Later I had to walk downtown past our local bookstore to do some work at my shop. As I approached the bookstore I saw our local Harry Potter fan dutifully lined up just liken a big city folk. Partying no doubt. (Can one person be considered a line?) When I got closer his girlfriend had joined him, a copy of The Order of the Phoenix tucked under her arm. Look out reading material! - The party grows.
I don’t know if she’ll stay until midnight, as they appeared to be fighting. Maybe the magic has gone out of their love life. He cast a “dirty muggle” spell at her and she countered with the “I don’t care if you do call your weasel Ron…” incantation. I got out of there before he (or she) yanked out his wand.
It just seems kind of tragic that in the midst of world wide Harry Potter madness all we little town folk can manage to gather is a couple of bickering nerds. Perhaps our isolation (or fear of crowds) has driven the local fans to order their copies from Amazon. If so, it is a shame for it deprives us of a moment of togetherness. That fact that we can’t seem to enjoy even the simplest little things that people from larger centers take for granted makes me sad. Simple things like line-ups.
Since I have lived here I have never been able to gather enough people to from a good healthy bone jostling line-up. I have never had the privilege to share a crowded sidewalk with a group of heavyset men who have just eaten at a Greek restaurant. I never met a stranger in such a hurry to dance to the latest hip-hop number that she felt it necessary to poke me in the ribs while pushing her way into the latest hotspot. Our latest hotspot was opened in 1976 and was repainted in 1987 and again in 1998. Beige.
We do have signs of big city influence; yesterday someone defaced our local ally with graffiti. They wrote (in a very tidy script) “I like breasts” in black spray paint. As a result a lady trapped me in my shop to complain about the outrage. As a director with the BIA I had to listen to ten minutes of “the town is going to hell in a hand basket.” I countered that traveling by hand basket is not only relaxing but also environmentally friendly. The line was not well received and I was given the “snort”. Yes, people still snort at you in small towns. It’s not a threateningly vague “I going to kill you if I ever see you again” big city kind of snort. It’s that quaint little town “I know where you live and I going to throw a rock through your window while you sleep” kind of snort that you can count on. I guess it’s that kind of steadfastness that keeps us here.
When I walked home the line-up for Harry Potter had grown to four people. It is expected to reach into the tens by midnight. I may walk down and have a look. Maybe jump in and get a little jostle. Who knows, it may be a sign that we are growing up. Just like Harry.
not cool to give it away if you know but what are you gonna do?
