Festival Cinemas will be no more by the year’s end. The final curtain indeed.
Memories of my years there drift through my mind. The friends I made, the movies I saw, the work I did. Running the projector, cleaning the butter machines, sweeping up candy wrappers, popping the popcorn. The sticky gum on carpets, the click of the film, the soda streaming down the floors of the auditorium. The smell of popcorn, fresh or burning. Cherry coke at every break.
The boys I loved and lost and hated. I still remember them all.
The girls who became like sisters and are my friends still. We ruled that little world for a time.
The picnics, Great America, late night showings just for us, then Carrows for some nachos or shakes.
Watching the cars drive by on Hesperian Boulevard while tearing tickets. The lines outside for those big movies. Security for those theatre jumpers.
Threatened at gunpoint by a crazed young man for money he didn’t even have a bag for.
Finally, my last day. Five years, five months, and twenty-three days later.
That was eight years, three months ago.
Farewell, Festival Cinemas…
