thenameselodie takes a break from nerd flirtin' to relive her epic Potter premiere adventure. Take notes: THIS is how you spend 4 hours in a theater.—Sparkitors
I have two things to say before I tell you all about my Deathly Hallows experience. First—this post will be spoiler-free. I’ve ruined many, many books and movies over the years (Holly still hasn’t forgiven me for the Marley & Me incident of 2008) and I’ve resolved to, you know, stop. Second, I’m not exactly proud of what happened that night, but Jaclyn claims that causing scenes is all a part of the experience.
It was her fault. It really was. We bought half the candy aisle at the grocery store before heading to the theater at 9. The line snaked all the way around the mall, so the front of the line was actually in close proximity to the back of the line. Jaclyn, Tara and I were playing cards on the floor. Suddenly, an employee announced that they were letting people into the 2D showing. Jaclyn took this to mean that just anybody could go waltzing into the theater, and promptly jumped to her feet and bolted for the entrance, yelling, “Come on!” over her shoulder. And somehow—SOMEHOW—we managed to go straight to the front of the line. Nobody stopped us. We’re lucky there wasn’t a serial killer with an axe wandering around.
“Jaclyn,” I hissed, jogging after her. I was a hot mess; we had been all spread out on the floor, and when Jaclyn took off I’d been forced to haphazardly grab whatever was in reach. (We later found out I took someone else’s deck of cards.) I nudged her. “Jaclyn! We just cut in front of people who’ve been waiting for seven hours! We’ve been here for ten minutes!”
“Well,” she said, striding up to the concessions counter, “if you want to stand on principle, you can go wait in line. I’ll save your seat.” She winked at me, and then her jaw dropped. “Jeez, food is EXPENSIVE! Seven bucks for nachos? They better be DAMN good nachos.”
I sighed. Jaclyn has a very loose interpretation of the word “line.” In her world, lines are for other people—whereas I would rather gnaw off my own foot than cut in front of anybody. But as much as it killed me, she was right. I didn’t want to go wait by myself. We grabbed some seats, and I started doling out the stuff I’d gathered before blatantly cutting in front of hundreds of people like the World’s Biggest Wiener Jacket.
And so began the interminable wait. We played Catch Phrase, during which we learned the word “nepoticide” and resolved to use it in casual conversation. At one point Jaclyn confused Anne Frank with Anne Hathaway (“Brain fart of the century,” she said). The best part, though, was when we decided that every guess must be made in a demonic voice. (Think “Harmony” in The House Bunny.) So Tara would be saying, “It’s, um, it’s a country in Africa… it’s in the Horn… I seem to recall it being a regional powerhouse but don’t quote me on that…” and Jaclyn and I would say demonically, “ETHIOPIA,” like together we were a single entity of Satanists with stunning geographical knowledge.
Interesting TV show idea: take five strangers and throw them together at a Harry Potter midnight premiere, and see what conversation topics crop up. For instance, we started talking about what we would do in the event that a deranged gunman came running in. I can’t say for sure how this came up, but if you’re sitting in a theater for three hours (but it seems longer, given the MANIC anticipation), I guess everything comes up eventually.
“I’d Frisbee the Catch Phrase game at him, hopefully knocking him out,” said Jaclyn. “In the very likely event that I missed, and accidentally took out a mall cop or something, I’d dive under the seats.”
“I’d negotiate our release by offering him Twizzlers,” I said.
“I’d hide under all the bodies and play dead,” Tara said conversationally, fishing around in her pocket for her cell phone. She caught Jaclyn and I staring at her with our mouths open. “Oh, come on!”
“That’s the sickest thing I’ve ever heard,” I said.
“Speaking of sick conversations,” said Jaclyn, straightening up and looking at us both with an intensity I found disturbing, given the subject matter, “if we were in a Donner Party situation, would you eat me?”
We were laughing too loud and talking too much, but so was everybody else. The sugar consumption probably wasn’t helping. At 11 PM, a guy dressed as Dumbledore ran up to the front of the theater and yelled, “ONE HOUR, MUGGLES!” which of course caused everyone to cheer uproariously. At precisely 11:45, I suggested to Jaclyn that we pee. (We have notoriously small bladders.) For a split second we only stared at each other… then simultaneously we started clawing our way over seats and into the aisles, whereupon we broke up a duel between Dumbledore and Bellatrix in our mad dash to get to the bathroom.
The previews dragged on and on and on and ON. By about the seventy-ninth preview, everyone groaned audibly—but then it was revealed to be that new Taylor Lautner movie Abduction, and a good many girls gave this collective “oh, I guess I could sit through one more” sigh… including yours truly. Part of me just wanted to marvel at the degree to which you could grate cheese on those abs. The trailer didn’t even show them, and I was still left in awe. Even his hypothetical abs are impressive.
And then finally—FINALLY—the movie started. The audience gave tumultuous applause in all the right places. People cried. People cheered. People fist-pumped. It was magical. Of course, I had to be that person who was trying to open a snack and practically drowning out the movie in the process. I was determined to rip open the wrapper and take out my Ring Pop, but the Ring Pop was just as determined to stay inside. I wrestled with it until Jaclyn leaned over and hissed, “You’re dead to me.”
“You’re ruining a perfectly awesome scene,” whispered Tara. “Just want you to know that.”
I slouched in my seat, properly chastised. Then, seized with the rationale that I would just go for it and somehow I would be gifted with the strength of a hundred men, I grabbed the wrapper and tore at it with a vigor heretofore unseen by human eyes. The result was a veritable explosion of sound. People actually shushed me.
“What, did you just transform into a werewolf?” demanded Jaclyn. She grabbed it and opened it on the first try. Wizardry, indeed.
If you haven’t seen it… see it. If you have seen it, see it again. Or don’t. I’m a Muggle girl, not a master of the Imperius Curse. But dude… I felt emotions I didn’t even realize I had. Alan Rickman’s performance was majestic. Neville was the badass I’ve always wanted to be. I was only disappointed by the fact that Oliver Wood made no appearance. I swear I saw him in the trailer, and I took that fact and warped it into some deeply misguided hope that Oliver Wood would in fact turn out to be the Chosen One, and he would save the day, and he would get the screen time that has for so long eluded him, plotline be damned. Why the sudden interest in Oliver Wood, you ask? Well, he’s pretty. And he looks good in turtlenecks. What more could you ask for in a boy?
NOTHING. Turtlenecks pretty much cover it. How does this premiere adventure compare to yours?
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