That hat, or the girl with that hat, is what one remembers. How she spun it around on her finger like a circus act, and your eye would follow its turning until it dissolved into the light show and the beat of the music and all this together was that good kind of dizzy.
Arms and legs and that hat – from a distance it all could look like one animal, pushing in a hundred different directions, but in rhythm. That boom boom boom that moved us all. The D.J. is king for a set or two, a few hours at least before the hats go back in the closet, the animal breaks off into separate lives, and daylight comes.
The break in the neon darkness saved many lives; still, all that everyone wanted was another night.