I vividly remembered rushing into the theater and running through the doors, straight from school. There were people lining up to buy tickets, flooding in unlike anything I’d ever seen before. The lobby was filled with the scent of fresh popcorn, with the sounds of the arcade games, popcorn and soda machines, mixing in with the chatter of people lining up to the concession stand to buy snacks and get in to see The Avengers. While I was thrilled to see all the people, I didn’t lose my focus. I was looking for my father, who would tell me what I needed to do. As I saw him walk out the office, he made eye contact with me, pointed to the ticket booth and said, “You got it, right?” I nodded yes and made my way there. Even though I was thirteen
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I spent most of my time there, helping out with the box office booth and concession stand after school and on the weekends. At times, my father would have me handle communication with the film companies. I had exposure to an intricate business and retained whatever I could, whenever I could. I always felt that the experience I gained from there set me apart from some of my peers. While my friends were watching the Disney Channel, I emailed out Box Office reports for The Walt Disney Film Company.
As I recalled my past, I felt as if the memories would dissipate with the building. Exasperated by that thought, I told myself I had to go back and see it one last time. Later that week, I found myself walking through a neighborhood I hadn’t caught a sight of in years. What was once an area filled with an influx of people paired with an ambiance of happiness and excitement, was now a dreary and dispiriting place.
When I caught sight of the marquee, my memories of the past began to coincide with my vision of the present. The closer I got, the marquee that I perceived as brightly illuminated slowly revealed to be time-worn and dull as reality overtook my illusion. The front was boarded up, but I saw what seemed like a means of entry. After I set foot through the entrance, I immediately regretted
I spent most of my time there, helping out with the box office booth and concession stand after school and on the weekends. At times, my father would have me handle communication with the film companies. I had exposure to an intricate business and retained whatever I could, whenever I could. I always felt that the experience I gained from there set me apart from some of my peers. While my friends were watching the Disney Channel, I emailed out Box Office reports for The Walt Disney Film Company.
As I recalled my past, I felt as if the memories would dissipate with the building. Exasperated by that thought, I told myself I had to go back and see it one last time. Later that week, I found myself walking through a neighborhood I hadn’t caught a sight of in years. What was once an area filled with an influx of people paired with an ambiance of happiness and excitement, was now a dreary and dispiriting place.
When I caught sight of the marquee, my memories of the past began to coincide with my vision of the present. The closer I got, the marquee that I perceived as brightly illuminated slowly revealed to be time-worn and dull as reality overtook my illusion. The front was boarded up, but I saw what seemed like a means of entry. After I set foot through the entrance, I immediately regretted