Darth Vader, Playground Monitor
The North Side of the city I live in is quiet, safe, the kind of place where parents let their kids walk to school and schools walk their kids to the sleepy cinema down the street. People get hype about films, sure, but they usually take their hype to the IMAX theater across town.
Which is how, when I woke up on the day of the Star Wars premiere, completely ticketless, I was able to post this Facebook status:
Only work stood between me and LUKE SKYWALKER OH MY GOD.
So, like any responsible teacher would, I wore my costume to school.
“My friend and I wrote down what we think the story of it will be,” aptly-named redhead Ben told me. “I illustrated it.” I flipped through his carefully printed plotline, which mostly consisted of Kylo Ren looking menacing while stormtroopers loitered in the background. Fair enough.
“Are you going to see the movie?” another kid asked. Yes, I said. “At North?” Yes. “At SEVEN?” His eyes were as wide as Luke’s when Darth Vader dropped that paternity truth bomb.
Thus, I spent the night before our last day of the semester in a darkened theater with that kid and his little sister, watching something beautiful and wondrous unfold on the big screen. I laughed; I cried; I screamed (heck, I was doing a lot of that when they played the Star Trek, Fantastic Beasts, X-Men, AND Civil War trailers before the film began).
I fell in love again.
Incoherent spoilerific reactions under the cut: