I was a Limelight Twinkie. At least that’s what one of the regulars there told me. He said that the Limelight solo dancers were nicknamed “Twinkies” — maybe as a shortened version of Twinkletoes.
There were quite a few of us. Pardon me if I don’t remember the girls, but I do remember two of the guys. One was a dark haired Latino fellow who always wore black leather with buckles and straps. He danced solo down on the main dance floor. Another was an Asian jazz dancer with layered, shoulder length hair, who usually wore a white suit. He danced up on one of the speakers, and he was my favorite to watch. It amazed me the moves you could pull off dancing in one place.
Needing a lot more space than a speaker offered, I stayed down on the dance floor, which was stainless steel and slippery as hell. It took a bit of practice to get the hang of dancing on it, especially after an initial hard landing on the rump.
They called Limelight The Studio 54 of the South, with its grand staircase that led down to a glass dance floor, over a live fish tank with sand sharks swimming inside. Apparently the sharks weren’t there for long, and neither was the live black leopard. I didn’t see the sharks or leopard, the dance floor having changed by the time I discovered what became my favorite discotheque of all time.
Thousands of flashing and moving and strobing lights, and even occasionally smoke blown in, turned the dance floor into a fantasy world of dancers. Sometimes confetti showered you from the heavens up beyond the lights, and always the mirrored disco ball turned, multiplying the lights a thousandfold. For us Twinkies, nothing existed beyond the edge of the dance floor.
It was the biggest dance floor I’d ever experienced, with giant speakers on each side that some of the Twinkies danced on. Us Twinkies provided free entertainment for the crowd, and for the Limelight club itself. Before the Twinkies, they actually paid scantily clad hotties to dance in cages suspended from the ceiling. When the club changed management, the paid dancers and cages were out, and the Twinkies were in. We got in free most of the time, bypassing the $5 cover charge. They’d hand out get-in-for-free cards, and sometimes even a permanent membership card, both of which I had (and still do!)
Limelight Atlanta was The Place to Be, and if celebrities came through Atlanta, that’s where they hung out. Farrah Fawcett, Andy Warhol, Rod Stewart, Burt Reynolds, Tina Turner, Neil Simon, Tom Cruise, Ali McGraw, Blondie (Debbie Harry), Rick Springfield, Madonna, and David Hasselhoff were among them. I personally saw David Hasselhoff, who danced in the center of three women. The Limelight staff told me that the women were his bodyguards.
Three disc jockeys rotated shifts: Randy Easterling, Noel Aguirre, and a third DJ whose name I don’t remember since he was never there when I was, but I think his name was Tito. My favorite was always Noel, who played the best mix of music to get my feet tapping the floor.
I didn’t start out as a solo dancer, it happened when a killer song came on and nobody asked me to dance. Whenever a boring song played, there they were, all the men tugging at my sleeve, “Wanna dance?” But the minute a hot song played and I had to sit through it just dying to dance, I thought, “To hell with you guys if you won’t dance to the good songs!”
I’d been watching the Twinkies dance, oblivious to dance partners, lost in the joy of the music, and so I became one of them. It was better that way. I wasn’t there to get picked up, and if a guy asked you to dance, what he really wanted to do was get all slinky with you and crowd you so that you couldn’t dance. The Twinkies had been there — they knew.
The other downside of accepting a dance invitation was that the guy then acted like he was on a date with you, and stuck to you like flypaper, angling for goodies. That gets really old when all you want to do is dance, and he’s keeping you from it.
And then there was the small talk. Guys don’t get it. When you go out to dance, the last thing you want to think about is going to work on Monday, or any other mundane aspect of life. And what’s the first thing a guy asks a strange girl? “What do you do? Where do you work?”
Once I became a Twinkie, my world was free as long as I was on the dance floor. People didn’t exist except to know where they were to avoid collisions. I was the song personified.
Becoming the song was so intense that people thought I was on drugs, but I wasn’t. Absolutely no drugs, and at most, I drank three drinks for the course of the entire night, but more often it was only two, and most of that got burnt off on the dance floor.
If you read old news stories about the Limelight, they all focus on the wild side of drugs, and public sex, and the sharks and leopard. They talk about the owner and his nefarious connections and legal troubles. I never saw any of that in the two years I danced there.
Two years, every week, usually on Sunday, there I was, and the staff called me Sunday Girl. Sometimes I went on Tuesday or Thursday as well, but never on the busy weekend nights when the dance floor was jam packed. I was a regular, and I did not see what the news stories described. Maybe it was rare, but big enough to make the news. Maybe you only see what you’re looking to see. I don’t know.
Being a girl solo dancer had a weird side effect. Girls figured that if I wasn’t dancing with a guy, maybe I swang the other way, and they’d start hitting on me. I embarrassed one poor girl. She made the mistake of hitting on me out on the dance floor, in front of the whole world, rather than asking me beforehand. She got the same treatment as the guys who tried it — blatantly rejected right out there for all the world to see.
What tortured those of us who loved the Limelight was trying to listen to a radio station any other time. None of them even came close to playing the high energy disco music that Limelight was known for. Radio stations were so tame, throwing you a good song maybe once every couple hours. We didn’t have streaming radio stations back then, coming in from faraway cities on our computers.
Limelight was best known for playing Euro-Disco — pure energy 80s disco music from across the pond — but that was before my time there, too. If I were going to put together a Limelight playlist, including songs that came out after they closed down but that they would have played, the following songs would be included. The songs marked with an asterisk are ones that I specifically remember dancing to at the Limelight.
- Relax – Frankie Goes to Hollywood *
- Living on Video – Trans-X *
- Flash Light – Parliament
- Word Up – Cameo *
- Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood – Santa Esmerelda
- Touch Me – Samantha Fox *
- Larger Than Life – Backstreet Boys
- Get the Party Started – Pink
- I Like It Like That – Tito Nieves
- You Spin Me Round Like a Record – Dead or Alive
- 4 Minutes – Madonna and Justin Timberlake
- What’s On Your Mind (Pure Energy) – Information Society
- Bad – Michael Jackson *
- Thriller – Michael Jackson *
- Tell Me I’m Not Dreaming – Jermaine and Michael Jackson
- Open Up Your Heart – Madonna *
- La Bamba – Antonia Rodriguez * (sorry, I couldn’t find an Amazon link to this one)
Other songs that the Limelight DJ’s spun for us included Stop, Wake Up; the dance version of Venus; and a song that I’ve never been able to locate, but what I wrote down on the napkin said, “Land of a Thousand Dances.”
When the Limelight closed its doors, I was devastated. Like the other Twinkies, I drifted from dance club to dance club looking for a new home, but the joy of dancing after the Limelight was elusive. The other Atlanta clubs were designed to be social clubs, not dance clubs, and there is a huge difference. A gazillion tables crowding around a tiny dance floor does not a dance club make, and it seemed as if 80s disco had been shot dead in Atlanta. I don’t know why, because we all still wanted it.
Rumor had it that the gay clubs were still going strong with this genre of music; and sometime later, two similar clubs sprang up called Axys and Petrus, but both were short-lived. I never found out where the other Twinkies ended up. I adopted the 57th Fighter Group, and The Shack, the latter of which also went poof after awhile.
Like the explorers of old chasing after lost islands, the Twinkies chased after a fast-disappearing dance scene. We were aliens in a strange new world, where dance clubs started leaning toward rap music instead of disco music. The Limelight giant was dead. Disco was dead. Somebody murdered them, and left us as orphans.
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For a look at the lost worlds that ancient explorers chased after, Ancient Aliens and the Lost Islands takes you deep down into wormholes to other planets, where extraterrestrials traveled from to get to Earth. If you believe in the possibility that humanoid giants once roamed Earth, Ancient Aliens and the Age of Giants delves deep into who they were, how they lived, where they came from, and what evidence they left behind. Neither book has anything to do with dancing. Both are related to ancient astronaut theory, and extraterrestrials visiting Earth.
Ancient Aliens and the Lost Islands
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The Gityasome T-shirt and Gift shop
The Bearsware Cool Kids store for Tshirts and Sweatshirts
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