The dance floor in question looks pretty much just like the one in Saturday Night Fever, but better. It has the plexiglass squares that light up, but they are set in a parquet grid, so the affect is toned down just enough. If you have never danced on such a floor, you owe it to yourself. The lighting affect it creates is so mellow and has so much mood, compared the lazer affects and swirling lights most dance floors feature; even when it is used in combination with those affects, it has a mellowing affect.
But. what's more important about such a dance floor, or at least about the one Bulls' had, is the feel. Because it's made of wood and plexiglass (I presume) set in a wooden frame, it gives, it moves, it dances with you.
Over better than a quarter of a century, Bullwinkles was a mainstay, not only for the gay community in Bloomington, but also for the community as a whole, because it truly was a club where EVERYONE seemed to feel comfortable. It was a place where people came not just to drink and party, though they certainly came for those things, but also to express themselves. So you saw the GLBT crowd there, but you also saw the punks and freaks, goths and artists, grad students and greek society people, whites and blacks and hispanics, university folk and townies, young and old; that's why I said "diversity" bar, rather than 'gay bar", though it certainly was a gay bar and was home to a long and proud tradition of drag shows, up to three nights a week.
The DJ's worked there because they loved the place and loved the music. So did the staff. Everyone felt the sense of community there. In recent years, though, something changed. Maybe it was the new anti-smoking laws in Bloomington. Maybe it was the fact that the place looked shabbier and shabbier. Maybe House music just isn't as popular as it once was. Maybe it was a combination of factors. But the fact is, in recent years, you could sometimes have the dance floor to yourself on a Friday or Saturday night. That was sad for me to see. I remember a time when just getting on the dancefloor took a sense of intuition about the movement of bodies in space and a willingness to suspend claustophobia completely!
The first time I ever went to Bullwinkles, I was dragged by some artsy friends of a friend. We were invited to see the "coolest" club in town. That it was.
I don't really remember the first drag show I ever saw there. But I found it strangely moving. Every drag show I've seen seems to express a longing that can't be put into words, and I'm not necessarily talking about a longing of a man to be a woman, though that often does seem to be involved. but some deeper longing.
Almost religious. Certainly ceremonial.
I'll never forget the first time I ever got on the dance floor. I was such a nondancer and such a terribly shy person, but I was determined to do it, as a challenge. I remember heading towards the dance floor again and again, but each time bouncing off a transparent force field that seemed to surround it! I finally got on the dance floor, maybe for ten seconds. I was no longer a dance floor virgin.
Well, Bullwinkles closed a couple of months ago, after more than a quarter of a century. I keep feeling sad about it. One of the things I most like to do is to think back on all the different ways that people had of moving to music. I always tried to learn from other dancers, but in the end, each person's body and way of moving is so unique. Some people were trained ballet dancers, and could control their bodies to perfection. Others had repertoires of gesture. One guy whirled and whirled with tremendous violence, yet you never felt like he might hit you or smack into you. There were a thousand variations on the techno shuffle! I loved to watch one gal who really never did much more than shift back and forth from foot to foot, but with such expressive upper body movements that it was always like you cold see her soul in the movements of her arms and the angle of her head. One really tall lady loved to stand in the middle of the dance floor, hardly moving in time to the music, but making the most dramatic Modern Dance gestures.
The thing about a great dance club, is that the DJ and the people on the dance floor are a team. They are an organism.
My most memorable dancefloor moment was one of my earliest. I was, as I said, terribly shy, and would stand at the back of the dance floor, hiding behind the people, barely moving. It was all I could bring myself to do. One night, as I was doing this, I was taken by surprise when the music began to transition from one song to another, and all at once EVERYONE left the dancefloor. I was literally alone on the dancefloor - petrified. But I decided not to flee. I decided to stick it out.
And when the vocal started to filter in, I almost cried. It was "You're Not Alone", by Olive.
That's right. We aren't alone. Music is one of the best ways we have to remind ourselves of that.
Comments are closed on this story.