After a pretty intense workday that included more meetings than I usually have in a month, I picked up a salad for dinner and ate it in my hotel room. Afraid that I would lose all motivation to leave and explore more of my surroundings, I snarfed down the salad and quickly left.
I might have mentioned this is in a previous blog post, but I love the movie Twister (1996 with Helen Hunt, Bill Paxton and Philip Seymour Hoffman among many others). It's one of those movies that was probably made to keep the actor's health insurance current. The continuity errors are obvious, there are silly moments of overacting and ridiculous stunts like driving through a house, or flying cows caught in a tornado. But it is my go-to movie for comfort and joy. The main characters' personalities vary wildly and often conflict with each other, but they are a chosen family who have one joint passion (that happens to be measuring tornados in the hope of giving people an early warning system). I watch Twister on every flight I take. I watch it when I'm feeling lonely or bored. I watch it when I miss the 90's. I watch it when I miss the actors in it who have passed away far before their time. It reminds me what it feels like to be young or reckless for a purpose or what it feels like to follow the wind.
There is a scene about 3/4 through the movie, where the crew is recovering from chasing some gnarly tornados. They are staying at a motel that's at/near a drive-in movie theatre. The movie on the screen, The Shinning. All of the sudden, the wind changes and lightning flashes and Bill (played by Bill Paxton) sees a huge tornado right behind the screen. All hell breaks loose and everyone goes running for shelter.
Today, I went to that drive-in theatre. The location, Beacon Drive-In, Guthrie, Oklahoma. Beacon has been a working drive-in since 1950 and this weekend will play Black Widow. Unfortunately, I don't plan on being in OKC this weekend, so I went today and though it was closed, I slipped in between two poles and had the whole place to myself to take about 1,000 pictures and imagine, dream, feel.
This is where I snuck in. "Is that illegal?" You might ask. Honestly, I don't know. I didn't see a single sing that said "closed" or "stay out" or anything of that nature. But also, I have guts. I have guts because my dad had guts. When I was a kid, he would see army barracks or a theater or arts venue and start trying doors. I learned if you are confident enough (and have a good story, if you're caught), that risks can be worth taking. And I thanked my Dad, because I had the best time exploring.
There's something about hearing "Good job" from your dad that feels magical no matter how old you are (or how illegal the thing you're doing might be).
Here are some more shots from the drive-in. I took my sweet time and knew what I would say if someone happened to be living in the RV parked in the back. Twister is just the best and I could not help myself from checking it out and thinking about all the actors that day and the feeling that wells up inside me every time I watch the drive-in scene. I was elated to be there. And saw no one else.
Once I had my fill, touched the screen and was ready to move on, I decided to go back to Pops 66 to catch the 66 foot tall neon soda structure in all it's glory....and have a little fun too.
When I got there, the sun had just set.
There were families with kids running around, being silly, taking silly photos (like the above). Also, as an aside, I think that the picture of me 'drinking' from the 66' soda structure makes up for the fact that I didn't pose with my finger up George Washington's nose when I went to Mount Rushmore.
I decided to settle in and wait for the sun to go down, the night to take over and the neon to become more vibrant. I went for a little walk (yes, mom, in my flip flops again) on a narrow road next to a field (where, I'm sure snakes and bugs and all manner of things luxuriated in the evening heat). But going for that little walk, got me this picture which I might hang in my office at home.
As the sun went down, my skin started to crawl with the change in humidity. The noise of kids running around disappeared and the hum of insects in nearby cornfields increased. Groups of teenagers arrived by noisy carloads. They stood far back from the attraction to take photos of each other in different artistic and depth-bending positions. Holding the soda. Leaning on it. (I didn't see anyone drink from it, so I'm better than they are...I mean, obviously I'm the first one EVER to think of doing that)
The sky grew darker; the statue lit up brighter and brighter.
The mood shifted. A Summertime magic was clearly all around us.
The world seemed quieter, somehow, and closer.
I let the night wash over me. I accepted it's pace and heat. And somewhere in there, my heart opened up to Oklahoma. I wasn't focused on it's unique sprawl, it's city-less feeling. I felt connected and intoxicated and wanted to view it with fresh eyes.
I sought out one more sight before heading to my hotel for the evening.
The Wheeler Ferris Wheel in Oklahoma City. From 1996-2008 this Ferris wheel operated at
the Santa Monica Pier and through a fluke was purchased on Ebay for OKC.
Foolishly, I assumed it would be running and as lit up as Pops, but like many attractions on my trip so far, when I showed up it was closed. Actually, I didn't know it was closed until I turned down an eerie path, past an open gate and wound down to an unlit parking lot. I could hear people talking and laughing. I saw one person taking pictures near the sign, but as I approached I realized that this was the late shift of concession workers closing up for the night.
In the dark, I quickly balanced my camera on a three legged wrought iron table, using my lens cap to try and balance out the shot. And, as my final action, before jogging to my car and racing out of the lot ahead of the few remaining employees (afraid that they would lock the gate, trapping me there for the night), I snapped as many pictures as I could in 10 seconds.
The automatic feature slowed the shutter speed way down, and, as my camera slipped off the lens cap, I heard the shutter open, a long pause and the shutter close.
