I am not going to be breaking any new ground here. In fact, you’re probably not even going to want to read this when you realize what I’m talking about because you’re so sick of hearing about it, but try to bear with me.
I saw Eclipse on Saturday. What I’m not going to talk about is how much makeup Robert Pattinson was wearing/how bad Taylor Lautner’s acting was/Kristen Stewart’s whole-body stutter. I am going to talk about the people who were there with me.
I feel like I need to lead off with the fact that I am generally a cool kid. People like me. So it sorta pisses me off that every weirdo tween girl in this country is obsessed with the Twilight series, because it has, at times, caused me to doubt my own awesomeness. I like the books, and I would love to be able to go see one of the movies in the theater without feeling like I need to be wearing some sort of disguise, lest I be recognized and banished from the popular table for all time.
So anyway, the movie started at 10:15 Saturday morning. We stopped for coffee and arrived at the theater at about 9:30. (I feel like I should specify that “we” includes myself, my mom and my two sisters, one of whom was there against her will. Gary neither promoted nor took part in this particular excursion, and I thought he’d appreciate my pointing that out.) The theater hadn’t opened yet when we arrived, so we got in line behind the hundred or so people who had gotten there before us. They all looked fairly normal. I mean, I noticed a Twilight t-shirt here and there, but I decided to give those people the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it was an ill-chosen birthday present from a great aunt who thought, “Hey, you’re a girl between the ages of 5 and 50, you must love Twilight.” And then maybe they thought, “Hey, thanks for disregarding my request for gifts in the form of cash or check so I wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of disposing of whatever embarrassing refuse you sent 6 weeks early, but I guess since I have this, I might as well wear it while I’m in the one public place where it might be considered acceptable.” Regardless of whether or not this was the case, the people in front of me were the least of my worries. It was the people behind me who left me so deeply, deeply disturbed.
I never got a good look at any of them because I have a crippling fear of awkward eye contact, but from what I could tell there were three or four of them. One of them was youngish, maybe about my age, maybe a few years younger (I’m hoping for the latter, because at least that would give her some shred of an excuse for her behavior) and then there were at least two ladies with her who were a bit older. I remember thinking this was probably a mother-daughter-grandmother situation. I don’t remember what order I saw/heard these things happen, but here is what I do know:
1) One of the older ladies (I’m assuming the grandmother) was holding a New Moon umbrella with Edward Cullen’s giant face on it. It was not raining.
2) The younger girl mentioned that she had the same umbrella, as well as a life-size cardboard cut-out of Edward, which was like, the best Christmas present everrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
3) I overheard the lady holding the umbrella say, “When we went to see the Twilight, we got there at two o’clock in the afternoon. We waited like 9 hours, but we were the first people in line!”
I almost don’t even know what to say. But I’m sure I’ll think of something.
Okay first of all, umbrella lady, you’re a grown woman, and you’re just embarrassing yourself. This behavior is unacceptable for someone at your stage of life. You’re not thirteen, and this is not the premiere of Blue Hawaii. Secondly, since you’re probably the one who purchased the Greatest Christmas Present of All Time, I’m just curious to know what on earth you’re thinking. You think it’s a good idea to encourage your granddaughter to be obsessed with a fictional character against whom she’ll undoubtedly compare every young man who attempts to date her for the rest of her life (assuming that even happens, since she never leaves her bedroom, which is wallpapered with posters of shirtless man-boys, and has completely lost the ability to communicate face to face with the opposite sex, because she finds that there's less pressure in flirting via myspace and instant messenger since it gives her time to formulate a witty response and then pretend the only reason it took her so long was that she's having thirty other conversations and she "almost forgot she had even been talking to him"), only to be disappointed again and again because he can’t read minds or save her from the army of vampires who are trying to kill her? Or maybe you think she’ll go the other way and think it’s okay for her boyfriend to sneak in through her window so they can make out on her bed every night, trusting that he’ll never try anything because although he’s a vampire, he's got old-fashioned morals?
I’m not even going to comment on point number three, as I feel it speaks for itself.
I just wish dorks would stop liking the same stuff I like. First Harry Potter (although to a far lesser degree of crazy), now this. It’s funny, because I could actually kind of understand if people were this fanatical about Harry Potter, because it is awesome, but those guys seem to be able to keep their heads. You don’t see Daniel Radcliffe being hit by cabs because he was chased into the street by a crazed mob of teenage girls begging him to bite their necks. Harry Potter fans are cool. Especially the ones named Emily Gray.