Friday, August 18, 2006
Movie Madness - Fuscations Ahoy!
Welcome, Fuscators! Today is Official Obfuscation day! I’m playing, once again, a game with y’all: can you catch me in a lie? Read this post and the last two carefully - two are true but I’ve made ONE of them up. Try to guess which one, and I’ll post the answer on Monday. The prize? Negotiable! Till then, don’t take any wooden nickels….
And here’s a link to a page that will, eventually, identify everyone who’s playing. As of this moment, it looks like just me, but I bet that’ll change… unless someone is pulling my leg….
Movie Madness
We were enthusiastic those first few weeks of college. I tried out for the crew squad. I considered pledging a fraternity, or pursuing a seat in student government. I figured I’d be large and in charge within a month or so, just like I’d been in high school. The other students? They didn’t concern me. Then I discovered that I was, in fact, up against a very formidable obstacle: my own damn self.
We - my suitemate Jon and I - started small, by joining the steering committee for our 25-story dormitory tower. They had an entertainment subcommittee and we joined that too. We knew how to have a good time and we were happy to show everybody else how it was done.
Within the first fortnight of our secondary education, we got our chance to shine. Movie night was starting - a weekly screening of a commercially popular feature, open to the entire student body campus-wide. The first one was going to be in our own dorm’s top-floor lounge. Jon and I volunteered to manage the affair.
Of course, that didn’t really mean much. All we had to do was arrange for the AV equipment to be delivered, get a copy of Murder by Death, and make sure the various campus PR organs knew the particulars. Frankly, the advertising was not so important to us. We just wanted to see a funny movie, impress our new classmates, and come out smelling like a couple of prize-winning roses.
Came the vaunted night, and Jon and I had everything all ready. The AV equipment showed up an hour early and we babysat it as the big glass-walled room began to fill - first slowly, but then at an alarming rate, till the place was packed with cynical upperclassmen, supercilious grad students, and short-tempered jocks. I guess we’d attracted about 150 people to the event.
It was ten minutes to showtime - time for me to go fetch the star attraction. I’d picked up the video the day before and stored it in my untidy private room, a place newly filled-up with furniture and possessions. My little desk teetered with stacks of textbooks and binders; my bed was a chaos of clothes and my floor was liberally sprinkled with critical paraphernalia. I rifled the bed for the video box but I didn’t find it there. I didn’t find it on the desk, either, or on the bookshelves. I checked under the bed: nada, not even dust bunnies. I began to get a little concerned.
I caught the elevator and rode 15 floors up to where Jon was holding an increasingly impatient crowd at bay. I told him my predicament, with some panic in my voice, and none too quietly. Some big florid dude shouted up to me, “Whaddaya sayin’, ya lost th’movie?” Many eyes turned coldly upon me. “No, not lost - I just can’t find it yet.... I’ll take another look....” I retreated to the elevators again and rode down for a final hard-core search.
My room was, by now, completely trashed, as my frantic pursuit of the tape led me to tear the freaking place apart. No tape. No goddamned tape. I was sweating, hyperventilating. It was now 8:10, ten minutes past showtime, and the show was officially late. To hell with the adage - it would not be going on. I stood up in the wreckage of my room, took a deep breath, and went back again to the lounge with defeat in my marrow.
Jon was waiting expectantly, as were those of the crowd who had given me the benefit of the doubt. “I’m afraid we have to cancel the movie tonight,” I announced in what I hoped was a firm, authoritative voice. “The film is missing. It’s not where I left it. I think it’s been stolen.” This explanation was met with varying responses - some sympathetic, but mostly doubtful. One guy from the entertainment subcommittee came up to me as the disappointed crowd filtered aimlessly out: “You only had to show up with a videotape. You couldn’t handle that? I don’t think you’ll be managing any more events for this dorm....”
He turned and walked away. I thought as I watched him leaving, how curious it was that he was receding but I was the one who felt so damn small.
Two days later I found the movie, under a stack of paperwork on my desk. I had to pay late fines when I returned it but that seemed only fair. I’d like to say I’ve been tidier since that night, but honestly all I can say is that I haven’t lost any more videotapes since then. I’ve also never seen Murder by Death since it came out in the theaters. The whole idea of renting it again makes me a little anxious.
