I remember what my first movie experience was like. Specifically, I recall the line that stretched out the theater door and around the block, hiding in my mom's shoulder when the stampede almost killed Simba, and being near tears when Mufasa died. Uh-huh...I was one of those lucky fuckers who got to see
Lion King when it was in theaters. That's right, bitches: be envious of the scintillating glory that was my childhood. Movies were pretty much the best thing ever, and a more economical choice (never thought I'd be saying that) than blowing a bunch of money on clothes whilst shopping. Believe it or not, in Colorado--Land of Nothing To Do---your choice is shopping or a movie. I always went for the cinematic adventure, knowing wonders would await me as soon as I stepped foot in that theater. Film was a way for me to escape reality, a means for something in that Podunk town to actually be exciting for once. It gave my friends and I a topic to talk about at school, an activity to do on dates other than making-out from sheer boredom, and a way to evade the 100-degree scorching Colorado sun.
And then I went to college and saw my childhood explode into a billion flaming popcorn pieces before my eyes.
