Goin' Out To Cally – Part 41, Cinematic Fixes and Inner Gastric Mixes

Our next day in California was relatively uneventful. We spent a lot of time doing laundry and getting ready for the trip home. Beth had a friend who lived in San Francisco, so instead of hanging out a few more days in L.A. and heading back to Florida the way we came, as we had planned, we instead decided to take a quick trip up the Pacific Coast Highway to San Fran so Beth could visit her friend. We’d then head back down toward Los Angeles before taking a left and going east… heading home.

As our day of housekeeping continued I was getting restless. But why? I’ve been on the road for what seemed like months, over ate at Aunt Patsies, threw up at Tucumcari, hiked the Grand Canyon, had lunch with a real life movie producer, visited two major universities and went to two theme parks.

Yet something was missing.

Movies. That was it. I needed a movie fix. See, I have a problem… I’m an official movie freak. I watch movies a lot. Too much. I’ll give you an example.

When I was in sophomore in high school Raiders of the Lost Ark was released in theaters. Later that summer the film ended up at Gateway Mall’s General Cinema, where admission was $1. I loved Raiders… truly loved it. It was so well written, produced by my Star Wars hero, George Lucas, directed by my favorite living director, Steven Spielberg… it exceeded all of my high expectations.

That summer of ’81 Raiders ended up playing at the dollar theater all summer long. During those ninety or so days I would often do my best to scrounge together four quarters and ride my bike the fifteen or so miles, plop down in the theater and melt into the seat. The tinny drums of the General Cinema (listen HERE) opening became an opiate as I watched Raiders over and over and over again.

Click on Picture to Watch

I wasn’t alone in this addiction. All of our buddies from our church youth group, including Tim, were involved in this sad display of uncontrollable cinematic fascination. For all of us it was our Rocky Horror Picture Show. We knew the character’s lines, knew the number painted on the side of the German submarine… we knew everything. In the near empty theater we would speak the lines aloud and joke openly amongst ourselves.

If I were an adult, as I am today, in that theater with my teenage friends, I would have killed them… we were so selfish and inconsiderate. But, for us, it was so much fun and is something I will never forget.

I’m guessing I’ve probably seen Raiders over 100 times… almost 50 alone in the summer of ’81.

So, having gone ten full days without a true cinematic fix, I was starting to twitch. That night we went to the local movie house and paid twice as much for tickets as was the price in Florida. The movie, unfortunately, was Cocktail, starring Tom Cruise and Elizabeth Shue. It was kinda entertaining, but in the end I felt like I just lost 104 minutes of my life that I’d never get back. It did feed my cinematic need, however, so I was satisfied.

When we got back to the house, Sunday went in to call Dave again while Beth, Tim and I stayed outside in the front yard drinking Pepsi and engaging in an impromptu burping contest. I was never a great burper… not like my brother Charles. Growing up he was one of the lucky ones that could swallow air and burp on command. I was so envious!

My Mom was a closet burper. She used to burp, but hold it in. Do you know what that sounds like? It sounds like an old fashioned coffee percolator. Remember that sound as the coffee pushed it’s way to the top… like someone in pre-vomit mode? It took a few years, but I eventually convinced my Mom to let ‘er rip when God’s natural release had built up inside of her. When she did, it was amazing. She was truly talented! She could medal in the Gastric Vault. She can burp better than anyone else I’ve ever met. Eventually, whenever she’d rip a good, deep burp, Mom and I would share a congratulatory high-five to celebrate her God-given talent.

Beth, Tim and I downed our Pepsi with reckless abandon. We’d swig and burp and swig and burp. The contest for best burp was close until Beth let out a long and deep one with such force it blew our hair back.

I sighed fondly and thought of Mom.

Tim was so impressed with her upper gastric release that he stood and stumbled down the front yard toward the street. His plan was to fall clumsily into the bushes. He had planned wrong.

Tim had forgotten that the front bushes where actually atop a cement ledge that rose four feet above the sidewalk below. So, Tim fell into the bushes… and then disappeared. Beth and I heard a THUD and we looked at each other concern.

Tim hopped up, unscathed, throwing his chest and arms out like a gymnast after a dismount.

Beth and I burst into laughter.

The night continued with a lot of cola guzzling, stupid jokes and hearty laughter. It would end up being the last time we would share such intimate, silly fun for years to come.

And so ended the eleventh day on our trip to Cally.

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Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)
Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)