5 Days of Writer's Block Cured By . . . Star Wars.

I remember the night of May 18, 1999, well. I put my then 3 year old son to bed. I kissed my wife goodnight, received the look of shame I always get when I engage in geekery, and off I went.

I arrived at Kerasotes Show Place 8 a touch before 11. I marveled at my fellow geeks in costumes, lightsaber fighting in the parking lot, and arguing in raspy, wheezing voices over obscure Star Wars trivia. I was home. These were my people. I was right where I belonged.

 I entered the theater. No snacks. No drinks. I wasn't about to risk an unscheduled bathroom break during the biggest movie night of my life. The lights went dark. People cheered when the Lucasfilm Ltd logo appeared. The movies that all geekdom pressed their Cheetos stained fingers together and prayed for were FINALLY here after a 15 year wait.

 Then something happened that none of us geeks could of imagined: the movie sucked, sucked hard. Midichlorins? Really? Vader built 3PO? Seriously? Jar Jar Binks? Does George Lucas hate us? There was a mix of stunned silence and palpable anger in the parking lot. How in the fudge could the movie stink more than a hat full of hammered assholes? I still to this day break my life into 2 parts: before TPM and after TPM. My geeky heart had been blasted into bits like a protocol droid wandering around Cloud City.

 I watched The Phantom Menace one more time over the past 13 years. I had the same reaction, that was much like Ralphie Parker's when he found out his Little Orphan Annie decoder ring was a commercial gimmick in A Christmas Story, I'd been bamboozled, hoodwinked . . . sonuvabitch.

I loathe Lord of the Rings. I enjoyed the Harry Potter franchise. Twilight can simple suck it. Regardless of my feelings for these movie franchises (not sagas, there is ONLY 1 SAGA) it honked me off that they were reigning supreme in box office receipts over the Star Wars Saga. For that reason alone I journeyed to the former Kerasotes theater, now AMC, to watch The Phantom Menace one last time in 3D this past Sunday.

 I brought fellow geeks with me, Dan and Jamie. Dan brought his kids. I figured if I was going to suffer through, I was at least going to have fun doing it. I sat by Dan's daughter, Amaya, and that was key to my experience. For every cringe inducing moment, I could hear a chuckle out of her. First, I had to be sure I wasn't vocalizing or pantomiming my disgust to make her giggle. I wasn't.

 So, I settled in, watched the movie and watched her watch the movie (not in creepy pedder way). What I discovered was, TPM was a pretty descent kid flick. It wasn't as horrible as I remembered.

 Star Wars was meant to be a fantasy movie. As us geeks grew from geeklings into full blown dungeon masters, we expected Star Wars to grow with us. Into what I don't know. Maybe Reservoir Dogs in a galaxy far, far away? I had to unlearn what I had learned. I had to watch the movie through the eyes I use to watch it with. Once I watched Amaya for a bit, I began to SEE the movie. I even ALMOST laughed at Jar Jar once.

 Don't get me wrong TPM isn't a great movie. There are problems with the acting, continuity, and pacing. Once I could stop dwelling in reality and enjoy the fantasy, it was tolerable. I'd put it 4th out of the 6 Star Wars movies. Even my fellow geeks that went along said it wasn't as horrid as they remembered. In fact, it was pretty wizard. *cringe*