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| Adventuring rule #19: Stick with your tribe. |
Today and for the rest of the night, social media outlets are abuzz with excitement. I anticipate more than one sighting of the Twitter failwhale. The demographic that uses these outlets the most is the same generation filled with bittersweet joy at the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II.
In the interest of full disclosure, I have not attended every midnight premiere of the Harry Potter films. I was eleven years old when “The Sorcerer’s Stone” was released in theatres, and if I thought I was going to dress up in dark robes to go to a movie at midnight with my friends, my parents would have informed me I had another think coming.
But was it even a tradition at that point to attend a midnight release? Not yet. That element was culled directly from the book’s culture, when eager readers waited in bookstores to have their hands on the most recent year of the series in hand as soon as it was legal for the stores to take their money. It was a clever bit of marketing to bring that concept to the movies, something other blockbusters have since noticed and capitalized on. Superhero movies are the most common to see as midnight premieres, along with the first three Pirates of the Caribbean films. It makes for an interesting sight when grown men and women in full on pirate regalia line up outside a multiplex for hours on end.
Nothing has quite caught the spirit of audiences like Harry Potter. It is a badge of honor to be among the first in line or to have the most elaborate set of robes. Friends already know one another’s assorted Houses and expect everyone to show up with the appropriate tie or scarf. At least a handful of true diehards have wands and glasses. I have witnessed one owl (a stuffed animal, I checked) in the arms of a very cheerful girl decked out in Ravenclaw colors. These are my people.
For years it was my tradition to spend a few hours in line with these people and with friends before the film began. We talk, we tease, and we speculate how particular scenes might play out. It’s a social event just as good as the movie itself. Last November I stood in line with my roommate, a true Harry fan if I ever knew one, and our understanding boyfriends, who were much less excited than we were about the movie but are always willing to sit next to us and hold our hands in dark theaters. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was to be my final midnight premiere of a Harry Potter movie.
At one point, I looked up from the news articles I was editing on the fly and took in the room. I remember being struck by the enthusiasm. These people I stood with are brave and spirited and eager to learn and I am proud to be a member of this generation.
Each one of them knows the feeling of refusing to sleep until the last page is turned, then being unable to sleep for hours because of their spinning brain. Each knows the anxious wait until one’s friends have finished the book so they can finally discuss every detail. We all have the same fansites favorited on our computers, like MuggleNet, and J.K. Rowling’s own site (plus upcoming Pottermore). We all share the same dawning realization that, through our excitement to finally witness the most epic chapter in the story, there are no more pages to turn. When the credits roll somewhere around 2 a.m. my tribe will wipe their tears and know the end has arrived.
For years it was my tradition to spend a few hours in line with these people and with friends before the film began. We talk, we tease, and we speculate how particular scenes might play out. It’s a social event just as good as the movie itself. Last November I stood in line with my roommate, a true Harry fan if I ever knew one, and our understanding boyfriends, who were much less excited than we were about the movie but are always willing to sit next to us and hold our hands in dark theaters. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was to be my final midnight premiere of a Harry Potter movie.
At one point, I looked up from the news articles I was editing on the fly and took in the room. I remember being struck by the enthusiasm. These people I stood with are brave and spirited and eager to learn and I am proud to be a member of this generation.
Each one of them knows the feeling of refusing to sleep until the last page is turned, then being unable to sleep for hours because of their spinning brain. Each knows the anxious wait until one’s friends have finished the book so they can finally discuss every detail. We all have the same fansites favorited on our computers, like MuggleNet, and J.K. Rowling’s own site (plus upcoming Pottermore). We all share the same dawning realization that, through our excitement to finally witness the most epic chapter in the story, there are no more pages to turn. When the credits roll somewhere around 2 a.m. my tribe will wipe their tears and know the end has arrived.
Where will I be at that precise moment? Not leaving a movie theatre among friends with whom I’ve shared this journey and with whom I will reminiscence about the wizarding world for years down the line. I will be in the Center for International Legal Studies in Salzburg, Austria, copyediting a forty-six page document on treaty laws. Midnight premeieres don’t happen in Austria, and very few films are screened in English. I won’t be seeing the final installment until I am back in California. The boy has promised to wait for me to come home so we can watch it together. I made him pinky swear over Skype.
I can watch the movies anytime. That won’t bother me. What I will miss is the time spent in pants-wetting excitement outside a movie theatre in the cold dark with friends who can’t stop smiling. So if you are there, ignore the hard concrete you’re sitting on. Shake the tiredness out of your feet. Hug your friends and your tribe. We will never have this day again.
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