I stopped abruptly, and blinked rapidly six or seven times.
It was still there. A disco. I felt my knees give, and quickly moved to the side and dropped myself into a hard plastic chair. I had a lot to get my head around.
I was dead, of that I was certain. The last memory I had before finding myself outside the door to this bizarre function was of a large tree coming through the front of my BMW, very shortly after the unmistakeable boom of a tyre giving way. I laughed a little as I recalled thinking 'oh look, a squirrel'.
Strangely, I was coping with the being dead part far more than the nature of the afterlife. I had 'come to' in a place that was uniformly white and featureless, like that bit in the Matrix just before racks of weapons arrive like steamtrains. Except for the double doors, undistinguished but for the two small windows, one in each door, glazed with that wire-embedded fire glass.
"Funny," I had said out loud, to no-one at all, "they look like school doors."
How right I was. The disco that now seemed to comprise my afterlife wasn't some fantastic night-club, or high-energy music festival dance tent. It was one of those over-lit, school-gym discos that always ends too early. Chris de Burghs 'Lady in Red seemed to be the only track the DJ owned. A few pretty girls were wandering around, but all they gave me were scowls. I'd hated these Discos when I was a kid.
Oh.
Understanding was starting to seep into my brain. Apparently, I hadn't led a good life.
Inspired by an off-the-cuff comment by Evetspordlaw about a 'post-mortem disco' (you'll find it in the comments)
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