Joneee, Mis-tique and the Magical Merlot

“Take us uptown.”

We told the taxi driver to take us from our Atlantic City hotel jobs to a low slung building that hugged the earth like a crab. We had to get out of there. I could feel the heartbeat of the music as we pulled up, “boom, ta-boom, boom, boom, ta-boom.” It ripped through my body and triggered that all too familiar, dangerous anticipation.

Once inside the disco I asked Mis-Tique what she wanted to drink.

“Buca,” she answered. That summer we had become big fans of Sambuca and drank it as though the world was on the imminent verge of a buca shortage .

We moved to the dance floor and joined the gyrating crowd. The year was 1978 and everyone was decked to the nines in flowing dresses and leisure suits. Mis-Tique was sporting a sequined mini dress of rainbow colors that shimmered like a rack of diamonds under the moving lights.

We worshiped weekly at this Saturday night disco church until dawn and around 6AM that particular night Mis-Tique asked me if I wanted another and suggested that we try something altogether different.

“Joneee, let’s go to the bar and have some wine.” I had never really drunk much wine so we swaggered up to the bar and asked the bartender to see the wine list. “Wine list?” he queried as he glared at us. “Look, we have the house red and house white.” He looked in disbelief at us, implying that is was crazy for someone to even ask such a question in a place like this and I blurted out, “We’ll have 2 glasses of the red.” We hovered by the bar and drank this incredible red liquid which traveled instantly all over my body and brain, melted my core and offered me the most pleasant buzz I had ever had. The sun was starting to stream through the small skylight in the corner of the disco. We called this our disco clock since, once inside, we lost all sense of time and space and since Atlantic City was a 24/7 around the clock party town, we could have easily lost track of our lives as well.

I had one more sip and as I turned toward the dance floor I smelled a slight salty breeze when a funnel of mist shot downwards through the open skylight towards the floor, smashed into the earth and revealed the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was dressed from head to toe in white and danced ecstatically to the pounding beat. I raced over to her, began to speak but she held her finger to my lips to silence me.

We danced together for what seemed an hour or so when I asked “What’s your name?” She replied, “Leena Del Tinto.” I started to ask another question, turned to put my glass of Merlot on the table next to me, but when I turned back she had disappeared. She left behind one white sequined glove which was illuminated by the now brilliant daylight sun as the funnel of mist rose up to meet the now brilliant sunrays.

“Did you see that?” I asked Mis-Tique.

“If you mean your one hour solo dance, yes, that I did see.”

I wasn’t alone, I insisted, there was a beautiful woman dancing with me. Mis-tique wouldn’t have any of it. She said that I was probably a little drunk and that it was time to go.

We left.

Our weekly Saturday disco rituals continued and we ended each outing with Merlot which by now had become our favorite libation. Mis-Tique started to call it “Magical Merlot” because it made me see things, or so she said. I had given up trying to convince her of what I really had seen and hid my disappointment. I had even shown her that white glove.

“Lots of girls wear those,” she replied. It is a disco, after all.

After another month of Saturdays I started to believe that maybe she had been right when some six weeks later, we were having that final glass of Merlot as the early sun streamed in through the tiny skylight. I turned to Mis-Tique and was almost socked in the face by the most incredible salt and mist vapor, turned and again saw Leena dancing and shimmering under the skylight. I raced over, my Merlot in hand and started to dance. At first she didn’t notice me but slowly our bodies began to sync up and we spun around each other, whirling very close but never touching.

“I love to love you baby…” the music wailed.

“Can we meet for a date?” I asked, and she again held her finger to my lips. I noticed that she was gesturing in the direction of the ocean, turned to see what she had been looking at and when I turned back she was gone. There was another white glove on the ground. I turned to pick it up and heard whispers traveling along the mist.

“Joneee, meet me at the Steel Pier Ballroom next Saturday night, 6AM.”

I said nothing to Mis-Tique about what had happened and when she asked about our next disco outing I told her that I couldn’t make it as I had a family matter to attend to,

The next Saturday I took the day off from work so I could get some rest. At 5AM I dressed, made my way to the pier and trekked the long distance to the ballroom past decayed storefronts which alluded to the glorious past of this once premier beach resort. Waves crashed mercilessly against the pilings and pounded out a rhythm similar to that of the approaching Ballroom dance floor.

The club was packed and immediately I ordered a glass of wine. It helped me to relax as I waited. Six, Six-Thirty, Seven. No Leena. To say that I was devastated would be an understatement. I was starting to feel that I had been stood up by the most beautiful woman I had ever seen and turned to leave.

On my way towards the door I was blasted backwards into the disco by a column of air that rushed through the open windows. At the instant a massive wave crashed over the pier and soaked everyone. The water and mist mixed with the early daylight and made it hard to see and the wind left me disoriented and unsteady.

The crowd roared to the increasingly deafening disco beat as the ocean churned and wave after wave began to crash against the pier. Then there was a thunderous BANG and a vapor cloud shot down from the sky and created a dazzling diamond - like pattern on the dance floor. It started to zigzag upwards to the geodesic dome and rushed left, right, down and up like some sort of maniacal laser. It pointed in my direction and shot directly into my face, temporarily blinding me. When I opened opened my eyes Leena was there.

I was breathless and started to move my lips to form the first words that came into my mind, “you - are -late,” but before my lips could move she pulled me towards her body and we began to dance across the floor, up the walls and onto the ceiling as the crowd chanted a frenzied “Leena, Leena, Leena.” She looked me in the eyes and pulled me closer and closer. By this time we were frozen in the upper space of the Ballroom and when she released her grasp I was propelled downwards through the air into the waiting and willing arms of the crowd.

At 10AM the party was still in full swing and every dancer in sync with the other. We had become one holy dancing mound, beholden to the undulating beat, when a even more massive wave hit the pier and shook it to its core. It rattled the base of the pier so violently that Leena lost her balance and started to wobble closer to to the back edge, and edge which dangled perilously over the thrashing ocean. I panicked and raced over to catch her, reached out for her arm and shouted “Leena!” when a superhuman counter force yanked my other arm, whipped me around and threw me back into the frenzied crowd.

The middle of the dance dome began to split open to reveal the glory of the rising sun as the salt and mist vapor raced back into the sky, creating a tornado funnel that pulled us all off the ground a foot or so. The funnel then retreated and we were dropped back down to the floor and watched as the whisper of mist darted back to the far horizon, down to the sea and back up to the clouds. The resulting effect was blinding and caused us all to shield our eyes. I ran once more to the edge. As I reached the end of the pier the ocean instantly calmed, the mist faded and I inhaled the dissipating salty air and heard once again those faint whispers.

“Te quiero Joneee.”

“I love you Joneee”