Indiana Jones and the Epic Movie-Going Experience of Logan, Helen, and Rhiannon

Final draft of my personal narrative for Creative Writing. Based on fact, but the cutesy lines are 169% fiction. For a more accurate account of that night, go here:

http://thecoolestnerdyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/05/what-about-now.html

-Helen

Indiana Jones and the Epic Movie-Going Experience of Logan, Helen, and Rhiannon

"Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
I get high with a little help from my friends,
Oh I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends...."

-The Beatles, “With A Little Help From My Friends”

Costumes dawned and faces made up, two girls exited a vehicle in front of a simple brick home on a peaceful street. They bid their goodbyes to the driver – they wouldn’t be back until the early morning.

“We look ridiculous,” said Rhiannon, a tall blonde made taller by a pair of inappropriately high heels. She wore high waist skirt and loose curls for the occasion.

“We look amazing,” replied her friend, a smaller brunette girl in a short black skirt. Her unruly wavy locks were blown straight and she had something written in blue eyeliner on her eyelids.

Though it was early summer, the night was cold. They hurried up the sidewalk and knocked on the door. They were greeted by a gangly blonde boy in a leather jacket and a hat too mature for his boyish features, though it was more than appropriate for the occasion.

“Good evening, Dr. Jones,” said the brunette, a sarcastic and enthusiastic girl named Helen.

“Hello, ladies,” he replied, opening the door wider. “Er, what are you?”

The girls rolled their eyes and stepped inside. “I’m the psycho Nazi chick from the third movie,” said Rhiannon, “and she’s the student with a crush on Indy and ‘love you’ written on her eyelids.”

“Oh-kay…,” the boy replied. “That’s….Creative?”

“Shush, Logan,” Helen responded. “There are like no good costumes for girls in these movies. She got the only good one.” She jerked her thumb in Rhiannon’s direction.

They made their way past the entry way and the front steps, heading for the computer room.

“What time is it?” Rhiannon wondered aloud.

“Almost nine,” Helen replied, “what time are we leaving?”

“Around ten thirty,” Logan said. “We need time to get to the theater and get good seats. We’ll have to get there at least forty-five minutes early.”

“Cool, but what do we do until then?”

They looked around skeptically, unsure of how to fill the time. There was a rather impressive computer setup on the desk, but the thought of watching their friend play World of Warcraft for the next hour and a half was enough to make the girls’ stomachs turn. Helen turned around and eyed a stack of DVD’s atop an old TV set.

“We should watch Temple of Doom,” she suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” Rhiannon said, falling onto the couch. Logan agreed and started setting up the movie. Rhiannon and Helen began digging through the unusually large purses they had brought along for the movie. Helen produced three orange sodas and threw one to each of her friends.

“What’s this?” Logan asked.

“Chilled monkey brains, of course,” Helen replied. “The finest delicacy that this jungle has to offer.”

They were drawn into the movie, sipping on their drinks mindlessly, cringing at just the right moments, and cheering on Short Round as he narrowly escaped a certain death towards the end of the film. The time escaped them, and by the time the movie had finished, it was nearly time to go.

With Logan’s mother acting as chauffer, coffee in hand, the trio hurried to pile into her car, anxious to get to the theater. They spoke fast –a combination of caffeine and excitement at work- and forgot to busy themselves with meaningless details; details concerning things such as keys and lights and tickets.

In all of the excitement, Logan had forgotten to safely tuck the tickets under his hat as he had originally planned. They were already running late and having to return to his house only pushed them further behind schedule. After a few anxious moments, they were on the road again, headed for the theater and praying that there were some seats left.

When they arrived at the theater, it was completely packed. A seat in which one wouldn’t have to lean back one’s head to an unnatural position to see the screen was a dream, an impossibility. They ended up with seats in the front and settled into them as best they could.

They weren’t surprised to find others dressed up, playing the characters they had come out at such a late hour to see. People were passionate about this. This was a truly historic event, a rebirth of a classic. It had been years since the last movie, and now, finally, the beloved Indiana Jones was to return as the epic hero of the screen. This was easily the greatest night of their young lives. Their eyes sparkled with excitement and their breath stopped dead in their throats as the lights dimmed…

*****

This was an epic battle indeed. They were all battling their eyelids, which were growing increasingly heavy as the movie wore on. And just as Dr. Jones and his trusty team of minions and Russian scientists escaped the rapids of some waterfall or another, Helen lost her fight, her head nodding against the seat. ‘Just for a minute,’ she told herself, ‘I won’t miss anything important.’

When she awoke mere minutes later, she was sure she was dreaming. Her idol, the unbreakable, amazing, and most importantly borderline realistic Indiana Jones was surrounded by…Aliens? What kind of sick joke was this? And was that his….Son? She shook her head, trying to chase the dreams from her eyes, but it was no use. This was what her idol had come to, a typical, supposedly heartwarming, jumping-the-shark ending that almost involved him passing down his trademark Fedora to some greasy-haired, Pony Boy wannabe. This couldn’t be happening. It was a travesty. Without Indy, she would have to settle for a typical idol or teenage nerds, Han Solo or Fox Mulder or even worse, Captain Kirk.

“That,” she said to no one in particular as they made their way out of the theater, “was insane. I can’t decide if I should laugh or cry.”

“I’m just glad he didn’t pass down that stupid hat,” Rhiannon replied as she skipped through the parking lot.

“He used to be so…Cool,” Logan said, looking down at his costume in shame. Was Dr. Jones even worth impersonating anymore?

They were all in shock. Sure, the beginning had been classic Indy, but aliens, really? It just didn’t make sense. Where were the holy grails and the human sacrifices? He didn’t even have to eat anything particularly nasty. And what’s so great about the crystal skulls and escaping nuclear explosions in a lead-lined refrigerator anyways? No, the old, classic Indy they remembered was gone, replaced by this wimpy imposter in a floppy Fedora.

“Cheer up kids,” Logan’s mom said on the painfully quiet ride home. “You’ll always have Star Wars.”

The End