Remember 404?

Friday and Saturday nights were Club 404 nights. It was what I looked forward to all week.

Getting ready was a big production. After taking a long shower, I would pack up my stuff and head over to Joanne's or Michelle's. I preferred to get ready there, so I did not have to hear my Mom telling me I looked trashy when I was leaving.

We would spend hours trying to decide what to wear, trading each others clothes, determining who we wanted to impress that night, and how we should dress to achieve that.

Our hair was very important. We would help each other out, separating hair into long chunks, coating it with hairspray and pressing the hot hair crimper to it. The heat would cause the hairspray to sizzle and steam, but the results would be awesome. We'd turn our heads upside down, scrunch up all the hair, tease it a bit, add tonnes and tonnes of hairspray, and before we knew it, we looked just like Lita Ford. Well at least our hair did.

The makeup was next. Huge amounts of foundation would be applied, to cover those big ugly pimples we got from wearing too much makeup. Some dark blush would be put on, to give us the illusion of high cheekbones, and light powder over that to tone down our over-zealousness. Then there were the eyes. We'd carefully apply our powder blue eyeshadow, sharpen our black eyeliner and put two coats on, top and bottom. If we were really feeling daring, we may even bring it out to make a little point on either end. Our eyelashes would be curled, and dark black mascara slathered on so thick our eyes would stick together when we blinked.

Our clothes would consist of either a really, really mini skirt with black nylons, or skin tight, lie on the bed and use a coat hanger to do them up, straight leg stretchy jeans, in light blue or acid wash. Our shirt would be cut off, showing ample skin, or if it was cold, we'd wear a shaker knit, v-neck sweater that would sit off on one shoulder.

I liked to wear a bandanna around my wrist, I had different colours to match my outfits. Michelle liked to wear a red one around her ankle, and Joanne only wore one if she had a hickey to hide.

But my favourite thing to wear was either my biker hat, or Joanne's Indiana Jones hat. I would spike my hair so that it fanned out around the hat and I thought it looked, like, totally awesome.

If we were wearing jeans, we would put on a pair of slouch boots to go with them, with or without fringe. If it was a skirt we chose, then spiked high heels would be put on. Joanne and Michelle were lucky enough to have fringed leather jackets, Joannes was purple suede, Michelle's was black leather. I wore an old faded jean jacket with strategically placed tears, or my old jacket from Loyola high school that I had stolen from some boy I could not remember.

We all had fringed Harley Davidson purses, which would carry our frosted lipstick, some money, some gum, a lighter and our cigarettes, which were tucked way to the bottom so to not be seen by our parents.

Trying to find a ride could be a challenge. If we were lucky, one of us would be going out with someone who had a car, or we'd try to sweet talk some other guy into giving us a ride. It didn't matter who it was, if we didn't like them, we'd just ditch them at the dance. Anything to get out of having one of our parents drive us. That was humiliating.

Arriving at the club was a big production. There would be plenty of hugs, whether it was a friend you had not seen all week, or someone you'd had just seen that afternoon at school. Standing in line, you'd catch up on all the gossip, find out who had broken up, who was going out, who cheated on whom. There would be a mad frenzy of passing around the McDonald's cups, filled with something more than just coke. Sometimes some Canadian Club, could be some vodka, or maybe a mix of whatever someone stole from Daddy's liquor cabinet.

There would be much discussion about who might be 'On Something' that night. Had Rich dropped some acid, had Joe and Brent been seen smoking up behind the building? OMIGOD, I heard Cathy and Heather were totally stoned.

Once we paid our way, and received an okay from Lisa or Mike the owners, we were in the door. I don't think I could ever forget the feeling of walking in that dark hall, the music blaring, the floors and walls painted black, the red chairs, the red bar, the lights on the dance floor.

You would stand just inside the door when you walked in, checking out who was there that night. You'd see Sara and James, sitting by the bar, Michelle and Larry out on the dance floor with Marc and Leena. Brent would be on a bar stool, with Jeanette by his side, and Mark would be nearby with whatever girl he was going out with that week. I'd look for Shawn, even when we weren't together, I loved seeing him there, he'd surely be near Vlas, who at 6'8", was not hard to miss.


I'd try to find that guy I kissed last week while we danced to the last song. We would have talked on the phone every night since then, with promises we'd meet that night.

Within minutes an awesome song would come on and we'd all be rushing the dance floor, giving it everything we had. Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC, Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard and Bear Cat by David Wilcox were some of our favourites. And if Goodnight Saigon by Billy Joel came on, almost the whole place would get on the floor and belt out the words...We'll All Go Down Together.....It was just awesome.

There would be fights, tears, rumours and break ups. Someone would puke in the bathroom, and some couples would sneak out to the parking lot to be alone in the back of a van or car. And at 1:00 every night, Somebody by Depeche Mode would play, the lights would go on and we would all head outside. Those of us without curfews would head over to Tim Horton's for a coffee, the rest of us would head home with promises to meet the next day for a game of football at Spencer Smith Park, or maybe to go bowling down at Burl-Oak.

You're ears would be ringing from the music, your hair would have gone flat, and there would be black streaks under your eyes from all the makeup. You'd be carrying your shoes because your feet were killing you, and your lungs would hurt from all of the smoke you inhaled. You'd probably feel a little sick from whatever you drank earlier that night, and you would be exhausted from the endless dancing.

That was Club 404, and I loved it.