October 1st, 2009
It’s a good thing that I wasn’t a young adult living in New York in the early 80’s because I’m pretty certain that I would have had feathered hair and a major coke addiction. Ahhh…. dissenters see three decades ago as the birth of Reaganomics, the beginning of the decade of greed and an unwelcome intro to burgeoning yuppies. But for me, as a youngish child during this time in history, my memories are much lighter.
Let’s look specifically at 1982. That was a very special year for me. I was seven years old and won the tallest trophy(that was almost bigger than I was) at the Starmount Country Club swim team awards ceremony. I earned it for having the “best attitude”. My brother won the second biggest trophy..for well, just being the best.
In my case, innocence and youth persevered during the early 80’s. Let’s make a complete 180 and go down a hypothetical day of me being a hot young hot woman living in the big city in 1982. My day begins with my clock radio blasting Survivor'‘s “Eye Of The Tiger”. I hit the device several times, get myself into an over steamed shower where I stand hunchbacked with my eyes closed, insert my shoulder pads into my “smart female in the workplace” suit and drink a black cup of coffee(standing up) as I peruse the entertainment section of the newspaper. I see that Michael Jackson just released his second album, “Thriller”. Follow-up albums never outdo the debut album.
On my way to work, I walk through the crowded streets with the Go Go’s “We Got the Beat” playing in the backdrop. Where is the music coming from? Doesn’t matter. I’m glad I don’t have a car because I’m in no position to pay the hefty gas price of 91 cents per gallon. I show up at my dead end secretary job where my boss is a sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot. At lunch, I go with two other female coworkers to buy some rope. After seeing “9 to 5” two years ago, we have a little plan for the bastard.
I get home, put on an electric colored leotard and insert my Jane Fonda jazzercise tape into the Beta Max. I don’t work out. I just watch it while I get coked up and drink a Tab. I remain wired in front of the TV. This new NBC anchor, Tom Brokaw says that Ozzy Osbourne bit the head off a bat at a Des Moines concert. I do some more drugs and a sudden burst of euphoria kicks in as I begin manically vacuuming as “Wheel of Fortune Comes on”. Some “starlet” named Vanna White just replaced Susan Stafford as the letter turner. Like she’s gonna last. Just like the limited future for that new Broadway show that I saw last night, “Cats”. Dancing and singing kitties..please. Like that will be around now or forever. My shag carpet, windows and creases between my bathroom tiles are spotless. I’m ready for some primetime TV shows. I have a lot to choose from because I have three channels. I bypass T.J. Hooker , Knight Rider and Fame because singer Jermaine Jackson is guest-starring as Tootie’s idol on a very special “Facts of Life”.
The night is still young and I want to go discothèque-ing at Studio 54 . I doll up in my finest Madonna “street urchin" best that includes short skirt over leggings, rubber bracelets, and fishnet gloves. I arrive and immediately see a Tom Selleck lookalike in a pinstripe suit that I must get to know. Our eyes meet and we saunter towards each other as The Clash’s “Rock The Casbah” blasts. He asks me if I’d like to see “Porky's”. I’m not sure if he means the newly released movie or if it’s sexual innuendo. Either way, we go to the bathroom to get high. The next few hours are a blur but I seek solace that what I don’t remember can never hurt me. I’m not really sure how it happened..but I did make it home and my 23 hour day had come to an end.
Cut to an hour later. I violently hit the alarm clock and feather haired Jax repeats cycle.