I had spent a good part of the evening avoiding this
particular moment; Midnight. I got off work early, went to dinner with my
family, took my sister shopping, went home and took a nap, took a shower, listened
to music online, browsed through random articles on the Yahoo Oddest News page,
took my sister to Taco Bell then went and got a drink at McDonalds. It couldn’t
be avoided. It made me cringe as much as it put me in a state of ecstasy. Yes,
a drug is a good way to describe something that adds no value to your life, is
fairly expensive and is so addictive that it robs a person of valuable time
they can never have back.
It’s one thing to be addicted to something like Harry
Potter. It’s one thing to love the Weasley Twins. It’s one thing to squeal in excitement
when Ron and Hermione finally kiss. It’s one thing to cry over Dumbledore’s
death. This is quite another thing.
I took my sister with me not daring to brave it alone. We
arrived at 11:30 which was still a little too early for my liking. After
parking, we browsed through the discounted books boxes outside. When I couldn’t
stand the cigarette smoke and the overwhelming stacks of Baby Einstein books,
we finally went inside.
Staring at the brightly colored discounted children’s
section before me, I tried to hide my embarrassment of actually being here. I
could not believe I had come. A swirl of black and white fluttered in my
peripheral vision. I looked over cautiously. Big, bold letters reading, “Team
Edward” made my cheeks burn.
“Team Edward?” my sister shouted expasperatedly, “Did you
see that?” she continued in disbelief. It
was comforting to know that we now shared the same sentiment.
Mere moments before, in the car, in the parking lot, I
confessed my reservations about attending. I explained to her that it would be
different if the books were actually good. They are okay, but not good. The
writing itself is actually pretty terrible. The editing is even worse. The
characters lack depth and are highly unlikable. Although, to give Stephenie
Meyer some credit, they do become a bit more bearable as the series continued.
The story line is choppy and inpractical even for fiction teen fantasy. Bella
whines incessantly, she's unrealistically clumsy, she has no self-esteem and
really has no redeeming qualities. Edward is far too nice and overly
controlling. Edward's relationship with Bella consists of fighting and kissing.
Their "love" seems to be more infatuation, desire and lust than
anything substantial. Yet, I continue to read them. Oh, the Twilight Saga
continues.
All that being said, my sister did not agree with me upfront.
Secretly, I think she was really excited despite having only read the first
book all the way through.
Back in the store however, our disbelief continued as a loud,
scratchy voice sounded over the PA, “We officially have 36 seconds before we
can start selling Breaking Dawn!”
The crowd cheered.
Mortified, my sister and I both knew what was coming next,
but she puts the agony into words. “They’re not going to countdown are they?”
Oh, yes, they were and yes, they did start from 36 seconds.
As if the large television blaring “Twilight” movie
information hadn’t been bad enough. For
36 long seconds, I stared at the ground. I shook my head trying to ignore what
was happening. I groaned inside. I cannot even call “Twilight” a guilty
pleasure. Mostly, when I read it, I just feel guilty. I am sure that somewhere Tolkein
is shaking in the grave at the literary blasphemy.
When the crowd reached two, I looked over at Sarah. She was
staring at them; The long line of zombies. The truly did look like they had
been bitten. Standing in line, the looked like cannibals ready to each other.
The air was polluted with their excitement. Sarah looked over at me as their
rabid screams died down. The horror in her eyes mirrored my emotions. They were
no words to describe what we had just seen.
We walked around the store instead. We browsed through the
comic section, then through the sports area, the computer books and finally stopped
to gleefully look over the children’s books. Buying time, I read her a story
about underwear loving aliens. We quickly abandoned our nastaligia when a group
of girls began to read “Breaking Dawn” aloud on a near by couch.
We toured the journal section, compared ridiculous birthday cards,
and finally made our way to the line when the loud scratchy voice on the PA
made the last call.
Leaving the store, I somehow found pleasure that I had been
the last person to leave with the book in my hand. I also contended myself with
the other two in the bag. Sarah and I made our way through the curb-sitting
zombies. They all had books in their hands. They were devouring words and pages
with devilish excitement. I looked away in disgust.
On the way to the car, my sister and I compared the “A Night
with Bite” party to the HP parties.
“You know what the biggest difference is,” Sarah said, “Harry
Potter fans have dignity.”
“Ridiculous,” I agreed wholeheartedly. What we had just
witnessed in the store had been far from dignified.
“Riddikulus,” she added. We both laughed.
“I love you,”
“Let’s not tell anyone about this,” she pleaded.
I just smiled. | 
