Tuesday, December 4, 2007

The Aftermath

It was a grim weekend.

After the indicent with my car window, I understandably withdrew into a cocoon of shock and grief, drowning my sorrows in glass after glass of Lactaid with Ovaltine—it dissolves so much better than Nesquik, and instead of being the color of chocolate it’s more like the purple of A-Rod’s lips, and who wouldn’t want a little $300+ million in their mouth? (I don’t know what my price is, but let’s be honest, it would fit cozily into that budget)—all while my special ladyfriend traipsed around New York city, torrential downpours swamped the island, and my fantasy basketball team continued to have an atrocious free throw percentage; the days were long, and the resultant sentences apparently even longer.

(That last sentence brought to you by Commas, Dashes, Parentheses, and Semi-Colons: making long sentences interminable since English was called ‘Engliscgereorde’! Oh snap, did I just bust out the Old English on your ass? You bet your assa, modorforliger! )

But the car’s broken window was eventually fixed—by my ruthlessly efficient grandfather, Don Cheo, who can somehow arrange for a car window to be fixed, pick up the car to go take it to be fixed, have it fixed, and then call you seventeen times to tell you that it’s fixed… all before the sun comes up… on a Saturday—and with it, my will to live, or at least to look elsewhere for a copy of John Carpenter’s The Thing, that holiest of grails in my lamest of quests. So I drove the newly-repaired car over to my local Blockbuster video, where I hadn’t been in years, and which, after falling on such hard times that I forsook it completely (what finally made me so mad as hell that I refused to take it anymore was, ironically, the fact that they did not have a copy of Network in stock, which, believe it or not, is completely true), has made a truly miraculous recovery. Indeed, the Hato Rey Blockbuster was so well-stocked and rejuvenated that I will tentatively put forward the opinion that this particular Blockbuster is at its own personal (as it were) apogee, offering an even greater selection than it did in the halcyon days of its grand opening in the early 90’s, when it replaced the previous occupant of its locale, the inadvertently hilariously-named S & M supermarket (seriously).

After parking my car in the brightest parking spot on the lot—parking inside the store itself being unreasonably frowned upon, in my opinion—I took a lap around the interior of the store, finding not one but TWO copies of The Thing, a very good selection of older films overall, and a Transformers edition of Monopoly on sale (just sitting there, basking in the celestial glow of God’s love and favor).

Feeling the hot, tearing bite of a good thing on my ass, I secured a membership immediately, rented The Thing, and immediately hauled ass to my now ex-video place, where I essentially flung my last rental (the first disc of Season 1 of Prison Break, which I got for my grandfather, whose enthusiasm for window replacement vastly outstripped his interest in Prison Break) out of my car window so that I could continue to have a car window at the end of the transaction. And so, to follow is a brief list of things that I will not miss about my old video store, the Video Avenue on Muñoz Rivera Ave.:

1. Persons unknown breaking my car window.

2. The big “Video Drop” box outside the store, which for years has been locked and not open for eponymous video drops therein, which I shudder to think what prompted that inexplicable decision, and I’m thinking bodily fluids of some sort.

3. Speaking of bodily fluids, the fact that the parking lot, in addition to being a place where people break your car windows and yet don’t have the decency to rid you of Il Divo and Andrea Bocelli, always smelled like a sewer line somewhere had been busted, most likely because of the sewer line that was busted in said parking lot, which as far as I can tell has been busted for a good two years.

4. The taunting presence of four separate cash registers, no more than one of which was ever in use at any given moment, even though the line was often so long that people were simply lined up right through the middle of the Action section and thus had to pass by the entire Jean Claude Van Damme ouvre, from Bloodsport to Universal Soldier: The Return (the original Universal Soldier being inexplicably absent from the collection, although several copies of Legionnaire always seem to be on hand).

Although I am excited to be back to frequenting the Blockbuster, today’s visit was not without ominous portents. For example, as I left the Blockbuster, I was asked for money by a guy named Michael, who just needs a little cash because he lost his construction job the other day. Thing is, Michael has been losing this same construction job for about 15 years now, and though he seems mostly to split his time between that Blockbuster and the Pueblo down the street, it is not outside the realm of possibility that he was the one that busted my window at the other place, given that it’s only a few blocks away. Perhaps I should have asked him for my mother’s IPod, which was taken, as so many other young IPods of its generation, before its time, at the Hato Rey Video Avenue.

3 comments:

Adrian said...

I love this blog.

Adrian said...

And I totally know exactly who that dude is, tho I must say that after a decade or so of being accosted by him in the Blockbuster parking lot, I don't believe he's ever told me his name, or if he has, it hasn't been Michael.

Katie said...

I like your long sentence. Punctuation rules!