Fangirls Don't Cry

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, there was a fangirl squee so intense, that it destroyed an entire planet.

And by a long time ago - I mean today. And by far, far away - I mean right here, at this very computer.

There I was, happily jotting away at my adult coloring book (because my standard Loony Tunes coloring book and crayons were apparently not up to snuff, I swapped out for a fancy one - that my mom got me - and some colored pencils), my laptop sitting a few feet away, humming along as it loaded the latest ep of Downton Abbey (#CuzIm90). A ping. Some sort of social media alert. A brief glance up at the screen where I see a newly released Star Wars trailer from a mega-fan friend. Naturally, I click play immediately. Overwhelming joy, soaring musical fanfare (at full volume), insane visual stimulation and then... Tickets Now Available.

The laptop topples to the floor in slow motion. Or, in actuality, it hurtles off my lap as I launch it away in excitement and then gasp, gather it up off the floor, pray that it's still functioning and click frantically to buy tickets at my favorite theater for midnight showings. Site malfunction. Try another movie ticket site. Site malfunction. And another. And another. Until I find that I myself am malfunctioning more than the sites.

And yes, I started to get a bit hysterical. For the past almost fifteen years, I'd attended the midnight showing for every major sci-fi/fantasy film release. I could just go the next day, but...no. Not an option.* Frantic call to super-fan friend to shriek about my panic.

He's already driven to a theater to get his tickets.

That's all I needed to hear.

Five seconds later, I've swapped PJs for pants and am in my car just after 10:00 pm. I can hear the brassy intro music echoing in my mind. Alone in my car, I sing a few bars under my breath. Hit the gas pedal.

Flying through the construction zone on the highway, I envision being pulled over for speeding. The officer asking, "Where you off to in such a hurry, miss?" As I frantically sputter out, "Star Wars tickets, on my way, must get, before sold out!" And the officer would look down at me and say, "I'll let you off with a warning. Now get going, and may the force be with you." I would squeal happily as I hit the gas pedal once more.  Luckily, I didn't have to try my luck with that one. The twenty minute drive to the theater took ten, spurred on by a full blare of "Hold on, I'm comin" by Sam and Dave. I put my Blues Brother sunglasses on, even though it was dark out. The fangirl is nothing if not reckless.

Arrived. Parked like an idiot, diagonally across several spaces. Started my sprint to the door.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a duo of young men likewise bolting towards the theater. "Oh HELLS no," I think aloud as I pick up the pace. By the time we got to the door, the three of us were in a dead sprint, my dread growing seeing the line of people inside. The little punks hit the entrance first, throw it open and rush in. One of them shouts back at me, "I'd be a gentlemen, but… Star Wars." I know, man. I get it. I'd have punched you in the face and stepped over your weeping body, but I'm a g'damn lady. ((If they'd have gotten the last tickets however, that'd have been another story, one that would end up with me posting bail or in a mental ward probably.))

Wait. Eventually get to the front of the line. All 7:30 showings for premiere night are sold out. All the 10:00 showings, too. The man at the counter looks up and says, "Please don't cry, we have another showing that night." ....He was talking to the man behind me.

I find your lack of faith disturbing... GOT 'EM!

Then there they were. The tickets, in my hand. Three tickets to relive the glory of my youth. Flashbacks to waiting outside the theater for hours leading up to the midnight showing for the prequels - despite the fact that my small hometown theater had no line and no fear of selling out. It was a rite of passage, to celebrate a revival of a beloved franchise that I had obsessed over as a child. And now, a fresh chance to do it all again, there in my hand.

And then the wind caught the tickets.

You've never heard a war cry so very shrill and piercing.

But at the point of my writing this, they are once again nestled safely to my bosom (next to my heart, duh). After finding my way home through the daze of pure adrenaline, I'm home again. Rest easy, fangirl. You've had a busy day. You're fortunate to be all in one piece. Those Jundland Wastes are not to be traveled lightly…

Did you all get your tickets too? Who else is frickin' PUMPED? 

#IdBeAGentlemanButStarWars

*A Star Wars revival comes along but 2-3 times in a generation!