If you told my younger self that I’d be spending my Saturday night sweating under a flickering disco ball inside a stationary train car, I probably would have laughed.
Mostly because I didn’t think I had the coordination for it. Yet, here I am, dusting off my bell-bottoms and prepping my best John Travolta finger-point.
There is something undeniably magical about being transported back to the height of the disco era without ever leaving the tracks…