A Night at Studio 54

A Night at Studio 54
A Night at Studio 54

Dear Diary:

It was 1977, and I lived on Gramercy Park. One afternoon, my friend Robert, a documentary filmmaker, called and asked if I wanted to experience the place that everyone was talking about — Studio 54.

Later that night with a sense of celebration and excitement, we turned the corner onto 54th Street and found lines and lines of people waiting to get in.

We walked straight to the front of the line. After all, we were New Yorkers, and this was our turf. Or so we thought.

We were told to go to the back of the line and wait like everyone else. Just then, I saw a line of stretch limousines disgorging their passengers.

I noticed one of the limos at the corner, waiting for the light. I approached the car, flashed the driver a twenty and asked if he would drive us around the block.

He told us to hop in. He turned right, and then right again, before pulling up to the door of the club. A bouncer opened the limo door for us, and ushered us in right past the line.

We didn’t leave till 3:30 in the morning.

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