Well,
Here is a story I have delayed relating. Why? I don't know. It is important knowledge for you. Maybe, I just needed the right frame of mind, so to speak.
I will warn you ... now. Continuing to read this post will forever change your life! Don't take this as jive. You are the way you are now ... and after reading this, you will be different. And forever different.
OK, one more time. Right now, you are Person One, for example. After reading this post, you will be Person Two, to extend the example. And Person Two will not be the SAME. Be forewarned. And kiss your current self goodbye.
Story begins ...........................
It was many years ago ... I was a youth. BTW, I use the ellipsis effect a lot in this story. Get used to it.
I was only fifteen years old back then. I don't remember that, but there are pictures (OK, I used that line before ... I like it). I was a little tad in high school at the time. And during the summer, and even on the weekends of the regular school year, I had time to kill. Oh, and although it plays no part in this story, it is worth mentioning that I was a virgin. This plays a bigger part in stories to follow. Now, my father, bless his soul, always had at least two jobs; usually three or more. One of these was working as a 'field usher'. Now, we have to take our first, of many, full stops to explain this job title. Trust me, it will be worth it and interesting too. Much more interesting than the 'I was a virgin' stuff. Well, I was only 15 ... give me a break.
My father worked, part-time in the evenings per force, at a Drive-In Theater. Now I know you don't know (interesting grammatical construct) what a Drive-In Theater is. I will explain. There is this big field, out in the middle of nowhere, hopefully. The field has a BIG white screen at one end. It is designed to have movie films (from the department of redundancy department) shown on it. In the middle of the field is a building which contains two things - a projection booth and a refreshment stand - from now on referred to as the 'stand'. All around the projection booth/stand structure, and facing the screen, are spots for cars to park. They are angled up in such a way to make viewing the screen easy. Next to each parking spot is a metal pole, about four feet high,and on this pole are hung two speakers. The speakers will carry the sound portion of the movie, and the car owner is expected to neatly place the speaker on one of its windows.
The specific Drive-In Theater I worked at was the Whitestone Bridge Drive-In Theater, so called because it was on the approach to the Whitestone Bridge between the Bronx and Queens, New York.
My father was a 'field usher'. He came to work at about 6 PM every evening, and manned with a flashlight, would guide the cars into appropriate spots on the field. Families - those with young kids - would like to park into a spot near the 'stand', so as to be able to get tasty snacks like popcorn and soda and submarine meatball heroes, and to be near the playground, complete with a Ferris wheel, underneath the screen. Other cars would prefer to be further back on the field. Actually, there were some spots WAY in the back of the field that didn't even have speakers on the poles, or clear views of the screen. At 15, I didn't quite understand why someone, or someones', would want to park there. Stupid me, I know, I get it now.
Well, one day, they had a job opening at the Drive-In, for a 'field electrician'. They needed someone to come in during the day, and check out and replace the speakers on the poles. 12 to 5. I could only get a 'working permit' which allowed 12 to 5 work, and I sure as hell could replace a speaker on a pole. So I got the job.
There were 2000 spots at the W.B. Drive-In, with over 1000 poles. But I checked them all out every day. I used to play an AM radio station through the sound system - I couldn't play a movie soundtrack - usually WMCA, the Good Guys, boss 1960's music. I loved the job, although I got a heck of a sunburn walking the field every day.
And, although I had to clock out at 5 PM every day - btw, I earned .95 an hour - sweet - I would hang around to chat with the 'stand' people. They would come in to work at about 5 PM and prep the stand for that night's tasty food treats. They were mostly Hispanic, so we got along really well, as I knew a little Spanish, and this was the Bronx of course.
Now, this completes the preface to this story. Again, I warn you, don't continue if you don't want your life changed forever.
Continuing ... there were two big sellers at the stand, coke and popcorn. Oh, the submarine meatball heroes were big too, but not like the Coke and popcorn. The stand had a really nice looking popcorn machine. It was kind of like a unit where a little mechanical man cranked a pot full of popcorn and butter - really grease - and the popcorn would 'pop'. But there was no way that the little man was going to generate enough popcorn to satisfy the long lines of popcorn patrons during the brief intermission between the two movies. SO, popcorn was popped well in advance of the show, and then stored in the 'store room' behind the stand, for later use. The popcorn was stored in large 30-gallon plastic or metal containers - they were garbage cans, OK - until needed.
Now, just before the stand would open, the containers of pre-popped popcorn would be placed under the machine with the little mechanical man. And the stand workers would scoop down under the machine to scoop up some tasty popcorn into a container for the customer. Worked perfectly.
OK, get ready. Sorry.
At about five PM every day, the stand people would come in to prep the stand, and they would take out the containers of stored popcorn. They would open each container up, as I watched in fascination, and bop the container up and down, to settle the contents.
Thousands, ok maybe millions, of roaches would come flowing out of each container. So much so that the walls of the containers appeared to turn brown. They would scatter about, as we would have fun trying to stomp some of them.
Then, the containers would be placed under the popcorn machine.
All night long, people would come back to the stand to buy another tasty container of popcorn. 'Hmm, such good seasoning. So tasty, those little flecks of flavor.' Of course they were referring to the little wings and duty/doody (I never know how to spell that word) and other body parts in the popcorn. I always thought the jagged little legs would be a give away.
So, next time you have a tasty popcorn at the theater - by the way, all hardtops do the same with their popcorn - remember where that tasty flavor comes from.
Rich
