Music Room. The children stare aghast at the horrific something at their feet and when the camera flips around, we discover that Mr. Schue's magically replaced the room's dreary linoleum tiling with Coach Sylvester's "very own, personal, one-of-a-kind, lit-from-within, shatterproof Plexiglas dance floor modeled, of course, on the dance floor immortalized by a young, musky John Travolta at the height of his potency in the legendary dansical" from which this episode has taken its official name. That especially vivid description of the floor in question came from Coach Sylvester herself, of course, because yeah: There's no way Mr. Schue would ever describe John Travolta as "musky." Actually, there's no way anyone on the planet other than Coach Sylvester would ever describe John Travolta as "musky," and as that particular adjective placed in direct reference to John Travolta is actually making me throw up a little bit in my mouth, I'll cut to the chase, such as it is: Mr. Schue announces this week's previously-discussed musical theme and he and Coach Sylvester reveal that the winner of the opening "dance-off" atop that pricey new floor will receive a replica of Tony Manero's iconic white polyester suit, which Coach Sylvester is having "a cadre of expert Viennese tailors painstakingly reproduce" right this very minute.

Smear sideways to Coach Sylvester's cadre of expert Viennese tailors, which is actually just Becky Jackson bopping along to a disco soundtrack as she stitches the replica together in Sue's office -- and no, I don't know whose measurements Becky's using to make the goddamned thing, but I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to care, anyway -- and after we smear back to the present, Mr. Schue kicks things off with his appropriately high-pitched rendition of The Bee Gees' "Night Fever," with backup vocals provided by Dreamboat Blaine and New Guy With Gross Hair Whose Name I Can't Be Bothered To Look Up. The song's signature falsetto is like nails in my ears, of course, no matter who's performing it, but the dance-off itself is actually kind of fun, especially when Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen rips open his shirt to unleash a couple of his patented Kentucky Fried Stripper gyrations in the middle of the whole thing. When did he get to be so hot? Sigh. Of course, when Frankenteen lurches center stage for his turn in the spotlight, he's utterly incapable of offering us anything more than a couple of badly off-beat disco-style pointy fingers, but that's to be expected by now, I suppose. At any rate, his terminally ungainly ass quickly vanishes into the back of the pack when Mr. Schue and Coach Sylvester lead them all in a sharply-choreographed Hustle to end the awkwardly truncated number.