Remove Lid
I recently had the misfortune of spending a day in San Diego, where, as the Sunset Valley song says, it really is “hot as fuego.” It was a beautiful SoCal afternoon, full of bright sunshine, blue skies, and brown grass. Needless to say, I decided to go to the movies. The nearest theater was in a gigantic outdoor shopping mall, on the other end of a neighborhood bordered by an airport and the Pacific Ocean.
This being wartime, my quest for entertainment was interrupted, albeit temporarily, by a protest. Hundreds of San Diegans, brandishing placards, posters, and prayer cards, had gathered on a single block of downtown sidewalk to air their antiwar sentiments. They were crammed in front of the local NBC affiliate, KNSD, whose studios are equipped with a picture window onto the street, where a camera captures images of real life, in real time. The demonstration, of course, sought to disrupt the delicate balance of tourists and shoppers by filling the screen with “Impeach Bush” signs and other liberal ephemera. Fair enough, but this noble manifestation of free speech stood between me and a United Artists multiplex.
Rather than cross the street, I decided to traverse the blockade by diving into it headfirst. I didn’t feel entirely disingenuous; after all, I too have my doubts about our government’s actions. No one needed to know I was just passing through en route to the seat of commercial culture. As the chanting swirled around me, I wondered silently what time Old School might be starting.
I soon found myself staring into the TV camera, presumably being broadcast, or at least recorded for FBI review. And then it hit me: I was walking through a war protest to get to a shopping mall to go to a movie, any movie, even though I knew in my heart that whatever movie I wound up seeing would almost certainly be crappy. I was just trying to erase hours from a too hot, too sunny day. I was reminded of the woman who reportedly had a nervous breakdown in a supermarket when she read the following printed instructions: “To open jar, remove lid.”
By the time I got to the mall, my desire to see a movie had been replaced by contempt for myself and my surroundings. Naturally, the protesters had been conscious of, and probably galvanized by, their proximity to the bastion of consumption. The mall shoppers, by contrast, were totally oblivious, not just to the demonstration a block away, but apparently to the war that inspired it, as well. They were just erasing hours, too. Creeping up the escalator, I got the idea to start writing a column about the quest for entertainment, and the degree to which it can dominate one’s consciousness. I don’t know exactly what the column will encompass, other than an attempt to unmoor myself from my own entertainment habits–by way of travel, discipline, and force, if necessary. And you know, the occasional DVD review. Watch this space.
