A Damp Good Time at the Movies

I sprawled across the blue comforter and gazed into the star-speckled sky. It was the middle of August, but I wore a hooded sweatshirt underneath my jacket. Next to me, Eric Meyers, my future roommate, munched on his four-dollar polish sausage; the scent of onions permeated the cool autumn air. Only a few faint whispers could be heard among the crowd. The straggling gray clouds disappeared into the night, and the movie began.

That night was our fourth consecutive Tuesday in Grant Park to watch a free movie during the 5^th Annual Chicago Outdoor Film Festival. On Past Tuesdays nights, we had seen “The Birds”, “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner”, and “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington”. Tonight’s feature was “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”. The first week we went downtown I was hesitant. Since I wasn’t a movie buff, the movies they played just seemed old and boring. Luckily, Britt Refakes (event-planner extraordinaire, and a friend of mine since high school) convinced me to attend. By that fourth week I realized, even though the movies were quite good, they could have shown footage of paint drying on the big screen, and I would have enjoyed it. Britt understood before anyone that it wouldn’t just be the movie that made our trip worthwhile.

Just when Dr. Miles and Becky started running from the pods, my attention to the movie was diverted by the lady beside me. She fumbled through her purse and pulled out an umbrella. The sky darkened, and the light breeze changed to a chilling wind. A soft thunder could be heard in the distance, slowly rumbling toward us. Despite the warning signs of a fast approaching storm, we decided not to go home early. That evening was one of the last nights we all could spend time together. Summer was ending, and soon we’d all have to say our goodbyes as we left for college.

We sat on the damp blue comforter and watched the conclusion of the movie. The park emptied while a light drizzle misted the audience. This wasn’t too bad, I thought. In fact, if I was here on a date, it would be quite romantic- my lady and I, cuddling close under the autumn stars as the soft rained danced upon our skin. In my mind I constructed the perfect lady to lie in the rain with, but I didn’t get past her long flowing blond hair before a dagger of lightning pierced the sky, and shook me from my romantic fantasy.

I placed my phone in my inside jacket pocket, and quickly folded up the comforter. Grant Park, which moments earlier had been filled with civilized movie patrons, became like the hallways of an elementary school on the day before summer vacation as the crowd dashed through the soaked field toward the exit.

Sheets of rain whipped down from the sky. I cringed as pellets of rain hit my body, each one colder than the last. Amid the downpour, and the commotion of the crowd, I heard Kevin yell, “I missed my Dad’s phone call while I was in the bathroom, but he left a voice mail, he said there’s a severe thunderstorm and tornado warning, and we should take the early train home.”

I trudged through the lagoon that had been Grant Park toward him, “When you get home, tell him he was right.”

The beautiful skyline which served as the backdrop for the movie became a distant, foggy blur.

I felt the clench of Britt’s wet hand upon my arm as she tried to follow us through the throng of people. Water dripped from my hair, and the damp musky air filled my nostrils. As I ran, my jeans wrapped tightly around my legs; our clothes had become sponges.

Despite the weight of the rain, I never felt weighed down. There was no anxiety about college that night, no concerns about separating from friends, and no fear of growing up. I no longer cared if I was dry. The sky above me acted as a strobe light, the lightning constantly flashed and gave light to the dark city night. In the flashes of light I saw joy on the faces of my friends, and sandwiched between the pounds of thunders I heard true laughter. We were downtown, late at night, soaked, wandering through unfamiliar streets- a parents’ nightmare- and we loved every minute of it.

When we finally washed ashore at the La Salle St. Station, the air conditioning slapped me across the face and sent shivers up my spine. To avoid further sickness, we sat outside on the platform and waited for the next train. We looked at each other as water trickled off our skin and pattered on the cement.

We were no longer being trounced by the storm, but from where we sat we heard the rain pounding on the sidewalk, and the thrashing of car tires through puddle-laden streets. Kevin’s upper lip was painted pale blue. Britt’s three-page list of things she needed for college was smeared and soiled beyond repair. The 0 and 7 button on my phone no longer worked. None of that mattered, and none of us complained about being wet or cold. We talked about the movie, the rain, the summer, school, friends, love, and life. We sat outside that train station for close to an hour, waiting for the last train home. I secretly hoped it would never come.

When I got home, and waddled upstairs, I remembered what I asked Britt the first time she asked me to go downtown. “Couldn’t we just rent the movie?” Britt chuckled, “No, no, no,” she said, “It won’t be as fun.”