Day 342: Freak Flags Flying

Though my friend David hasn't really made a whole lot of blog appearances, I'll have to say what he's lacking in quantity he's definitely making up for in quality: drive-in movies, glassblowing, and his idea for Day 342's thing I've never done before: DragonCon.

According to the event's website, DragonCon is, "The world's largest fantasy/Science-Fiction convention held annually in Atlanta every Labor Day weekend."

Now having attended the festivities, I think I'd like to rewrite a more appropriate description. I'd call DragonCon (sorry, Mom), "The weirdest fucking thing I've ever seen. So fucking weird."

I'm not sure when he came to love DragonCon, but David and his brother (who flew in from New York City exclusively for the event) are big fans. They've attended in years past and had already hit downtown for Friday night's festivities. His brother opted to sleep in on Day 342, but David picked me up nice and early Saturday morning so we could catch the parade.

"It's the best people watching ever," he said to me as we made our way downtown.

"Better than the airport?," I asked.

"Oh yes. Way better."

But when I pressed David for more details about what exactly happens at DragonCon, he couldn't really elaborate.

"But what's it for?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" he said.

"I mean, what's the point of the costumes? Is there some sort of contest? Is it a convention? Are there classes that people take?"

David paused and stared at me, like I had backed him into a corner with my line of questioning.

"I really don't know," he said calmly. "To me, it's just a bunch of freaks dressed in costume."

That sounded good enough for me, though since I'm not really a Halloween person to begin with, it was hard for me to imagine why anyone would enjoy dressing up in costume for seemingly no reason at all.

Traffic was terrible on our way downtown thanks to DragonCon and plethora of other events going on downtown. We got stuck at a red light for several minutes and had to watch part of the parade from the car. From what I could tell, it looked like a normal parade with floats and bands, lots of little kids watching. And then I looked out my window and saw people on either side of the street wearing animal ear headbands and angel wings, holding wands walking towards the parade, and I had to consider that this parade was actually very different from anything I'd ever seen before .

We parked the car and rushed over to the parade. What surprised me the most right away was the amount of people that this event had drawn. I was there simply as a spectator, and I had to assume that others were also, but mostly these people had come out, in costume, to fully engage and embrace DragonCon.

Because we arrived late, it was difficult for me to see a lot of the parade, but based on what I had seen so far, there was no doubt Atlanta had been overrun by people with extremely vivid imaginations, and their creativity had manifested in costumes and dragon floats.

The highlights of the parade for me were the "cast" of Shrek including an over-sized Gingy, and the "cast" of Back to the Future and the Delorean. The parade ended with the "cast" of Star Wars and a George Lucas lookalike that left everyone in the crowd asking each other, "Is that him?!" "There's no way that's him!"

David and I laughed about how many of these parade participants were leading double lives.

"What if you saw your straight-laced boss, or your physician out there, dressed up like a Gladiator?," I asked him.

And I tried to imagine what I would say if I saw mine.

David explained that four downtown hotels are where all of the DragonCon action happens. The Sheraton, the Hilton, the Hyatt Regency, and the Marriott Marquis all happily play host to the event, so after the parade was over, we walked over to one.

And here's when things really got weird.

To say that walking into the lobby of a DragonCon hotel was scary might be going a little far, because there was absolutely nothing to be scared of. But I was beyond overwhelmed. As far as the eye could see there were people dressed in costumes, walking around like it was no big deal.

There was a part of me that was frightened by the horror-themed costumes; I felt a little bit like I was back at the Netherworld Haunted House, and worried that someone might get in my face and try to scare me. But these costumed creatures were jovial and friendly and for the most part, kept to themselves. Except when asked to pose for a picture, which they all happily and often did.

After spending a day there, I know now that I could write a book entitled, Things Overheard at DragonCon, but I burst out laughing when I passed by a guy dressed like Harry Potter tell his friend wearing a cape, "Buy a rocket, the end is near."

The nerdiness of DragonCon was completely living up to its potential. And most participants own it. One woman wearing a "Nerd Convention" t-shirt holding a plastic sword said, "I feel so powerful with this thing!"

The women were absolutely rocking this event, wearing platform shoes and tight outfits posing for pictures with men whose tongues might as well have been dangling out of their mouths. In a world that might not accept their quirkiness and unconventional beauty, they are accepted and appreciated here and it made me smile.

We took a break from the hotel hopping to eat lunch outside, where we could thankfully continue the people watching.

It occurred to us while eating that ESPN's Gameday show was taping downtown for the UNC-LSU game, so in addition to the DragonCon crowd, football fans were starting to fill the streets. For us, it meant we got to see the merging of two very different kinds of people. Seeing the oxford shirt preppy fraternity guys walking down the sidewalk with guys dressed like superheroes was comedy all its own.

All nerd jokes and judgments aside, I had to wonder at what point in our lives to some of us go in one direction and others go in the direction of DragonCon. If instead of taking me to the beach or to South Carolina football games on weekends, my parents brought me to science fiction/fantasy conventions, would I be among these women dressed up like wenches? And at what point does someone cross the line from liking the movie Shrek and wanting to dress up like Shrek to march in a parade? Why do some of us play poker and some play Dungeons and Dragons? When it comes to our interests and our freakiness, is it nature or nurture?

And is there ever a chance that someone can be a member of both teams? I spotted a big guy in an Auburn hat, who I assumed was like David and me, and just around to observe. But when he accidentally bumped into me and said, "Excuse me mi lady," as if he was from another century, I had to then assume that he was one of us and one of them.

David saved the best for last for after lunch. He'd been building it up since he picked me up, telling me about this room he and his brother had accidentally stumbled upon the night before. The basement where the ultimate DragonCon weird goes down and the weirdos come out to play. Literally.

On the way there, there was more people watching, more posing with wizards and superheroes. I overheard a young kid speaking very seriously to another.

"Well, no, because there are no living people on that planet."

Are these people serious? Who talks about this stuff?

We took an escalator downstairs to the basement where there were rows and rows of long banquet tables and stacks of games on each of them. There were games that I recognized, like Monopoly and Apples to Apples, but they were abandoned. From what I could tell no one was playing with them.

David seemed a little bit disappointed, explaining that the night before the "game room" was filled with people all playing different games. I hope he didn't think that I wasn't absolutely impressed with what I was seeing, because I definitely was. Freaked out, but definitely impressed.

In fact, I had to remind myself to not let my mouth gape open in amazement/shock/horror of the nerdiest people I've ever seen sitting at tables playing Dungeons and Dragons, Risk and a whole slew of other games that I'd never seen before and probably wouldn't understand.

We walked around the perimeter of the room, and then snaked in and out of the tables observing. I planned on smiling at anyone that I made eye contact, but that would've required anyone looking in our direction, which did not happen. The people playing these games were completely oblivious to us. They were so wrapped up in what they were doing, they didn't even notice that I was staring and trying to stifle laughter at what I was seeing. It was as if they were acting like dorks; like they should've taped their glasses and wore pocket protectors.

But they weren't acting. They were serious. Very serious, in fact. After an eternity of staring at a large sheet of paper with coordinates and ships on it (almost like Battleship, but not), someone spoke.

"Bring your speed down to 2. And see the major for your next assignment."

My eyes widened and I stared at David, and I couldn't hold my laughter. I quickly walked away from the table and headed towards the escalator, making that last quote the last of my DragonCon experience.

I still have absolutely no idea what DragonCon is for. I can't get anyone to verify if anything other than dressing up and gaming goes down there, so I've had to assume that maybe it's just an opportunity for the freaks of the world to come together to wave their freak flag.

And as someone who has been waving her own freak flag all year, I say, "Wave On, DragonCon!"

Day 339: Why Natte?

On Day 339, I met Maribeth for dinner at Corner Tavern in Little 5 Points. Our friend David met us as we were finishing dinner to have a few drinks.

The purpose of David joining us was so that he could deliver my items from our glassblowing class. They had to be left at the studio to cool and the instructor advised us to come back and get them in the next week or so. David picked up mine for me, and since I had been out of town the weekend before, I just told him to meet me after dinner.

That way we could follow through with our plan to make Day 339's thing we've never done before to ask the bartender to serve us drinks in our very own glasses.

The way I saw it all transpiring in my head was that we'd present the glasses, very nonchalantly, as if we were those quirky people who insist on drinking out of their own glasses. I wanted to appear natural, cool, laid back about the entire request.

But of course, I was neither cool or laid back. I instead, unwrapped the glass from the paper it was wrapped in and handed it to the waiter. He knew this was my first time making such a ridiculous request and if he didn't, I think I probably told him, in an obnoxious I'm-trying-to-be-charming way that, "I MADE THE GLASS MYSELF! IN A GLASSBLOWING CLASS! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?"

Yeah, that sounds more like what happened.

The waiter smiled, seemingly willing to comply with my request. He asked me what I wanted to put in the glass, and I fell silent. I hadn't really thought about what I wanted to drink, only that I wanted to drink out of my new glass that I made.

I fumbled for a second and I think he saw my uncertainty as an opportunity to pitch their featured drink of the day, one that incorporated the coffee energy drink "Whynatte Latte."

He said it tastes a lot like an Irish coffee and I didn't ask any more questions. I said, "Sure!" adding another first to Day 339.

He returned with my glass, which miraculously does hold liquids without leaks. I really made a glass! And it's functional! I took a look at the Whynatte concoction, which looked like a latte on ice and then I took a sip. The waiter was right, the drink tasted like a minty Irish coffee.

Good, if I was snuggled up on a couch in front of a fire place in someone's mountain home in December.

Not good if I was playing trivia in a loud bar in Atlanta where temperatures had yet to dip below 90 degrees despite it being September, which is exactly where I was.

The drink turned warm quickly and then it was like drinking super sweet, thick coffee. I don't want to make any sweeping judgments here, but I think there is something wrong with pre-blended coffee drink in a can. And even more wrong when the drink is served with alcohol in a bar.

I had no choice but to finish it because it was in my glass that I intended to take home with me. I should've followed David's lead and simply ordered a liquor drink.

Until trying this terrible concoction, I'd lived my life with a "Why not?" kind of attitude. But now, I have to associate my once-favorite phrase with this horrible excuse for a coffee beverage.

The next time someone asks me, "Whynatte?," I'm afraid I'm going to have to say, "Because it tastes terrible and makes you feel like shit the next day."

Day 328: I Blew It, I Really Did

It was my up-for-anything friend David that came up with Day 328's thing I've never done before. He's a crazy talented graphic designer and into artsy things. He suggested we take a glassblowing class.

The only thing that I knew about glass blowing at that time was that my high school friend Will had quit his job when he was in his twenties to give a serious go at making a living being a glass blower. I thought it sounded cool, but his family thought he was nuts.

"They have that here?," I asked, completely forgetting that Atlanta is a big city with a lot of creative people. Of course Atlanta has glassblowing! Of course it does!

David explained that there was a glassblowing studio near both of our neighborhoods. They teach day-long classes on the weekends and just so happened to be offering one that Saturday, Day 328.

Day 328's thing I've never done before was to blow glass. Or glass blow?

So we signed up, and after meeting for lunch at Albert's, we headed over to Janke Studios for our class. We had a little trouble finding the place. Partly because neither of us knew where we were going, and also because I had no idea what a glassblowing studio really looked like so I had no idea what to look for. Janke is tucked inside Studioplex, a relatively new industrial looking office/apartment complex in historic Old Fourth Ward.

Even after we parked the car and were walking over to what we thought was the glassblowing studio, I wasn't positive that we'd arrived at the right place. Not until we felt a punch of heat coming from an open warehouse-looking room full of ovens full of melted glass, was I sure that this was it. I instantly regretted taking this class in August, as the website suggested, as a safety precaution, wearing closed-toed shoes and long pants.

The entrance to the studio was about the size of a garage door and opened to a grassy courtyard. David and I stood next to a middle-aged man who was almost pacing he was so excited to be there. He was wearing "dad" jeans and told us his family had purchased this class for him as a Father's Day present. I could tell that he was fighting the urge to jump in there and get started.

I thought about my own Dad and all of the Father's Day gifts I'd bought him over the years. I've definitely let him down in the past, but I'm quite certain nothing would've let him down as much as a glassblowing class.

I admit, what he was watching was pretty mesmerizing. Inside the studio, which was dusty and hot, we saw an older gentleman working on a glass project. He moved quickly and purposefully heating and then shaping a blob of glass into what looked liked candlestick holders. He made it look easy, but I'd gone on enough adventures to know that when professionals make something look easy, it's usually not. I prepared myself for the worst.

I also noticed that glassblowing, at least the kind this guy was doing, was not an individual craft. While he seemed quite capable, the kind of project he was working on required another set of hands, provided by a younger gentleman. The two worked together, transferring the glassware from one long steel pipe to the next. Their movements were so smooth, it was almost as if they were doing a well-choreographed dance.

The younger guy, Alex, turned out to be our teacher. He was cool, and attractive in a, "I make things with my hands, I'm an artist," kind of way.

He gave each of a us a stack of papers stapled together that included an outline for the class, a long list of general terms and a list of class policies. The worksheets seemed like a lot to deal with for a day-long class, but I skimmed over all of them and waited for further instruction.

Alex gave us an overview of what we were going to be doing by taking us step-by-step through all of the equipment; as he was explaining it, he demonstrated himself, and ended up making one of the pieces that we would first attempt.

The guys elected that I go first, so with teacher by my side, I walked over to the furnace to gather my glass.

Gathering glass happens as you might think it does, by merely dipping a stainless steel tube called a, "blowpipe," into a furnace filled with molten glass. A few turns was all I really needed, but the heat is so intense, the very first step was not an easy one. And I thought that I was strong, but I had difficulty getting the leverage I needed to pull the pipe, now dripping with molten glass, out of the furnace. Luckily Alex never left my side and was there to pick up the slack.

Once the glass is gathered, Alex instructed us to keep the blowpipe in constant motion as we moved from one station to the next. Because, like melted caramel might fall off a Popsicle stick when held still in one place for too long, that's exactly what happens to the glass. I had to continually turn the blowpipe to keep the molten glass from falling off the end. But like walking and chewing gum at the same time, easier said than done.

The second step in a glass project after gathering the glass in the furnace is coloring the glass. Before even starting, we sifted through bags and bags of shaved glass to chose the right color and then we'd dump the appropriate amount onto a table. After walking from the furnace, we'd pause for a minute or so to let the glass cool slightly, and then we'd walk over to the table with the colored glass and lay the blob in the shards of glass, smashing the color to our creation, we had to turn around and put the stick into an oven to heat it, and melt the color in.

Once reheated, we sat on a bench, still turning the stick in front of us, we'd take giant steel tweezers and pull the melted glass away from the blowpipe to form petals like a flower. At least that's what was supposed to happen. I simply couldn't work fast enough. I learned quickly that time is of the essence when it comes to to working with glass.

That's because glass cools quickly and its consistency becomes less like caramel, more like thick tar. And since I don't work well under pressure when it comes to artistic projects, I was a nervous wreck. Within seconds, shaping the petals with the steel tweezers was like a full-on upper body work out and it did not end well. My flower ended up looking like a crippled hand that got stuck in a paper shredder.

Super Dad and David followed me on making flowers, and I think both were surprised that it wasn't my girly lack of strength that made the tweezer work difficult. The glass was seemingly hard for them to shape as well.

The next project we worked on was a paperweight. I made plenty of paperweights in elementary school art class with clay, but this was going to be a serious, high-end paperweight. I was already thinking about who I was going to give it to. Definitely the person in my life who does a lot of paper work next to open windows.

A paperweight is actually two projects in one. We dipped our sticks in the melted glass, chose a color, reheated and sat at the work bench, just as we'd done with the flower. Only this time, instead of pulling the glass to form petals, Alex let us be creative and told us to do whatever we wanted. We could pull the glass, poke holes in the glass, make indentations or twist the glass. This was a little bit more free form, because whatever we did here was going to create the optical illusion inside the paperweight. Once we were done adding all of the visual effects, we returned to the furnace for more glass, covering the free form blob with another layer of clear glass that we helped smooth into a nice, round, smooth dome.

This project got a little tricky at the end because in order to give the paperweight a flat bottom that makes it functional, we had to use diamond shears, or oversized steel scissors to create an indentation at the base. Like pulling cooled glass with tweezers, a physically exhausting task. I did it though, and once completed, Alex took a hammer-like tool and knocked the paperweight off of the stick to continue cooling.

Though I have absolutely no use for a paperweight, this was probably the project that I am most proud of, just because it looks cool.

There were a few nicks and minor burns here and there, but we made it to the end of class without any serious injuries. And we were mighty impressed with our flowers and paperweights, but couldn't ignore the fact that we hadn't yet blown any glass. We'd melted a lot of glass, shaped a lot of glass and created a couple glass items that I knew had absolutely no purpose and would simply clutter my house.

The final challenge was to make a tumbler that would require us to, for the first time, actually blow air through the blowpipe into the melted glass to hollow it out and created the "cup."

If reading the words, "blowing into a long stick," make you chuckle a little bit, then congratulations on having a dirty mind like David's and mine.

We could hardly contain ourselves when our middle-aged super excited dad classmate literally asked a dozen questions all including the word, "blow," and all completely relevant, yet dirty-sounding.

So we just put our mouth on the end of the blowpipe?

Yes, that is correct.

On the tip?

That's right.

And then we just blow?

Yep.

How long should we blow for?

As long as it takes.

And we need to hold the stick while we are blowing?

Yes.

I was dying.

I realize there is really no easy way to talk about glass blowing without saying, "blow," but I couldn't help but be embarrassed. I soon found out that hearing my dorky classmate say "blow," at least a dozen times would be the least of my worries, because "just blowing" glass was not "just" anything. Glassblowing is hard work. It felt impossible. I was blowing all of the air in my lungs out, but nothing seemed to be happening.

There was a moment when I thought, thanks to the heat, that I might pass out right there on the cement. My face turned a million shades of red and my cheeks began to shake as I looked at Alex, a pleading look of desperation in my eyes.

I have never been so relieved to hear him say, "That's enough," in my life, this time indicating that I could stop blowing.

After I was done, I walked the now hollowed glass back to the oven for more heat, and then just like I saw him do with the older gentleman at the beginning of class, we transferred the glass from one blowpipe to the other so that I could work with the opened end.

The opening is only about the size of a quarter, however, so with great finesse, I had to reheat the cup and then using the tweezers, slowly make the hole larger while constantly turning the cup. I thought I would destroy the glass, but I actually did it, and did it quite well. My tumbler is more of a juice glass, but the fact that I can drink out of it is quite remarkable if you ask me.

If I've bored or confused you with all of these terms and instructions on how to blow glass, then you understand how truly difficult this craft really is. And I'm sorry that I don't even have super cool pictures to show you what it looked like because of the whole lost my camera in New York thing. Trust me, I'm more disgusted by it than you are.

As suspected, my two sad flowers and paperweights are collecting dust on a book shelf in my living room, but the glass will make another appearance on the blog, so just wait for that.

This class was a pretty cool and interesting way to spend a Saturday afternoon, but I think I'm going to leave the real glassblowing to the professionals.

I do know that my days of scoffing at high prices for hand blown glass are definitely over. I know the blood, sweat and elbow grease to create the intricate, colorful pieces and trust me, they are worth every penny.

Day 314: Celebrity Sighting, Sort of

One of the questions I'm commonly asked about the blog and the rules that I set forth for myself to do 365 new things in one year has to do with what happens when I do multiple things in one night. Could I transfer those new things to another day? If the thing I've never done before happens after midnight on a particular night, would it count as the next day's new activity?

My answer has always been, "No." If I go to Fernbank to drink martinis and see an IMAX movie as the things I've never done before, and then something else happens to me that's new then I'll just consider that new thing a bonus, but not necessarily something for the blog.

That is, until Day 314.

Because what happened after midnight was so exciting, it deserves its own entry. After being ignored by Kelly Ripa, Paula Deen, and Delilah, Day 314's thing I've never done before was to finally make a connection with a celebrity.

After leaving Fernbank, the crew went to East Atlanta Village to grab some dinner and a couple of drinks. We also went to 529, a bar nearby, to see Otis Redding in concert. And by Otis Redding, I of course mean Otis Redding III, the son of "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" Otis Redding. That Otis Redding has been dead since 1967.

Only when we arrived to hear him play, the only person at the venue was a DJ spinning records on the stage where we assumed Otis Redding would take the the stage. We opted to start our own dance party and wait for him to arrive. If only "start my own dance party" was something I'd never done before. But let's be serious, I'm a dancing machine; that wasn't new at all.

Thirty minutes into our dance party, we were getting dangerously close to quitting time and had to assume Otis Redding (the third) wasn't coming.

So we asked the creepy DJ on stage, who had been enjoying our antics all night. His response, "Um, he played here hours ago."

Whoops. Our pre-concert dance party, was actually happening post-concert.

We decided to leave the venue upon hearing this news, defeated that our trip to Midway had caused us to miss the main event.

But all was not lost, because as we made our way out of 529, the Otis Redding III walked right in front of us.

"OTIS!," my friend Scott called after him, as if we'd all been friends for years.

Otis turned around and smiled, very gracious and nice. We walked over to him, and told him, all at once, shouting in his face, "We tried to come see you! You were already gone! We started a dance party!"

He seemed overwhelmed, but couldn't have been nicer. And then Emily asked if we could have our pictures made with him. He agreed.

Some might argue that Otis Redding III, the son of a musician who has been dead for more than 30 years, was hardly a celebrity encounter at all, and they might be right. But after striking out three times this year to meet/shake hands/cook with/work out with a celebrity, meeting a famous person's son felt pretty great.

So did the dance party.

Editor's Note: I'm completely aware that there appears to be a gaping whole in the front of my shirt, but I assure you it's an optical illusion, and nothing more.

Day 313: World of Rhythm

Day 313's thing I've never done before was to attend Martinis & IMAX at the Fernbank museum in Atlanta with a group of friends wanting to do something different on a Friday night.

This activity was something that I'd wanted to do for a while, on the list of, "things to do in Atlanta." Martinis & IMAX is, just as it sounds, a martini party at an IMAX movie at Fernbank, Atlanta's science museum (think the Museum of Natural History in New York).

The evening presented several opportunities for new things (first IMAX movie, first trip to Fernbank, first time playing in a percussion drum circle made up of my own friends), all while doing something I knew I already loved to do: drink martinis.

I assumed ahead of going that like most things in Atlanta, this activity was pretty laid back and casual; so I suited up in normal summertime attire: jeans and a sleeveless shirt and headed over to Fernbank. When I got inside the museum, however, I was surprised to find it was a lot nicer than I was expecting. There were cocktail tables filling the lobby where there was an enormous dinosaur skeleton on display, a lounge singer performing with a band, and fancy cocktails being poured at bars around the perimeter of the room. I thought perhaps I should've dressed up a bit.

Emily, Scott and I met in the parking lot and hurried inside in the rain to meet Amy, Jeff and David. Fernbank offered a variety of different drinks, but Emily and I went with the old faithful, always delicious, dirty vodka martini, extra olives. We grabbed a seat and enjoyed the band for a while. And by "enjoy" I of course mean judging the lounge singer for her ill-fitting tight green dress.

We finished our drink and grabbed another before heading into the theater to watch the IMAX film, Pulse: A Stomp Odyssey. The film was made by the creators of Stomp, the stage show that, more or less, made banging on buckets entertaining. I saw Stomp years ago and was impressed at their ability to turn the super ordinary into something extraordinary.

When I took my seat to watch Pulse, the only difference I could see between an IMAX film and any other film I've seen is that the screen is enormous. Like floor to ceiling huge. I'm sure there are probably many other ways IMAX films are different, and I look forward to someone explaining them to me, but regardless, the mere size of the screen was enough to make this movie-viewing experience completely different from anything I'd ever seen before. I felt like I was in the movie with them. It was awesome.

Pulse is like a journey across the world, showcasing the sites and sounds of different countries. The film's description says it's a celebration of the global beat. The film stars dancers and musicians who I suspect were those kids in elementary school that couldn't sit still and were constantly tapping their feet or their pencil on their desks or twirling across the classroom. Much like myself actually.

There are drummers in Sado Island, Japan, a couple of high school marching bands who march across the Brooklyn Bridge in New York, a flamenco dancer in Granada, Spain, Native American dancers in the deserts of New Mexico, drummers in West Africa. The list goes on and on.

There is no dialogue in the film, only music (made by the stars themselves) and movement. I didn't think I could be entertained by a movie without any words, but Pulse proved me wrong. I was mesmerized by the beautiful scenery and began adding to my mental list of new places I want to visit and new dance moves I want to try, new instruments I want to play.

The night began in a very entertaining fashion, which turned out to be only the beginning of much bigger and better things to come on Day 314.

Check out the trailer for Pulse right here.

Pulse moved us so much (pun intended), we started our own impromptu drum circle in the parking lot of Fernbank. You can check that out here.

Day 286: Take Me to the Drive-In

When I think of the drive-in, I always think about the scene from the movie Grease when Sandy and Danny get into a fight after he tries to cop a feel after giving him her class ring in the front seat of his car. When I think about Grease, I think about my best childhood friend Danielle and I watching the movie on repeat one summer and memorizing every sexually overt lyric and every suggestive dance move to all the songs in the film.

Our parents never seemed to be bothered by the fact that we performed Grease concerts daily that summer, mimicking the characters in the film. I guess something about it taking place in the 1950's when everyone wore poodle skirts made inappropriate songs seem more okay?

Anyway, that scene with Sandy and Danny is always what I thought of when I thought of a drive-in--teenaged boys in letterman jackets and girls in bobby socks "necking" in the back of '57 Chevys. I assumed that the drive-in was something that like sock-hops, had gone away over time. But thanks to Starlight Six Drive-In on Moreland Avenue, I learned that the drive-in is still very much alive and well.

Day 286's thing I've never done before was to channel my inner-Pink Lady, and go to a movie at the drive-in.

I knew ahead of time that my drive-in experience was not going to be like the scene in Grease. First of all, this was a group outing, so nobody was trying to get "fresh" with each other, at least not as far as I could tell. I mean, there were married couples there, so I suppose it's possible, but my friends Amy and Jeff had just completed a three-week cross country tour in a camper, so I think they were looking for some outside conversation, and since Emily and Scott had asked me to ride with them, I'm pretty sure they weren't looking to score either. At least I don't think.

Not to mention, unlike the drive-in movies that I'd imagined, at this drive-in, we actually got out of the car to enjoy the movie. Most people around us did too.

And for this group, the drive-in was more like a cook out, in an enormous parking lot, with dozens of strangers, where there just so happened to be movie playing on a big screen.

So, yeah, not very Grease-like at all. But I was pumped, excited to be doing something different on a Saturday night, and very much looking forward to making my own drive-in experience.

We went to the grocery store ahead of time in search of our bounty, which included chicken breasts, bagged salad, and ingredients to make cream cheese stuffed jalapeno peppers wrapped in bacon.

Yes, you read that correctly. We (well, not me, but others) decided to cook chicken and bacon wrapped stuffed peppers on a homemade grill. In the parking lot. Of the drive-in. I marveled at my movie team's enthusiasm and decided that I, once again, have picked the right people to hang out with. I still can't decide if I am a lazy person, or if I have the most ambitious friends ever, but regardless, once again, the company I chose worked strongly in my favor.

Had it been left up to me, we would've simply picked up sandwiches from a deli, and 40 oz. beers from a gas station, and been on our way. But if my super ambitious friends want to make a hot meal (appetizers included) on the grill and drink summer specialty brews, I have no choice but to support them.

I assumed, incorrectly again, that the drive-in would show one film and we were at the mercy of whatever they were playing. But on the way there, I found out that not only do they have six screens to choose from (get it, Starlight Six?), they also show two movies on each screen back to back. So for $7 a piece, we could drive our own cars, park directly in front, grill our own food, drink our own drinks (alcohol included) and see two movies in a row. Starlight Six Drive-in, then, has to be one of the best entertainment values in town.

We pulled our cars in when it was still light outside and immediately the boys started getting to work assembling the grill (a disposable aluminum lasagna plate and a brought-from-home grill grate). Jeff began marinating the chicken, while Scott stuffed the peppers and wrapped them with bacon, securing them with a toothpick. Amy and Emily and I took a step back and let them do their thing. We looked at pictures from Amy and Jeff's cross-country adventure and sipped on brews.

The crowd at the drive-in was extremely diverse. All ages, races, socio-economic statuses were represented. What seemed clear, and would remain pretty clear throughout both movie viewings, was that the tailgating and fellowship aspect of the drive-in was far more important than watching the film. This is probably why people talked throughout the movie and were constantly driving in and driving out while the films were in progress, sometimes driving right underneath the screen. We even had friends show up midway through the first movie, casually walking up to our cars with a cooler. When you're outside, under the stars, with your own food on the grill, the drive-in becomes more about that, and less about the cinematic experience.

Not a problem for me, especially when the films we opted to see were the animated film Despicable Me and The A-Team. In our defense, there weren't a lot of great options out there at the time. But these were great for the drive-in. They were both entertaining, and not in need of serious attention.

When the sun had started to set, Scott and Jeff fired up the grill, and began to cook our feast, starting first with the stuffed peppers. I was impressed that he attempted such an aggressive hordeourve, not so impressed with the peppers taking so long. I don't think that any of us really knew how much time grilling on a homemade grill would take. And before we knew it, before our meal was entirely cooked, the sun had set.

One thing that is funny (or scary depending on how you look at it) about grilling our own food at the drive-in is that once the sun went down, despite the glow of the movie on the screen, we were unable to really see what we were eating, and therefore couldn't really tell whether or not it was fully cooked. We basically threw caution to the wind and went for it, convincing ourselves that as long as it looked, and tasted done, we were fine. And we were, though I'm not sure cooking and eating this way is the safest way to go.

We all settled in with our plates full of delicious food and settled in for our first film, Pixar's Despicable Me, about a supervillian (Steve Carrell) who changes his ways after becoming an unlikely dad to three young girls. I loved it. So funny, so cute and sweet. I may have cried. No, I definitely cried.

I honestly thought (and secretly hoped) that after the first movie, we would do what a lot of other cars were doing around us, and leave. But it became pretty clear that no one was going anywhere; they were all excited about watching the A-Team. So I sat back down in my chair and got ready for another feature film.

I'm not sure if it was the hearty meal, or if I was tired from the icing the night before, or The A-Team is just a really bad movie, but I had a hard time staying awake to tell you what it's really about. I may have dozed off in my beach chair several times. Again, not very Grease-like and the farthest thing from cool that I can think of-falling asleep at the drive-in?

But don't let my inability to stay awake fool you. The drive-in is a blast, and such a different, fun way to go to the movies. I will be back.