Wednesday, December 24, 2008

The Dark Side of Oz

The theatre grew and began to stand out from the rest of the yellow clubs and venues that cluttered the street. It was Friday and Bloor was alive with all sorts of life: young people, drunk on their own high strung chemicals, vagrants and those who dressed like vagrants, and fifty somethings who'd wandered too far from Bay and the comfortable safety of the Southern reaches. The flashing bulbs on the theatre sign blinked heroically, as if they knew they were born to do this. We approached cautiously, swaying a little with the liquor and the leftover vertigo from ridding the subway. The lineup we heard about was grandly exaggerated and we were quickly herded to the ticket booth.

"I'll have what she's having", I said, motioning to the girl who just purchased her ticket for Darkside.

"Dude, there's only one cinema inside." The dreadlocked hipster was looking at me as if I were lost. There was confusion is his eyes, and he must have thought I was new to this horrifying wilderness. Well I was. So what. Fuck him.

"I knew that, son," I barked. "It was a joke. All a joke. Just give me the ticket and let me loose before I set the pigs on you."

We moved from the ticket line to a longer line, where people were waiting to enter. A general consensus of mood hung in the air. It was one of anticipation, and mutual respect.

 

"Yes, we. We are here to consume great quantities of liquor and drugs and unleash ourselves into this nightmare trip...Darfur and Iraq and Tibet be damned.Twist me! Give me Oz damnit..."

 

The doors opened and groups of people were herded inside, ten and fifteen at a time. A street rough man in his thirties looked hard into my face and nodded, and let me advance to a second set of doors where a strange man with a glazed look checked my ticket.

"Go on then," he muttered strangely, and ripped my ticket.

 

"Upstairs everyone, head up! We'll sit on the balcony and get a hell of a view." That was Malorie, or Michelle, I can't remember.

 

There was confusion about where to sit, and it took some time for someone to assume a position as decision maker. We settled on a lower left side section near the front of the balcony. Being new to this jungle, I was surprised at how well maintained the theatre seemed. Settling into my seat, I decided I needed a piss and so I rose again. Climbing the steps was not as easy as descending with a head full of rum. The subway had really spun me and I nearly toppled a few times, zig zagging up the aisle.

 

I pissed and returned to my seat. Everywhere I looked, teenagers and young, jagged drug people were unpacking glass water bongs and huge marijuana cigarettes. The electric tension was once again in the air as everyone held their breath for Dorothy and Toto and that stunningly bleak Kansas.

 

"I FUCKED DOROTHEEEEE," someone shouted from across the dark space. Then someone else responded, and before long, they'd fucked The Witch, and The Tin Man and someone near the back row had even sodomized Toto. I highly doubted the truth of these statements however. I'd ask questions later.

 

And then the lights dimmed and the rich, red pleated curtains rose and a hush fell. The electric hiss and crackle grew and bloated until suddenly, the sound of a single Bic broke the silent static. One Bic and then another and then three and ten and then hundreds roared to life and the sound of smoke through water and paper filled the air. Lungs filled with dense clouds of carbon and THC and everyone's eyes snapped to the screen. Music or sound began to fill the air, competing with the already massive cloud of smoke, caught by the light of the projector. Speak To Me/Breath opened, slowly of course. I felt small. But I was also drunk.

 

Someone handed me a bottle and I looked down. Smirnoff.

"Where's the pop?" I asked. I couldn't look away though...

"Here." A bottle of Diet Coke landed in my lap and I was too stunned to care about the aspartame. I hadn't seen this movie in probably fifteen years. And now here I was, and here we all were, hundreds of potheads and drunks and faded out old acid freaks who couldn't let go. I drank deeply from the vodka and chased it. Here I was...

 

*Maybe more later.....* 

No comments:

Post a Comment