The clubs at the GSU turned even the strongest into mindless zombies that were willing to give their emails for a flimsy tote bag with too short straps. Yet I couldn’t waste time becoming one of them. I had a journey to embark on – getting to the AMC for my one-of-three government mandated movie showing of the week. I was done with classes and needed to get my money’s worth as a member with AMC. Usually, a trip to AMC is simple: get on the green line, STAY ON the green line, and get off after 20 minutes at Boylston. While the movie didn’t start for another 45 minutes, I realized my mistake: the green line was down until Copley. And the alternate route? I would have to transfer and get off 3 different times in order to arrive at my destination.
I wanted to cancel then and there, take the L and take a N (nap), but mamma raised no quitter! While I had to get creative with avoiding the witches trying to get me to sign up (I couldn’t my usual “esorry, I don’t speak english” that my mom taught me when I was younger), it was easy enough to weave through the crowd. And after a few minutes of waiting (the BUS really likes taking its time), I was able to get to Kenmore station for my next mode of transport.
During this layover, I began being accosted by a man… wearing an eyepatch. He began throwing whatever he had on hand at me – pebbles, beer cans, cigarette butts, traffic cones. I could not figure out why, oh why, I was being bombarded this way until the one eyed man began yelling: “Ya suck. Red Sox for life!” Ahh, looking down, my apparel seemed to give me away – My 2022 World Series Astros Jersey. It made sense, the man was still resentful of the Astros for beating out the Red Sox that year. It’s not my fault we were better!
Thankfully, my salvation came in the form of a yellow Yankee bus (the irony) and off I was again, speeding through the wild streets of Boston in an attempt to arrive to my screening on time. 25 minutes before showtime. I was making great time! I wasn’t even attacked for my shirt when I got off for my final transfer – the green line.
In my attempt to find where the Copley station was located, I was swayed away by the eatery I hadn’t seen in months – Chick-fil-a. Her red curves enthralled me, made me yearn for a taste of home, and forced me into her clutches. It whispered in my ear Eat Mor Chikin. Like the fool I was, I listened. I put in my order and ate. Yet as I attempted to leave, I felt like a bit more chicken couldn’t hurt. For the road. But the road to where? I wondered. No where else seemed as good as here. Yet before I could self-restrict myself to the eatery, I was awaken by the notification on my phone. Lisa Frankenstein, 1 PM. Crikey, I only had 15 minutes left before the movie began!
I snapped out of it and booked it to Copley station, with a new found energy coursing through me. I got on the T as the doors began to close and allowed myself to relax. I was almost there. The road was long, tiresome, but I was able to make it. As I emerged from the underground tunnel that was Boylston, I saw the majestic sign. IMAX. AMC THEATERS.
I entered the sacred temple and was greeted as the esteemed guest that I was: an AMC Stubs A-List member. I was then met with my true goddess, my patron, my love, Nicole Kidman. She allowed me to do what I scarcely let myself do – to laugh, to cry, to care – as she commanded the lights to dim. She was the one true goddess of cinema, and I was merely a loyal disciple.
And now, as the movie concluded, I must return to my dorm – my home – as there are people that eagerly expect my return. Surely nothing more can happen now that the sun has set in Boston.