I’ll never hike again

7/31/99

Guess what movie I saw tonight?

Busy day. John and I worked out together this morning. He pushed me harder than I push myself, and I’m going to be sore in the morning. Then we went shopping, bought movie tickets in advance, and went to party given by some of his friends/coworkers.

And that was nuts. So many people, most of them looked too much alike for me to tell them apart. The men had short-short hair and buff upper bodies. The women were ruddy with sunburn, with brown hair, brown eyes and the same hairstyle. There must have been four different women with the same hairstyle, all brown. And they all had kids. Too many kids for me.

Everyone asked me about my job. Many suggested jobs that I should look into. Many did so without asking if I had any training or experience, or possibly a college degree or two. Since I’ve lived here, it’s been suggested that I work for Geico Insurance, Frito Lay, McDonald’s (no shit,) and various doctors’ offices. Not that I have anything against those places. And I don’t mind the suggestions, either, really—especially if you’ve already given me one, thank you SO much, I really appreciate your concern for my employment. But I’m a musician. Nobody else here doubts his or her right to be playing in the Air Force Band. Not one of them has settled for a job in an insurance company. None of them has been faced with the choice that I have, the choice between my career in music and my husband.

They were really unbearably friendly, though. I had a good time, even though John’s nickname, “The Capoots,” has been extended to me: “The Capootses.” Forget about the tackiness issue—the nickname is based on John's last name, and I haven’t changed my name. Oh, and one clueless fellow pointed out that we’d been married over the leave and asked if we’d be having a child over the next one. Certainly not, especially after the exposure to youth and disciplinary techniques at that party. No way.

Oh, yeah. Blair Witch Project.

I will never enter a wooded area again. I was scared out of my mind. I don’t remember ever experiencing such fear during a movie. I’ve been surprised, horrified, and disgusted at movies, but I was genuinely frightened tonight. Fuck.

Three quarters of the way through the film, my fear was compounded when I remembered the last time I felt that heart-in-the-throat, animal panic. I was in the woods. And the woods in Michigan look a hell of a lot like the woods in Maryland. I knew that woods. I’d been walking home, from Okemos to Haslett, after the bus stopped running. I trudged up Okemos Rd. and through the little park by the railroad tracks. There was a tiny wooded area at the back of the park, and my apartment complex was just on the other side of the woods.

Ryan Getz had just disappeared. This college-aged guy disappeared on New Year’s Eve. He’d been fighting with someone that night, and was last seen in a similar wooded area in East Lansing. They found him four months later in the Red Cedar River, but he’d only been gone for a few days at this point.

It was dark by the time I reached the edge of the woods, but it was a long, long walk around the block, just to get to a point about 50 feet away. I tried to go through the woods. I clenched my keys, I strutted purposefully. I heard a branch snap. I froze. And then I turned and purposefully marched back out, back to the road, and around the goddamned block. I walked three miles out of my way, making five miles total that night.

Fright.

I’ll be just as cryptic as everyone else and not spoil the movie for anyone who hasn’t seen it, but--Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

At the end of the movie, the audience simply sat and watched the closing credits in silence. Silence.

No sound.

And when we walked out of the theater, we all had to step around the pool of vomit in the entryway. Some poor dude obviously couldn’t handle it in that scene when that chick found the...well, you know. I felt sick all the way home myself, from the adrenalin puddled in my system.

John, master of his emotions, was gripping my fingers and trembling at the end. We’d both read the reviews that said to pay attention to the beginning. A lot of people in the audience hadn’t, and so were puzzled when the movie ended. We knew.

Boy, did we know. I’m going to know over and over all night, every time I drift off. Fuck.