| Happy Halloween. Remember that if you're not covered in blood, sipping cider, munching on stuff that's REALLY not good for you, watching scary movies, or scaring the bejesus out of people... you're doing it wrong. And that goes out to the Fundementalist Christians too. The ones that hand out the "Evils of Halloween" Chick Tracts instead of candy on Halloween. You people are the scariest of all. But tonight marks another Holiday for me. Markedly, a more important holiday for me. Which is amazing, because when asked, Halloween usually tops my list of favorite Holidays. But this is usually because I don't want to go through the whole shoot and shebang about the "120 Minute Hour." But since the nature of a "blog" is to go through various shoots and shebangs, here it is for you. It started, like so many other stories from this era of my life, at Denny's. Long before all of the Denny's in Wyoming closed down, and long before the vacant Denny's building in my town burned to the ground in a blaze of glory (we still all suspect insurance fraud) that semi-24 hour restaurant was a place that we probably would have been more comfortable calling "home" than our actual houses. This being the case however, we (read: me) were still young enough to be affected by parent imposed curfews. Mine, was a very liberal 1:00 am. I love my parents. Concerned, but fair. In any event, it started on a dark October night, which I can only imagine was bitterly cold and there was snow on the ground. Not because I have any kind of vivid recollection of the day, but because this is Casper, Wyoming and in late October it's ALWAYS bitterly cold with snow on the ground. In my minds eye, ALL of the Denny's regulars were there that night. But realistically, it was probably just my buddies Eric, Jon, and Myself. We sat comiserating, philosphizing, and otherwise acting like the pretentious high school pricks that we were. In any event, we must've been having a good time, because as the hour drew closer for me to turn into a pumpkin and go home, I remember being disappointed to cut the evening off. However, it was observed to me that since it was daylight saving's time, and when the clocks were turned back at 2 AM, it would really be 1 AM, thus I could stay out an hour later and still observe my 1 AM curfew. It was then decided that since you get you live your 1 AM hour twice, we dubbed the phenomenon "The 120 Minute Hour". Now I'm not sure if it was that night that we started the screenplay or if it was a subsequent night. But the point is that Eric, Jon, and I began a screenplay that we intended to shoot ourselves, about The 120 Minute Hour. In the movie, we would've been given several different short stories, all taking place in a Denny's. The one's I can remember involve an overly eloquent person preaching the joys of smoking to a non-smoker, an older man hitting on girls who were legal but not exactly ethically within his dating range (we're talking 60/18 here), a group of older ladies that complain about everything, and a man (admittedly an idealistic version of myself) who was hopelessly romantic and carried around a pink lighter as a talisman to attract women (also, oddly autobiographical). During the first 1 AM hour, we'd explore these people their situations and their characters. But when Fay, the Denny's waitress, turned back the clock... everything changed. All of a sudden the non-smoker had picked up the habit and was eloquently singing the praises of smoking, all the while his smoker friend thought that maybe he was over-doing it just a bit and may want to cut back before smoking an enitre pack in one sitting. The hopless romantic is now surrounded by shallow bubbly girls, but is somehow drawn away from them to a book-wormish girl in the corner reading Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and they leave together- the pink lighter being left behind on the table. Not sure I remember how the old man and the table of old women changed... but the point is, at the hour everything turned an almost complete 180. The whole thing was to be narrated by two observers "Hep Cat" (played by Jon) in the first hour and "Drifter" (played by Eric) in the second. Who would show the stark contrasts and underline that in life you can always change and there really are no rules. The notebooks that this completed screenplay was scribbled in have been lost to time, the landfill, or Jon's parent's house. And truth be told, looking back now, it had a lot of week points and really lacked a solid through-line. But I remember that we had some genuinely interesting and funny dialogue, and I still think that the concept could be interesting to explore. However from the screenplay about The 120 Minute Hour, came the annual observence of the holiday itself. For many people that were in the Denny's collective, and for several people who heard the story thereafter (the legend was taken to several coffeeshops in the years following) the REAL 120 Minute hour was a time for reflection, change, and exploration. Since you get to re-live an hour of your life, one of those hours doesn't count. So if you want to do something crazy, or resolve to change something, we decided that the night of daylight saving's "fall back" was the night to do it. One 120 minute hour was spent with residents of Cheyenne, Wyoming observing the traditions of yesteryear established by my friends in Casper. Eating straight sugar packets (paper and all) and taking straight creamer shots. And of course planning the future. Another was spent, once again at coffee, with people sitting around a table discussing the past and talking about exactly how small a world we live in. For example, a man whom I'd never met came to see my friend "Krootboy". Sitting with Krootboy, the stranger from New Mexico, and a friend of mine who shall not be named, it was determined that a scary sexual encounter that the unnamed man had with a married woman after high school, turned out that the girl was married to the guy who was a best friend of my good friend from elementary school and was also friends with krootboy. For years, the story of the creepy liason that the man-with-no-name had been simply and amusing story to tell. However, now it turns out that we all knew the people involved, but this conclusion would not have been made without the stranger from New Mexico (who also knew the people involved) to fill in the blanks. Yet another was spent, not in reflection of the past, but with eyes cast to the future. To love, romance, ethics, and hero worship. It was also spent in Europe... which is probably why things were so optimistic that year. In every 120 Minute Hour, there is a turning point in my life. Sometimes small and sometimes large. Even with the screenplay itself, life oddly mirrored art. I had been hanging around some pretty shallow people when we wrote the script, but oddly ended up dating a well-read girl who had a deep appreciation for Douglas Adams. So, in a nutshell, The 120 Minute Hour is my "New Years Eve" so to speak. It's when I make resolutions, reflect on my life, and decide what direction I need to be going. This year, I have a lot to ponder. Stuff I won't bore you with, but to you all I raise my glass and toast: If you had a shitty year last year, may this year find you better. If you had a wonderful year last year, may this year still find you better. Happy 120 Minute Hour everyone. Oh. Yeah. And Happy Halloween. |
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