Posted by Annamarie on 4/22/2009 from 24.0.101.130:OK, Matty always has a good story to tell. I don't have a specific story, but a memory of the Loreto dances.
I lived for the dances. Ok, I confess it is true. When I think back to that strange smelling bathroom that had the aroma of oil-based paint that never dried mixed with that throw-up powder, it is a wonder that we girls didn't suffocate in there. No ventilation. One jam-packed exit. Two toilets, with one usually out of service. Let's not forget the mildewy/moldy smelling mop closet across the hall. The boys got lucky there. That alone would probably make my kids never return, but I did. Week after week.
The hall wasn't big or well designed unless a rectangle is your favorite shape. The pre-poured flat sodas for 50cents would never pass any soccer-mom standards for safety. The sodas did make the linoleum floor nice and slippery when they spilled. Always an interesting turn of events in a dark, teen-filled room.
Maybe it was the disco ball. I'll never know really because in the daylight with the Seniors playing cards and Mr. Caporelli smoking his cigar the magic wasn't there. On Saturday nights though, some kids might remember, there really was magic.
I was so enthalled with the dances that even after I would ask a boy to dance (because they never asked me) and I mustered up the courage to say "Do you wanna dance?" they would say "Yeah, but not with you," and walk away.
So folks, here it is. The confession of a bona fide nerd. But guess what? I didn't care then and I still don't because if I had the chance to do it again, I would not hesitate a minute. What a blast!
Thanks to Fr. Tab, Mr. Mansi, Hank Salvato, Mike Doughty and probably a dozen others whose names I didn't know or can't remember.
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