The suburb I live in throws a party in the park near my house every summer, complete with live music, inflatable bouncers, a used book sale, and firefighters selling hot dogs. Tonight was the night, and I loved this event, as I always do, in all its hokey glory.
This year’s party featured a disco revival band. Don’t laugh. They had Boogie Fever, and they were Stayin’ Alive.
The whole neighborhood turned out, including a group of developmentally disabled men who Partied Like It’s 1999. It gave me a sweet community feeling to see those guys out in Funky Town dancing with the boomers, with toddlers and dogs running underfoot. They had Night Fever! And who doesn’t like to bend their arms to make YMCA? Not even a Macho Man.
I brought my girls, of course, because We Are Family. I bought them each an “unlimited ride” wrist band, so they could go down the giant inflatable slide All Night Long. They had to wait a long time to get into the bouncer, though, because the ride operator let the toddlers go first. She was a Super Freak.
Next year I’ll try to remember to bring a lawn chair in which to relax while the kids play, because That’s the Way (Uh Huh Uh Huh) I Like It.
Now get your arms up, people. You KNOW you want to. It’s great exercise–you want to be a Brick House, don’t you? Make those letters like Greased Lightning. And while you’re at it, Play That Funky Music, White Boy.