it was the summer of '84
As Syd's first job at Amy's Ice Creams comes to it's summer lovin' close, I found myself reminiscing tonight about all the jobs I had in high school and college. About the internships at the Austin American-Statesman and at KLBJ-AM, where I produced more trouble than work.
And how can I forget the glorious year at K-EYE TV before I became pregnant with Syd? Or the two weeks as the receptionist at a high-end A/V sales shop? I'm proud of the seven long years I put in at Medifax, working in a closet turned into an office. The kind of offices they give to doctors on naval ships.
What is Medifax, you may ask? I will answer that question in a later post. Tonight I start a seven-part series on my "working" life. Some jobs require only this summation: Today I worked, and today I quit.
I joined the working force in 1984, the summer of my junior year. My brother got a job as an usher at the movie theater in Northcross Mall. This was THE movie theater of Austin. Besides being a major hub of the city, the lure of free movies beckoned to me, and I got a job there as a concessionist. I still cannot go to a movie theater and not think of cleaning out vats of cold nacho cheese into the wee morning hours. Or sliding in my white keds on the greasy floor while doing so.
I will never forget the preppy vested uniforms, emblazoned with a gold AMC logo. Here I am with my brother Tim that summer.
But it was not all fun and glamour. Or was it? I saved enough money to get my hair cut and highlighted into Madonna's messy blonde bobbed look. I fell in love with an usher who was much older and had real life problems. I don't remember his name, but he reminded me of a German Shepherd. Do not ask why I found him so appealing. (Sidenote: he did not know I was in love with him, not even when I sat next to him in "Against All Odds" listening to Phil Collin's sing the power ballad by the same name). "Take a look at me now..." He was not taking a look. Sigh.
The assistant manager of the concession stand was a boy I went to school with. I will call him Devin. He had a twin brother with a similar name...let's call him Dellin. Devin once gave me an evaluation and reported to the manager that I was slow. You try cleaning out a giant metal tub of fake cheese with a small sponge on a greasy floor while wearing keds. Then you tell me who is slow.
I'm going to leave out some details here that involve under-age drinking and shoe polishing of cars. Just want to make mention of it so I can remember it later.
I became friends with Stacey and Tracy, fellow concessionists and Lanier High School students. My good friend Dan worked there, as well as some football players, who I will call C and Z. See my book "hey poptart guy!" for more on them. I will say Z remained a constant crush for most of my high school years and I think the only person I asked to sign my yearbook one year. Not to be creepy or anything. I'm sure he could never have lived up to the awesome surfer persona I had given him in my mind. But, those Levi's.
Anyway, back to the movie theater. Stacey and Tracy and I decided to enter the Lake Austin River Raft Race that summer. Each raft had a theme, and we were the Flintstones, minus the cavemen. I can not even remember what we made our raft of, but you can be sure it was not safe. We spiked a watermelon the night before. We braided our hair and made some flimsy cavewoman costumes. Then the next morning we got on our raft, among all the other unsafe rafts - which were also carrying alcohol - and we embarked onto the lake.
I cannot believe this race no longer exists. Man-made rafts, cumbersome costumes, alcohol, a deep lake, no sort of registration or entry forms that I can remember...what could go wrong? Yes, Austin at it's 80's best.
As all good summer jobs must, this one at the AMC theater came to an end. This is the place where I really learned to love the movies. To sit, at the end of my shift, with a ginormous Coke and my dirty keds up on the seat before me. To let the world on the screen consume me and be a bigger drama than my teenage life. To sit in the cool darkness, surrounded by the softly-lit burgundy walls and curtains, with maybe just an usher nearby watching too. To watch the end credits scroll by and somehow feel a little better, a little more alright with the world around me when I re-emerged into the light.
Now when I drive by what is left of Northcross Mall, I don't see the trendy new eateries or really even the Walmart. I see a movie theater that was full of life, close to the edge of a noisy ice rink, and across from the newest hugely popular fast food restaurant, Chick-fil-A. I remember the late night drives home up Burnet road, with hardly a car around me. And I think about how much I love this city, whether it's full or empty, cool or not. This city gave me so much fun that summer, a summer I hardly had a care in the world about, beyond crushing on boys and getting a summer tan. This city and I have deep love.
How can you just walk away from me
When all I can do is watch you leave?
'Cause we've shared the laughter and the pain
And even shared the tears
You're the only one who really knew me at all
And how can I forget the glorious year at K-EYE TV before I became pregnant with Syd? Or the two weeks as the receptionist at a high-end A/V sales shop? I'm proud of the seven long years I put in at Medifax, working in a closet turned into an office. The kind of offices they give to doctors on naval ships.
What is Medifax, you may ask? I will answer that question in a later post. Tonight I start a seven-part series on my "working" life. Some jobs require only this summation: Today I worked, and today I quit.
I joined the working force in 1984, the summer of my junior year. My brother got a job as an usher at the movie theater in Northcross Mall. This was THE movie theater of Austin. Besides being a major hub of the city, the lure of free movies beckoned to me, and I got a job there as a concessionist. I still cannot go to a movie theater and not think of cleaning out vats of cold nacho cheese into the wee morning hours. Or sliding in my white keds on the greasy floor while doing so.
I will never forget the preppy vested uniforms, emblazoned with a gold AMC logo. Here I am with my brother Tim that summer.
But it was not all fun and glamour. Or was it? I saved enough money to get my hair cut and highlighted into Madonna's messy blonde bobbed look. I fell in love with an usher who was much older and had real life problems. I don't remember his name, but he reminded me of a German Shepherd. Do not ask why I found him so appealing. (Sidenote: he did not know I was in love with him, not even when I sat next to him in "Against All Odds" listening to Phil Collin's sing the power ballad by the same name). "Take a look at me now..." He was not taking a look. Sigh.
The assistant manager of the concession stand was a boy I went to school with. I will call him Devin. He had a twin brother with a similar name...let's call him Dellin. Devin once gave me an evaluation and reported to the manager that I was slow. You try cleaning out a giant metal tub of fake cheese with a small sponge on a greasy floor while wearing keds. Then you tell me who is slow.
I'm going to leave out some details here that involve under-age drinking and shoe polishing of cars. Just want to make mention of it so I can remember it later.
I became friends with Stacey and Tracy, fellow concessionists and Lanier High School students. My good friend Dan worked there, as well as some football players, who I will call C and Z. See my book "hey poptart guy!" for more on them. I will say Z remained a constant crush for most of my high school years and I think the only person I asked to sign my yearbook one year. Not to be creepy or anything. I'm sure he could never have lived up to the awesome surfer persona I had given him in my mind. But, those Levi's.
Anyway, back to the movie theater. Stacey and Tracy and I decided to enter the Lake Austin River Raft Race that summer. Each raft had a theme, and we were the Flintstones, minus the cavemen. I can not even remember what we made our raft of, but you can be sure it was not safe. We spiked a watermelon the night before. We braided our hair and made some flimsy cavewoman costumes. Then the next morning we got on our raft, among all the other unsafe rafts - which were also carrying alcohol - and we embarked onto the lake.
I cannot believe this race no longer exists. Man-made rafts, cumbersome costumes, alcohol, a deep lake, no sort of registration or entry forms that I can remember...what could go wrong? Yes, Austin at it's 80's best.
As all good summer jobs must, this one at the AMC theater came to an end. This is the place where I really learned to love the movies. To sit, at the end of my shift, with a ginormous Coke and my dirty keds up on the seat before me. To let the world on the screen consume me and be a bigger drama than my teenage life. To sit in the cool darkness, surrounded by the softly-lit burgundy walls and curtains, with maybe just an usher nearby watching too. To watch the end credits scroll by and somehow feel a little better, a little more alright with the world around me when I re-emerged into the light.
Now when I drive by what is left of Northcross Mall, I don't see the trendy new eateries or really even the Walmart. I see a movie theater that was full of life, close to the edge of a noisy ice rink, and across from the newest hugely popular fast food restaurant, Chick-fil-A. I remember the late night drives home up Burnet road, with hardly a car around me. And I think about how much I love this city, whether it's full or empty, cool or not. This city gave me so much fun that summer, a summer I hardly had a care in the world about, beyond crushing on boys and getting a summer tan. This city and I have deep love.
How can you just walk away from me
When all I can do is watch you leave?
'Cause we've shared the laughter and the pain
And even shared the tears
You're the only one who really knew me at all
So take a look at me now
Well there's just an empty space
And there's nothing left here to remind me
Just the memory of your face
Ooh, Take a look at me now
Well there's just an empty space
And there's nothing left here to remind me
Just the memory of your face
Ooh, Take a look at me now
- lyrics taken from Against All Odds, Phil Collins