I suddenly appeared in the middle of a sea of tourists; freeing myself from the crowd, I stumbled in front of the Chinese Theater. I gazed upon my new surroundings: cars rolling down Hollywood Boulevard and screens flashing moving pictures. Jeepers creepers! I thought. I can’t believe I actually traveled in time. Now I could achieve my dream: reviving disco in the future.
I stashed my invention into my pocket, which read, “TRAVELED FROM FEB. 1, 1979.  TRAVELED TO FEB. 1, 2016.” I strolled along the current of the passersby, noticing that many of them were staring at me. I thought, Is it my spiffy threads? Did my afro look too big? Some were even pointing colorful boxes at me. Maybe those boxes were a new technology?
I kept on walking, searching for the nearest record company, until my eyes laid upon a neon sign directly in front of me that flashed the words “Diss Co. Records.” I booked as hard as I could through the crowd, bumping into people as I tried to reach the building.
I stood in front of two glass doors, and when I was about to push my hand against them, the doors automatically slid open, as if it recognized my presence. I was hypnotized by the contraption, stepping back and forth and watching the glass open and close, until I regained my composure and walked through. Wowzers, I thought, so much has changed in the last 40 years.
I stepped inside, only to find a receptionist desk with a foxy mama behind it. The young lady looked similar to me, especially the eyes. Could she be? I thought. I didn’t think so.
“What’s shakin’?” I said. “Please do me a solid. Can I speak with your manager?”
She glared up at me, returned her focus to the computer, and said, “I’m sorry, sir, but he is currently unavailable right now. I could leave him a mess-”
“I want to speak to him right now, you know. Can you dig it, man?”
She stared at what looked to be a thin computer. “How about, hmm, March 24th?”
“You gotta be joshin’ me, dude! That’s bogue, man! I want to see him now!”
“Security!”
Two guards suddenly appeared and grabbed me by the arms, hoisting me into the air.
“Chill! Please! Why not we hang at my crib later?”
“Let me think about that! How about, uh, no? Guards, take him away!”
Before the guards even moved, a young man with a brick house and fancy clothes entered
the foyer, saying, “Release him at once!” The guards obeyed, and I fell on the floor with a thud.
“You wanted to see me? Dan C. Diss, manager of Diss Co. Records,” he said, as he approached me and extended his hand.
I shook his hand, saying, “Scott Jones. Thanks for saving me back there, man.”
“You’re welcome. Let’s walk to my office, shall we?”
He escorted me down a labyrinth of hallways into a corridor with multiple doors. He tapped a button on the wall, and ding! One of them opened. We entered into the elevator and rose up to the 7th floor, where we disembarked and moved into an office filled with framed records and photographs, possibly of those of his clients. Behind the desk was a window that spanned the entire wall, and in its view was the Hollywood Sign off in the distance.
As Mr. Diss sat onto a chair behind his desk, he said, “So, Scott, why are you here?”
I also helped myself to a seat in front of him and said, “Mr. Diss, I time-traveled here from the 70s to deliver an important message for you: you need to revive disco, you know!”
“Time traveled? From the 70s? Ha! I don’t believe you.”
“I have proof, man,” I said, removing the device from my pocket and showing it to him.
“Okay, now I believe you, but you can’t revive disco. People today are interested in listening to different music. I’m sorry to break it to you, but disco is dead!”
“Say, what? No way, Jose! It is the best dance music ever! It’s so far out!”
“Have you listened to today’s music, bro? The ‘Whip/NaeNae’, or ‘Hit the Quan?’”
“Hit the who? No, but I can show you some disco moves and-”
“Hold up. You want to revive disco music without knowing what today’s music is like?
I’ll show you! As you say in the 70s, ‘let’s boogie!’”
Mr. Diss grabbed a remote off of his desk and pressed a red button on it. Immediately, the
lights dimmed, a curtain covered the window behind him, and a disco ball dropped from the ceiling and started to spin. I was up first, so I chose to play “Boogie Wonderland” and “YMCA” and busted out my signature moves: the Hustle and the YMCA. I pointed my hand back and forth diagonally, then rolled my arms, and topped it off with my arms spelling YMCA. I thought, I’m for sure going to convince him. I was hip to the groove.
In the middle of “YMCA,” the music suddenly stopped and changed into one of 2016 dance anthems. Based on the lyrics, I assumed he was doing what people in this decade called “The Whip and NaeNae.” Mr. Diss then bursted out into dance, punching his fists into the air and then waving his hands while stepping backwards, and then it took an even stranger turn when he started to rotate his leg on the ground. Just like the lyric being repeated, it looked so “stanky”.
Is this how dance in this generation is like? I thought. It was so crazy, yet it seemed fun. It looked so funkadelic! I fought the urge to dance, but the catchiness of the song defeated me. Next thing I knew, I started doing the Whip and the NaeNae. I just couldn’t resist! Then, Mr. Diss showed me this dance called “The Quan,” and we both flailed our arms like windmills while ducking and swaying. When we finished, I realized we spent an entire hour having a dance party, grooving to disco and “hip-hop”, as Mr. Diss calls it.
I said, “Wowzers! I can feel the funk. Your tunes are right on! What a fry!”
Grinning, he said, “Disco is not dead! It’s amazeballs! It’s on fleek!”
“Well, I better return to 1979. I can’t wait for 2016 to come! Catch you on the flip-side!”
***
The sun started to set over the peaks looking over the San Fernando Valley, creating streaks of red and orange across the sky. The sunset was the perfect end to this day. I listened to the radio as the host said, “It’s 6:30 p.m. right now on this beautiful day of January 31, 2016.”
I reminisced over my time-traveling experience like it was yesterday, which is actually tomorrow. After I got back from 2016, I destroyed my time machine and lived my life from 1979 to now. The world changed a lot since then, from technology to conflict to music.
Trying to avoid traffic, I cruised along a scenic road near Santa Monica, with the land breeze washing over my face. I recently got off the phone with my daughter, who told me all about her new job at a record company near Hollywood Boulevard. I started to lose focus when all of a sudden a businessman ran across the street right in front of me, but I slammed the brakes a few seconds too late. My Lexus convertible slammed into his body, flying across the hood. As fast as I can, I jumped out of the car and inspected the body in front of me to check if he was still alive. He seemed familiar, somehow. I checked his pulse, but unfortunately, there wasn’t any.
I searched for his driver’s license, and the name and picture on it nearly made me faint.
I just messed up the space-time continuum.