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by Costas
into the cold dark street and placed herself. She wore a dark coat over black trousers and tie-up knee length boots. Her head was graced with a black cap, her hair falling gracefully out onto her shoulders from under it. She looked casually divine. My emotions were soaring. At that moment, the planet Pluto did not seem so distant, so vague, so utterly unconquerable. Surely I was there. Had I reached my zenith? Maybe not, but this was as near to it as I had ever been. I stood there unable to move, unable almost to breathe, lest I wake up and realise it was just a dream. The party approached the swing doors where a group of PR people were scheduled to meet the diva. Should I approach and meet the wrath of bodyguard Bobby? One tap from those burly hands would surely have sent me flying straight to Piccadilly Circus. Do I scream something terribly naff such as "Donna, I love you" and face the horrible embarrassment of not even being heard? Or worse still, hear my voice break mid-sentence, to the amusement of the other fans who at that moment began to gather? I finally did what every other fan would have done. I approached the party and said "Hi." I felt like a ham sandwich at a bar mitzvah. The lady turned to look at me….actually down at me since she was much taller than I had expected. She smiled that oh so familiar smile and instantly melted my heart. She radiated love. She exuded warmth. "Hi," she replied. "What’s your name?" Was she talking to me? Surely not. Never in a million years. The whole group turned to look at me. I was desperate for a glass of water to swallow the cactus that was stuck in my throat. "Costas," I managed to croak. "Hi Costas. Nice to meet you," she replied. And with that, the party headed off inside. Several others had gathered by now and as we waited on the freezing cold Euston Road, I related my brief meeting with Ms. Summer. Envy was evident on their faces, and I felt it was unfair that they had missed out, but hey, for once I’m not going to knock the fact that I am always disgustingly early for everything through fear of being late. This time it paid off. I was happy to go home, sit down with a steaming hot cup of tea and listen to my new copy of "Christmas Spirit" and begin the festivities. "Let’s wait a bit longer," one fan suggested, "she may come out the front again." While waiting, we talked about the new album and how brave, innovative and revolutionary it was for Ms Summer to record it and how it would finally close the door on that whole Disco Queen thing. The black limousine pulled up outside the radio station and we knew that this was the cue for Ms. Summers’ exit. We could see inside the building as the party descended the stairs down into the foyer. Much shaking of hands took place between the group and we waited with great anticipation for the doors to open. Ms. Summer took one look at our pathetic frozen bodies, smiled, and said, "Hey guys, shall we take some photographs?" Well, before Donna could even finish off her last syllable we started clicking our cameras and gathered around her and Bruce while showing off our new copies of "Christmas Spirit." "Where did you get those from?" inquired Mr. Sudano. "On import" someone mentioned. "And yes, very expensive too." Bruce Sudano turned to the UK PR team and said, "You see." Evidently, Donna’s UK PR people must have thought the CD would not sell in England. The schmucks! "It’s fabulous," I said. And with that Ms. Summer beamed. It struck me that with all her awards, rave reviews, album sales in the multi-millions and past glories, here was a singer who genuinely reveled in the fact that her work was appreciated, nay loved. "I can sign those for you." Well, you have never seen so many copies of "Christmas Spirit" appear out of pockets, bags and jackets. Ms. Summer signed each and every one, asking our names in turn. More photos were taken and jokes were shared. My turn came to have a picture taken with Donna. She embraced me, her arm around my waist. "Smile," someone shouted at me, "It’s Donna Summer." "I’ve been waiting 20 years for this. I’m too nervous to do anything in case I wake up," I replied. Donna laughed. All good things must come to an end goes the clich� and as the party began to leave, Donna hugged and kissed each and every one of us. I’ve never been able to look at the Euston Road in the same light since.
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My All Time Donna Summer Top 36 (in no particular order):
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Costas is a writer and long-term Donna fan from London, England. He has written about Donna in international publications such as "Blues and Soul" magazine. |
Summer
