This is a short multi consisting of just 2 stages: the start and the final, very close to each other.
Discoteca GOLDEN has a very special place in my memories. In Belgium I never went out. I was a serious student, and besides, I was terribly being bullied. I had no intention whatsoever to move myself in situations where I could be humiliated in public. But the summers in Denia were magical! Since I was a serious kid, and it was summer vacation, and my older brother and sister accompanied me, my parents granted me a lot of freedom to go out. Opening no earlier than 11 pm we returned home at 1 am at the earliest, later on, 3 am or even later became standard time. 
We walked together from our vacation home 'Villa Mira' [GC548J6] to Discoteca GOLDEN. And we returned together. Later on, when I was over age 16, we sometimes returned individually. The nights at Discoteca GOLDEN were amazing. I didn't dare to flirt. But I danced, and danced, and danced. I even appeared on the cover of an LP of the band Lem Chacheb (or something like that), don't remember their exact name. But for their album cover they chose a picture taken of Discoteca GOLDEN's dancefloor. With one person in the radiant spotlight, surrounded by people watching that exotically dancing kid. Especially reknowned where the 'Noches Fiesta'. For a 16 year old kid in the eighties they were just WILD! Miss pageants with girls eager to win so they took their top or bikini off, Transvestite nights, Mud fights between girls, Gin Larios game nights, it was all a bit overwhelming, but I had such fun. And no alcohol needed. All I needed was the music and dancefloor.
I also have a very bad memory: at age 18 I was molested in the discotheque. I am gay, but my best friend for years in Denia was a half Dutch half Chinese girl. We were both good looking kids [ahum!] and a lot of guys were jeaulous of me for the attention I got from girls. One night my friend and I were dancing, my brother and sister weren't in Denia that time. Suddenly, a drunk guy hit me right on my nose. Blood spattered all around, then he started bashing me. In a reflex I kneeled down on the dancefloor, hiding my head between my elbows. Only when the guy started to actually strangle me, and I was starting to suffocate in front of the eyes of the startled spectators, a couple of men pulled him away from me. Blood was everywhere on my face, my t-shirt and the floor. I was more furious than scared and called in the security, who called the police. My friend abandoned me: 'I really have to be home in time, otherwise my parents will be worried'.
In the police car, the guy who hit me was crying like a baby: 'Don't tell my daddy, he will be so angry at me'. I - with a pale face full of blood - sat in the front. The police asked him: ‘Why did you hit that guy?’ His answer: ‘Because he danced like a faggot!’
They took me to the hospital, and there the nurse of duty asked me to forget about the incident. The police wrote a report, and that was that. I was in downtown Denia, about 5 miles walking from home. When I asked the police if they could bring me home, they told me they weren't a taxi company... I didn't have any money on me, there were no cell phones at the time, so I was all alone, and had to walk the whole way back home.
I've never forgotten about 'the incident'. But the wonderful memories prevail. DISCOTECA GOLDEN now isn't but a shadow of its past. The space is now occupied by a supermarket. And the former entrance to the discotheque nowadays is... well just sad, honestly. No longer in use, abandoned. But in my heart I still see that excited kid walking through those doors, llooking forward to the night ahead of him. A magical night full of sparkle, music, and dance!