BACKROOMS, OBSESSION, and WHAM!

Once in a while, Brugger and I both feel a hankering to go to the drive-in theater in Eden, about a half-hour down the way, and last night was one of those times. Over the years, we've had some lovely experiences there as well as some that were anything but up to snuff. Happily, last night was a winner...well, until the trip home.

The Eden Drive-In has two screens—the original, full-size screen and a more recent, pint-size screen with a correspondingly smaller parking area. The Mandalorian & Grogu played last weekend and was still on for this weekend, so we decided to check it out, since we both loved the series. However, once we arrived at the theater—about an hour and a half early—we learned it was playing on the small screen (it had played on the main screen last week), and that smaller lot was already damn-near full. On the big screen, they had Backrooms and Obsession, so we figured, well, fuggit, let's check them out. I'd heard good things about both from friends and fellow writers who'd seen them, and... hey... horror movies and drive-in theaters naturally go together. Huzzah!

 

It was a beautiful evening, and as it got darker, the breeze turned chillier... and chillier. We'd had the foresight to bring layers, so... hey, we felt happier than happy to get a break from the recent once-unseasonal heat. As the sun set, the sky turned all kinds of colors, and come full-on dusk, a bright full moon hung overhead. The perfect setting for us.

 

Backrooms was, to me, utterly brilliant — rather Lynchian, I thought, as if it sprang from the darkest heart of the Black Lodge. It's kind of the inverse of real life: a nightmare film, in which conventional reality occasionally asserts itself. Obsession similarly hit a level of intensity that I found disconcerting.in the extreme. Ms. B. preferred Obsession, while I preferred Backrooms, but that was all a matter of degree. We both loved both.

 

The only tragic part of all this was that, heading home on the rural backroads, I ended up hitting a deer. We'd seen loads of them along the way, so I was driving pretty slowly, but nevertheless, one came bounding out across the road at full tilt, and that was all she wrote. So, sadly...one dead deer. The damage to my car was minimal, but it's still going to require some body work, which is an expense we can ill-afford at the moment.

 

I hate hitting animals. Almost ironically, back in 2015, Kimberly hit a deer on the way home from that very same drive-in (see "Deer Damage"). In her case, the accident caused extensive damage to her car. Perhaps ironically, we'd been talking about that incident while we were waiting for the movies to start. Alas. Anyway, I feel horrible for the deer, and despite the pain the ass, pretty lucky that the accident wasn't any worse.

 

We had such a lovely evening, we decided that it was going to be our takeaway from it. Now, we're really looking forward to another drive-in movie night.

 

Peace out.

What a Waste

On Valentine's Day, 2020, Ms. B. and I were going out to dinner when a very impaired young fellow named Austin Mabry smashed into my car while we were sitting at a stoplight. He was immediately arrested on the scene, and I was called to be a witness at his court appearance. He didn't show up.

Since then, he has apparently faced numerous other drug-related charges, and the local police have been looking for him for a while. A short time ago, they found him dead in the crawlspace under a building not far from here. Doesn't sound like foul play; I suspect an overdose.

By all indications, he was the consummate waste of flesh. Still, I can't help but find it tragic for someone that young to be so fucked up. And now gone. Of course, this shit happens every day, but having experienced this kid up close and personal, that twinge of sadness isn't so abstract. He wasn't really a "kid," but for me, it's hard to think of him otherwise.

February 14, 2020: A Smashing Valentine's Day

The Tale of the Not-So-Stable Door Bash Victim

Notice the extensive damage to the driver's side door. Holy cowz, my daughter packs a powerful wallop!

I suppose I am fortunate that I've rarely had to deal closely with the mentally unstable face to face. My temper isn't as quick to rise as it used to be, but that doesn't mean I'm thoroughly mellow in certain situations.

This morning, I took my daughter to the grocery store (the Druid Hills Food Lion in Martinsville), and when she got out, her car door bumped the driver's side door of the car next to us. Gently enough that Allison didn't even realize she had bumped it. Well, she didn't until the woman in the car came out screaming — and "screaming" is an understatement — that Allison had bashed her door on purpose and fucked up her car. Now, I looked at the woman's car door and my car door; there was not even a nick on either. I asked the woman to please lighten up, it was an accident, and there was absolutely no damage — not even a stray fleck of paint — on either car.

Oh, but we'd have none of that. Now, I get "YOU MOTHERFUCKER, JUST BECAUSE MY CAR IS A PIECE OF SHIT* DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN BASH IT WITH YOUR CAR DOOR!"

"Ma'am, it was an accident, my daughter apologized, and your car is fine."

"THAT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER, AND MY CAR IS NOT FINE! YOU FUCKED UP THE DOOR!"

At this point, I confess I called her a twit.

Allison went into the store, and I moved my car to another spot for fear yonder loon might start bashing mine. After a few minutes, she came over to get my license plate number, so I went over to her car, took a photo of the massively extensive damage to her door (see above), recorded her license plate number (VA #UHD 9382, for the record), and offered to call the police if she had a problem.

More screaming and hysterics. I was sufficiently rattled that I failed to make a video of this. I did, however, have Brugger on the line, so she was treated to the entire exchange. I finally told our excitable victim of car door bashing that she was unstable and got back in my car.

Once Allison came out of the store, I took her home. However, since I hadn't been comfortable leaving my car unattended, I never did get what I needed at the store, so I went back up the road. Our favorite lady was still in the parking lot, now gesticulating wildly to two fellows (I'm guessing husband and son) at the extensive damage following our spectacular collision. By their expressions, they were stunned — STUNNED — that someone could have fucked up her car so severely. At least one of them went back into the store. Now, since unstable people make me nervous and ornery, and I really didn't want to get into the position of doing something I might regret,** I just left and picked up lunch elsewhere.

I trust that will be the end of it. Well, other than writing it up here and hopefully making you glad that someone other than you had to deal with this particular unhinged human specimen.

*Well, there were lots of dings on her car (none, zero, nada from mine), which together appeared to paint a detailed portrait of a long history of dinging.

**Knowing me, I might have.

Unsmashing

Before

After

Q Branch got the Toyota back together (see "A Smashing Valentine's Day," February 15, 2020). As it turns out, the fellow who hit me had insurance after all, so the repair work didn't cost me anything. I do have to go to court as a witness regarding the accident, which will require time off from work and a trip to Martinsville. If I lived farther away, that might be problematic, so I guess I'm glad I don't live farther away. Anyway, now I'm going to be paranoid every time I stop at a red light. Perhaps it would behoove me not to.

The owls are not what they seem.

A Smashing Valentine's Day

After a mighty nice Valentine's Day dinner at The Third Bay in Martinsville, Ms. B. and I are stopped at a red light. Car comes from the left, makes a wide turn to the right, and — wham! Dumb-ass slams right into the front of my car. Crunches up the fender and headlight pretty good.

The fellow claimed his brakes locked up. However, he did appear impaired, and when the police arrived — happily, in short order — they arrested him immediately after running his credentials. He claimed he had insurance, but it appears to have expired. I expect he'll have a rough ride coming up, and it would seem deservedly so. Fortunately, Ms. B. and I are fine, but getting the car taken care of may take a while.

In any event, my takeaway from this is to never stop at a red light.

Deer Damage

One deer: dead (R.I.P., deer). One Mazda 3: a bit cracked up.

Helluva scare for Ms. B. late last night — or rather, in the wee hours this morning. Kimberly and I wanted to hit the Eden Drive-In this weekend, and as I've been in Martinsville helping look after Mum, we decided just to meet in Eden. Poltergeist and Mad Max: Fury Road were showing, which looked like a fun enough double bill. The former movie — hardly unexpectedly — was in dire need of a writer, a director, some actors... you know, movie stuff and all, and Mad Max was pretty decent, much on par with The Road Warrior. The burgers at the Eden Drive-In are to die for, by the way. (I know, I know; under the circumstances, that might not be the best use of hyperbole, but there it is.) Afterward, we departed in our respective vehicles, but it was only a few minutes later that I received a call from an understandably rattled Kimberly. Something — she knew not what — had slammed into her car and shattered the windshield. As I hurried back to meet her, some distance shy of where she was pulled off the road, I encountered a good-size dead deer: clearly, the cause of the upset. By the time I reached her, only a couple of minutes later, a pair of officers were already on the scene.

Now we got to take a good look at her vehicle, and the damage was far more extensive than it initially appeared. Shattered windshield. Broken rear-view mirror. Dented side panel. And crunched rear door. Thankfully, apart from her nerves, Kimberly was fine. The car is going to need some serious medical attention, but I reckon that's better than one of us needing it. Almost ironically, on our way to the theater, we had seen a deer bounding across the highway at top speed and remarked on it — at almost exactly the same location of her accident. Not out on a country road, mind you, but on the main highway through Eden.

As an aside, it was very refreshing, after seeing so much negative about the police lately, that the law enforcement officers who responded — the local sheriff and a deputy — were prompt, sympathetic, cordial as can be, and quick to provide an official report in case it's needed for Kimberly's insurance. My hat's off to those folks.

On my drive back to Martinsville, which did involve some lonely back roads, deer were everywhere, and no less than three darted out in front of my car. All of this is a stern reminder how fast the unexpected can happen, and how severe the damage can be from a single deer strike. It could have been much worse, too. The critters are out there, you know, and they might just have your number. Beware!