to come down.
And then the lights went up and I thought 3am had skipped the queue. I turned to the dancefloor again to look for you but there was some sort of melee and people on the dancefloor weren’t dancing but were running aimlessly. It was as if they’d been born for the dark.
And then it started to rain. The vodka was dancing through, serenading my bloodstream and I didn’t know what was what. I remember hearing boys screaming ‘fire’ and girls opening umbrellas to stop the sprinkler water from curling their hair.
‘Mate, it’s all gone tits up. We’re getting out, they’re evacuating’ I went with Craig and got caught in the current of bodies squeezing and squirming their way down the stairs. I remember looking but I couldn’t see you. There were bodies heaving over bodies and the screams in my ear made me start to realise that something serious was happening.
I was caught in the heaving crowd that huddled together at the joint between Sauchiehall and Pitt Street. I looked as far as I could but you weren’t there. The wind was swirling and the smoke pirouetted down the street bringing the scent of burning night with it. The police moved us all back from the mouth of the scene and we could no longer see the shack, only hear the snap, crackle and last bars of pop. There was a lot of chatter from the crowd, lots of screams and whoops. There was talk of people trapped inside the building and I began to panic thinking it could have been you. I tortured myself with a hundred what ifs. What if I’d come down to speak to you? What if I’d had the courage to say hi? What if I hadn’t had so much to drink? What if you were ash, blowing in the wind?
And then, shivering in a doorway: you. You had a white coat on, thick, like sheepskin. In one of your hands you carried a portfolio case and the boy you were with, he carried one too. In his other hand was another hand. Not a pretty, dainty hand like yours, but a hairy hand. A man’s hand!
It seemed natural, to go and ask if you were alright. It was only when I got within ten feet or so of you, only when you looked straight at me that I realised how weird me talking to you as if I knew you would make me appear. I nearly spun on my heel and turned back into the crowd but I’d lost you once and was loathe to do it again. I took a deep breath. Shuffling my feet, looking away, I approached. You just kept smiling. Your smile so pretty. And it was weird cos we just talked as if the boys weren’t there and I said Hi and you just laughed a little and said Hiya back. I muttered something about wanting to buy you a drink and you poked my ribs saying it was a bit late now. With each word we got closer. There were sirens wailing in the background and the crowds were swelling and yelping so I moved in to hear you and I felt your breath on my neck. You said something and I missed it so I came in really close, my hand falling inside your jacket, brushing against your waist. I still don’t know who moved in first, and you’ll say me though I’m not so sure, but somehow our faces were touching and you laughed, recoiling when my cold nose leant against yours but then you stopped laughing and looked straight at me. And I kissed you. And that was it.
As a fallen pillar of our youth lit up the sky like a thousand shooting stars and our generation surged just feet from us, trotting away one by one, there were two people oblivious to it all, safe in the warmth of each others arms, sharing their first kiss.
