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Home Movies That Take Your Breath Away

An old friend, one I have not seen nor spoken with in 17 years, just sent me an email. I am not one who enjoys small talk or catching up with people’s lives through direct questioning (So, what have you been up to?), so I was pleased to find he was only indulging me in a bit of nostalgia.

Quite simply, and as informally as if we had just spoken some days before, he asked, “remember Hamenhoff’s List? :) I hope so”

At first, my thought was no, but upon reflection, I had vague recollections of a movie we made using his parents’ VHS camcorder. Only two parts of filming came to mind, but the general WWII theme involved a Rambo-Jew inflicting vengeance against the Nazis.

Violence was of course the main attraction for us boys. 9-year olds tend to not pander to those of high-brow wit, but we were certainly creative with our craft. Blood was obviously a necessary prop, so we used a combination of food coloring and a bit of Hersey’s syrup to capture the effect.

Playing the part of the Rambo-Jew, I laid upon the bathroom floor, camera angled upward from next to me. Within the shot, one could see the shower head as to mimic a gas chamber. Stepping into frame was my friend, playing every other part in the movie. His role in this scene was that of a Nazi soldier, standing over my body to laugh at my demise. He was unaware that I had survived, and I kicked my leg up and into his groin before escaping out the door.

Following the filming process, we dubbed over the action with dialogue and sound effects. My friend held the microphone in one hand while I clapped mine together at the exact moment of impact during this pivotal scene. At the last minute, he thought to open and slam the cabinet door of the entertainment center. The timing on the loud CRACK! could not have been more perfect, and the replay result left us gasping for air after a long bout of laughter.

Untethered.

I went with a few friends to Sea World this past Friday. Several of us went there roughly six months ago, and the tickets we purchased at the time were upgraded to Seasonal, good through the end of the year, for only an additional four dollars. This trip last Friday cost us nothing to get in, but for fourteen dollars, we purchased Sea World’s version of the “fast pass” which basically lets you skip all of the lines. Wait times for us were never more than three minutes.

Sea World has two coasters. Kraken has been there for quite a while now, but Manta was new as of our visit when we purchased the tickets. The new and exciting concept of Manta is that instead of sitting in your bucket seat and riding above the track, after you strap in, the seats flip up toward an overhead track so that your body is face down, and you fly like super-man… or like a Manta-ray, same number of letters.

Unfortunately the ride was experiencing technical difficulties when we first arrived, so instead we started with Kraken. After a couple back-to-back runs on Kraken, we walked around a bit and saw Manta had started up again. Another couple back-to-back runs on Manta, but on our second go around, my friend Erin looked at me from my left, exclaiming something about Alex’s phone. Alex, on my right, passed back a confused look. He had his phone in his pocket. Erin revealed she had seen something fly away from the coaster. It appeared to be Alex’s Blackberry phone. I began fearing that she did indeed see a phone go loose, but it certainly was not Alex’s. His was safely in his front right pocket, the same location that I kept my iPhone.

Front right pocket.

Which was now empty.

Our other friend in the row behind us called forward. Who in row one or two lost something?! Erin replied for me. Jon’s iPhone had slipped out of his pocket.

I immediately walked to Guest Services to find out what could be done. They added my name to a form where I gave some brief information on what had been lost and where. After the park is closed, employees walk the grounds with flashlights searching for lost items. I will have to call back the following day to see if it is found.

Like some high-schooler or college flunky who is making near minimum wage will actually put forward any significant effort to find a black iPhone on a cold, dark night amongst the bushes and shrubs under the coaster?! I wanted to search for it myself, so we did our best to narrow down exactly where it might have landed. Certainly it would be cracked and broken, but I needed closure. I also might need the pieces in order to file an insurance claim for a replacement.

Erin and others were trying to bolster my confidence. She had witnessed it cascade toward some bushes, so perhaps it would not be broken. Calling the phone resulted in four rings before voicemail, another sign that the phone was still powered and functional. Even still, it would have to be located. A working iPhone lost in a theme park does me no good come work on Monday. We decided to ride Manta another couple times to try to narrow down which bushes it fell to, which actually turned out to be quite helpful. We had it figured to two specific areas, both under the coaster so that it was unsearchable without getting ejected from the park. I searched nonetheless, at least in the sections that were more accessible, but with no luck.

Returning to Guest Services, I asked if I could remain after the ride had shut down, to search the specific locations where it likely had landed. They were unable to allow it, and urged that I let the overnight maintenance crew search as the do on a nightly basis, scouring the park at any time around midnight to retrieve lost items. Could I add a note to the report I filed to help guide them in the right direction? No, because they do not see the reports. They search and deliver all findings back to the lost and found department. Reports are only used for purposes of making a claim.

I would have to wait until morning.

We did our best to make light of the situation throughout the day. I subscribe to the adage of laughter being the best medicine. My friends joined in on the fun, of course not for my sake, but the sake of mocking me in a loving manner. We also tried calling my phone throughout the night in the event that it might help the maintenance crew hone in if they happen to be in that area, but it always hit voicemail after the fourth ring.

I called in the following morning from a friend’s phone, fully anticipating that nothing was found. The woman with whom I spoke declared a Blackberry had come in that morning, but would have to check for an iPhone, and placed me on hold. I knew I would have to ask for a manager for access to the park immediately after close. Would they deny me the opportunity to search for my own phone when I had the knowledge of where it might be found?

Sir? We did have an iPhone come in. It’s black. Sixteen gigabyte. It’s in one piece? And works? Unlikely it would be mine. Mine had no case on it at the time. This one has no case, sir. Can you look at the picture, the wallpaper image that is on the phone? Is it… a fat horse?

Yes. It IS my phone! I cannot believe it survived.

Thank you, fat horse. Thank you.

Consumerism is a drug.

During my college days, my roommates and I would always joke about the way we lived. The college lifestyle that we led lent itself to the eventual destruction of all but our most personal affections. Following each folly, which typically involved alcohol, we would survey the damage and quote the following.

This is why we can’t have nice things!

Those days have passed and I am now compelled to discard the hand-me-downs that have endured our wrath and replace them with new and shiny appliances and furniture. I feel it is finally time that I be allowed to have nice things. And yet, these things that I have collected over the years have actually maintained a reasonably high quality of condition. Most were inherited from my parents and are, in fact, already quite nice. Truthfully, the only complaint I could stand to make is that they do not necessarily match in color and style.

But I must buy new furniture. New appliances. New electronics and toys. I have a job. I make money. I can upgrade my belongings. I can have nice things. I should have nice things. I deserve the luxury of spending my cash on the items I need.

Need? Why did I say need?

I know they are not needed, but the reality is, these belongings have woven themselves so seemlessly into my everyday life, they have become fixtures. I am accustomed to having them, and now feel I not only need them, but need to improve upon them as better versions become more financially available to me.

Consumerism is a powerful force, but how can you not love the things that make life so much easier and more enjoyable? I still smile every time I unpack a purchase from the store or receive a delivery. It’s like Christmas, except Santa is in all brown and makes you sign for your gift.

However, there is a piece of me that has always wanted to slough off the everyday items that chain me down. It has almost become difficult to keep up with the consumerist mentality. The constant passive search to find and replace everything given to me or purchased more than a few years ago has become more aggravating with every swipe of the credit card. The enjoyment is fading, but the compulsion lingers.

I want to walk away from it all. Not permanently, but at least long enough to feel some amount of release and perhaps also to prove to myself that I do not need all of this to live a happy life.

I have always wanted to attempt homelessness. I know, it sounds weird, but I think I could survive it. In any case, since living out of a van for a couple months in New Zealand, I have wanted to lock up my home, put my ID in my shoe, and live on the streets for a period of time. At least 30 days. No food. No money. No place to sleep. Only the clothes on my back and the will to survive.

I think the first few days would go pretty quick and would involve a lot of roaming. A lot of time would be spent learning the ropes. I would probably find a couple other homeless to ask advice from. Like where is the soup kitchen? I would have to break a number of personal barriers as well. I am sort of a germaphobe and love a hot shower. Eating others’ leftovers and washing the dirt from my face with water from a fountain would be a difficult adjustment.

Of course, after the initial transition, I’m unsure of what I would do with my days. Do I just bum around town and play chess in the park? Sounds like a good life, but maybe I make better use of my time by offering to take on small tasks for local business owners in trade for whatever they choose to provide me, be it a meal or a little cash. Not that I really expect to find anything. Besides, is there even such a thing as commerce between the homeless and the working class citizen? I would like to think so, but it seems there would be a very narrow market for that sort of thing. And I imagine those few who have managed to carve that niche have little interest in sharing.

I have to wake up early for work, but the idea of having to be up before 6am makes me sad and angry. My solution is to set my alarm for 6:02am and adjust the time, on that clock only, so that it runs 8 or 9 minutes fast.

Then, I hit snooze once or twice to give myself a feeling of control over my work-day schedule. I’ll get there when I want to get there! (As long as it’s before everyone else that needs the gate open and direction on what to do.)