Who's Afraid of Renting a Video Cassette?

You know how people used to have to leave their houses to do things like grocery shop and rent video cassettes? Well, it turns out that hassle is behind us!

I've been waiting for the day when I could live a full life from my bed, and it looks like I'm one step closer. Blockbuster might be closing its doors!

Maybe I should feel sad about the death of the face-to-face video rental, but I'm not. What has Blockbuster ever done for me, aside from supplying me with soft-core porn, that is, and making me feel guilty for renting Ice Castles and Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken? And honestly, Blockbuster has been dead to me for some time now:

It was a blustery day in the Spring of 2007--a gray, chilly day--the kind of day that turns your cheeks ruddy and makes you feel like a kid on a playground again, the kind of day that makes you want to kick over a metal bucket full of rocks, that makes you want to throw a stick at someone's car. I was living in Chicago at the time, so I walked everywhere. I left my house without a coat. Even though it was only 50 degrees outside, there was no snow on the ground and I was hungry for Spring--and videos. That's why I was headed to Blockbuster.

On the way, I stopped at 7-11 to purchase 9 dollars worth of junk food. I can't walk to Blockbuster without eating a whole lot of Hostess Sno-balls on the way. This is something I learned about myself through taking the Facebook quiz "What Is Your Walking-To-Blockbuster Style?" It's a popular quiz. All I know is, when a Facebook quiz tells me to do something, I do it. I am one superstitious bitch.

I was eating my Hostess Sno-Balls rather carelessly, shoving them into my mouth whole and then trying to sing "Tomorrow" from the musical "Annie" with a mouth full of pink sugary deliciousness. I was also littering, and not the semi-acceptable I-can't-find-a-garbage-can-even-though-I-looked-really-hard-so-I'm-going-to-throw-this-trash-on-the-ground kind of littering--I was walking up to garbage cans and then dropping my trash on the ground right next to the receptacles, because that's just the kind of dangerous that I am.

I arrived at Blockbuster, and as I stepped up to the building, the feeling that rushed over me was, I imagine, akin to how religious people feel when they go on a pilgrimage and finally arrive at their shrine--the church or holy land or hut or patch of grass that is, to them, the worldly embodiment of truth and light. The warm, yellowy florescent essence of Blockbuster shone out at me through the plate-glass windows and encircled me like a much-needed bear hug as I stood there on the pavement marveling at the glory that is a store that houses and rents out DVDs and tapes. I stepped gingerly inside and pushed through the turnstile (they have turnstiles at some of the city Blockbusters...just to make it a little harder for people to steal videos and giant tubs of un-popped (but still buttery-smelling) "movie-theater" popcorn).

I looked around, and it was like taking in the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel: DVDs! Tapes! Candy! InTouch magazine! A bum slumped over in the corner with a copy of "BASEketball" in his hand! Also: colorful posters made the too-good-to-be-true proclamation: "No Late Fees!" I was in heaven.

And that's when somebody stabbed me. This is going to sound made-up, but it's true: I didn't even feel it! I just looked down and I saw blood pouring out of my abdomen. I made a gurgling sound and fell to my knees. My life flashed before my eyes. It went something like this: my beautiful mother's face, green grass blowing in a soft breeze, a bicycle, chili mac, my high-school locker, chili mac, dentures, a lone gray bush, gathering storm clouds, my sister's gentle voice murmuring "Pretty baby, pretty baby," glitter, a bowl of chili mac.

Then everything went black. All I felt was the warm pool of sticky blood spreading out around me, and in that moment, I made myself a promise: "Self," I said to myself in my head, "When I get home I will get Netflix."

And I did get Netflix. And honestly, I've been very happy with it. My DVDs come in the mail like clockwork!

So, will I miss Blockbuster when it goes under? No--no I won't. I may miss the feeling of complete and utter joy that I once got at standing in front of the store, poised at the precipice of its entryway, overcome by the feelings of hope and possibility that flooded my heart and soul...but I will not miss the stark terror that I felt the moment I got stabbed in front of a Twizzlers display.