Ooof, Mondays. Amiright? I am still recovering from the weekend, from Thursday night actually. Generally I’m in bed no later than 10 PM on school nights, 10:15 on weekends, but this past Thursday I stayed out past 3 AM! I was just boozing it up, throwing it down, shaking it side to side.
HA! No. I was in the movie theater for a 12:06 AM showing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2: The Deathlier Hallows: 2 Deathly, 2 Hallow. It was, hands down, the nerdiest thing I have ever been a part of, and this is coming from someone who spent most college weekends hosting Disney Channel viewing parties. I haven’t been surrounded by so many adult virgins since, well, the most recent Disney Channel viewing party.
Our showing was one of 12, debuting every minute from midnight through 12:11 AM in a giant multiplex near Penn Station. We arrived 2 hours early and the line was already, literally, around the block. One fullManhattancity block lined with geeks. Girls as early-years Hermione, in kilts and sweaters, nearly everyone with penned-on lightning bolt scars and/or wands. A group carrying swiffers in lieu of brooms. There was a girl with gold wings, presumably dressed as the snitch, and a surprising number of otherwise “normal” looking 20-something guys in what appeared to be very expensive, or expertly hand-made regulation Gryffindor quidditch uniforms. To those gentlemen: call me. There was a group of about a dozen young women with neon yellow hoodies screen printed especially for the occasion with the movie’s title and the date on the front and special nicknames on the back. There was a kid dressed like He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named (Voldemort) in black robes and terrifying white face paint. There were a number of Luna Lovegoods, but none of them were nude. A rare missed opportunity on my end.
If it sounds like I’m making fun of these people, oh, I definitely am. But, like that closeted, neckless bully rags on Kurt in Glee, I tease because of true love, and jealousy. I should have dressed up! A regret I’ll take to my grave, I’m sure. Bury me in my nude suit with a long blonde wig, please.
The theater was filled with an air of camaraderie as we all shrieked at the romantic parts and gasped at the scary parts and She Who Shall Not Be Named (me) sobbed, audibly and dramatically for a full hour, wiping her snotty face with a coffee-stained paper towel. It was perfection.
It was not, surprisingly, the most energetic or the most awkward movie crowd I’ve ever been a part of. I admit, with much shame, that I once went to an opening week showing of one of the Twilight movies, I can’t remember which one. Maybe the second one? There was a fight on a mountain with a red-headed vampire? She died. Spoiler alert! Lord (Voldemort) knows why I went to this film, I must have been out of wine at home or something. I’ve made my opinions on the Twilight series verrry clear to anyone who will listen, but for those of you who’ve not yet heard my review, allow me to summarize it for you in one word: TERRIBLE. And now, in two words: VERY TERRIBLE. Bad writing, bad characters, bad plots, bad dialogue, bad romance, bad, bad, bad. Bad! And don’t bother just reading ahead to the fourth book in hopes of a good sex scene because, spoiler alert again, NOTHING HAPPENS. (Or so I hear, anyway. Not like I did that or anything. What a pervy move that would be ha, ha, ha awkward laughter…backs slowly out of the room…)
So while it may sound nerdy and awkward to be in a room full of people dressed in wizard costumes, imagine being in a room full of grown-ass women, we’re talking like 40+, we're talking like this lady:
wearing Team Whatever t-shirts, shrieking, practically panting with lust and weeping with joy every time some 16-year-old warewolf rips off his jorts or creeps into his girlfriend’s bedroom in the middle of the night or whatever happens in that movie. That, my friends, is awkward.
Actually that’s also probably how my Nude Luna friends react when watching HP movies but for the point of this argument let’s just say: Potter fans are losers, but we could be much worse!
As we walked home up 8th Avenue in Midtown Manhattan at 3:00 in the morning the usually busy city streets were quiet. Our route took us past bars and sex shops and The Saddest Place On Earth, the Port Authority Bus Terminal and barely anyone was out, save some drunk revelers stumbling out of bars, some homeless people, and groups of midnight moviegoers, all in their finest Harry Potter gear. It was a veryNew York sort of night and, it actually felt, forgive me for going all Carrie Bradshaw on you, god this is so cheesy, a tiny bit magical.