Bacon's Sizzle Reel: Footloose

A couple years ago, I was blessed enough to come across an old movie from the 80s titled Valley Girl, in which a girl from the San Fernando Valley (as if!) engages in a star-crossed romance with a kid from a different school.  The kid was Nic Cage, and the movie was stellar and tailor-made for live tweeting.

That was a really fun experience for me, so I decided I wanted to live tweet again, except by tweet I mean blog.  And I wanted to pick an actor and revisit some of their old roles in different movies.

Picking an actor was tough.  Obviously Nicolas Cage came to mind.  I thought that would be too on the nose, so I decided against it.

I went through a lot of options.  Jim Carrey I checked out, but he has literally no movies on Netflix (how is that even possible?), and since I'm lazy and only watching movies I can find on Netflix, I crossed him off the list.
Harrison Ford is prolific, but he only plays Harrison Ford and stars in Harrison Ford movies.  Every movie has similar elements.  Liam Neeson was nixed for the same reason.  As was George Clooney.  Will Smith.  I wanted somebody who played both leads and bit parts - someone who showed up in movies you had no idea they were in.  Fun surprise cameos every now and then.
Gabrielle Union was a strong option.  She was in Two Can Play at That Game as a supporting character, and I love that movie.  She was in She's All That.  Another classic.  She starred in a BET movie about a responsible woman holding her siblings together - Mary Jane.  Another great one.  I realized, however, that I had seen most of the movies she was in that currently stream on Netflix, so I decided against Gabrielle Union.
I had narrowed down the list to Kevin Bacon versus Woody Harrelson.  Woody Harrelson was, and still is, a solid choice, but ultimately I decided Kevin Bacon was so much more fun.  Bacon starred in films like Footloose, but he also was in Queen Latifah's Beauty Shop.  Did you know that?  Did you know he was in that movie?  Like, who did he even play?  That's great.  Kevin Bacon is the kind of guy who just surprises you.

Then I suddenly remembered Paul Rudd.  Man, what a talent.  What a varied list of films and roles he's been in.  Clueless, Halloween, Wet Hot American Summer, Anchorman... this was tough.  Who do I choose?

So I called my 20-year-old cousin because I assumed she would answer me, and I assumed correctly.  She told me her roommates had no idea who Kevin Bacon is, which was a statement that sounded like mostly gibberish to me.  What does that sentence even mean, "I don't know who Kevin Bacon is"?  What are you trying to say here?
I feel, then, that it is my duty to educate whoever comes across this blog on the storied and wondrous career Kevin Bacon has had throughout the decades.  Maybe I will choose Paul Rudd movies next, although more likely I will choose my man Woody H or my lady Gabrielle U.
Kevin Kline's list of works on Netflix is confounding.  Maybe I'll go through his films as well.  (Films only - television would take too long.  This also conveniently saves me from having to watch The Following.)

Seriously.  This is the most random collection of film and television.  If someone yesterday had asked me "what's the link here?" I would have been like "all of these projects were made."

Okay, let's get started.  I'm going with chronological order with what's on Netflix.  Unfortunately, Netflix doesn't have Animal House or Friday the 13th, so our first Kevin Bacon movie is the 1984 classic Footloose!


Oh man.  The opening is the Footloose song.  That's so good.
People's feet tapping to it.
Literally cannot even fathom people not liking this.
Oh shit John Lithgow and Sarah Jessica Parker in the credits.  It has been a million years since I've seen this movie.  I am so excited.

Some of these shoes are so 80s.
That sequence went on for 2 minutes 35 seconds.

Kevin Bacon is so over Preacher John Lithgow railing against rock n' roll.
3 minutes 42 seconds in, lady in the bottom right-hand corner is so concerned about rock n' roll right now.

Girls gossiping about how cute Kevin Bacon is while in church.  Religious small towns, am I right?
Kid being woken up during mass at 4:52 is everything I know about Sunday mass.

5:25 - Sarah Jessica Parker calls Kevin Bacon a "stunning new gentleman" which is maybe one of the best compliments I've heard in a while.  Religious small towns in the 80s, am I right?

5:31 - oh my god those girls just laughed at his name are you serious?  It's Ren.  I will be calling him Kevin Bacon though.

5:34 - John Lithgow's daughter is not impressed with Kevin Bacon like the other girls are.  Romance is in the air.

6:10 - woah one of their high school buddies just had her baby and isn't 100% sure who the father is?  Damn.  Religious small towns, am I right?

6:56 - drag race with 4 girls in one sedan junker versus one guy in a souped up pickup truck junker.  Also, he has a boombox set up behind him.  Technology.

6:59 - just fully appreciated his deer antlers on the roof of his truck.  Damn.  He put those there on purpose.

7:24 - wait.  Wait.  Preacher's daughter Ariel is going from sedan to the truck while both are driving at a fairly high speed?  She is so crazy. I was in high school and never that crazy.  She must be rebelling against her ridiculously strict preacher father who hates rock n' roll.

8:45 - Ariel makes bad choices, like having one foot precariously in two different car windows at the same time while driving towards a big truck, then choosing the deer antler pick-up truck guy as the person she wants to bone.

9:16 - Kevin Bacon making enemies on his first day in town by defending the book Slaughterhouse Five.  Let's appreciate how upset you'd be if you were Kevin Bacon right now.  Mom just moved him to this town while he was still in high school.  He came from somewhere that let him read Slaughterhouse Five, now they wont even LET HIM ROCK N' ROLL.

10:20 - Kevin Bacon's cousin who is like 10 years younger than him just said, "if you ask me, [Kevin Bacon] is a total fox."  What.  Religious small towns, am I right?

10:28 - Kevin Bacon's uncle more upset at his daughter's use of the word "fox" than at her inappropriate feelings.  RST, AIR?

10:32 - the place everyone goes to is called The Spot LOL.

11:02 - it's nighttime now.  Ariel's friends see her at The Spot with deer antler boy and are pissed at her for being so stupid.  They make comments about the boy she's with having graduated high school, which means he drives a pick-up in his hometown with deer antlers on it and chases after high school girls.  Ariel knows how to pick 'em.

11:36 - oh damn, Ariel playing rock n' roll in public at The Spot.  Everyone likes it though.
Is it rock n' roll?  Sounds like 80s pop.  I'm too young, maybe.  Point is the same.

11:53 - lol at the girl dancing while on the payphone.

12:04 - how is everyone able to hear this boombox?  Even the guy in the kitchen?

12:36 - everyone is a pretty good dancer considering they're not allowed to listen to this stuff.

12:41 - busted.  Preacher John Lithgow is here.

13:34 - Kevin Bacon is putting on a tie as he gets ready for school.  Kevin Bacon in so freaking dope in this movie so far.
Mom says maybe don't wear the tie, he can dress like David Bowie when he goes off to college.
I am too young to understand how wearing a tie to school makes you David Bowie.

14:01 - Kevin Bacon shows up in his yellow bug blasting actual rock n' roll music.  I was correct in assuming Ariel was playing pop.  I am not crazy.  Nice.

14:45 - some male student just randomly yells at Kevin Bacon to comb his hair.  WHAT IS THIS.

15:09 - Kevin Bacon makes friends with Willard after making fun of the guy's cowboy hat.  Boys.

16:02 - solid masturbation joke.

16:40 - I guess Kevin Bacon is so cool he gets college girls to dance even though he's still in high school?  Willard is eating this shit up.  Insert previous masturbation joke here.

17:46 - solid burn by making up that whole story.  Nice.  Kevin Bacon is so damn cool.

18:25 - Kevin Bacon's response to finding out dancing is illegal is "jump back."  What a great response.  I'm using that forever now.

19:40 - solid "Who's on first" wordplay with Men at Work and The Police.

21:23 - what is this music and darkness at the preacher's home?  And his very calm, very creepily chill attitude towards Ariel listening to pop music at The Spot is much scarier than if he was just yelling.  He's probably one of those dads who doesn't get angry, he gets "disappointed."

21:48 - not getting emotional creates a distance.  Ariel just wants some sort of response and he's just like "I can't always look out for you."  Oh man, she is eating this shit up.  Why does Ariel make bad decisions with the men in her life?  This scene right here.

23:30 - deer antler pick up truck guy's name is Chuck.  OF COURSE IT IS.  We just had our first Chuck vs. Kevin Bacon verbal stand-off.  Kevin Bacon won easily.  Not a fair fight.

24:22 - never seen somebody get so excited work at a steel mill as Kevin Bacon is right there.

24:46 - woah, Ariel coming on strong to Kevin Bacon right now.  Must be how hard he shut down Chuck a minute ago.

24:50 - never mind, she's delivering an invitation to fight Chuck.

25:26 - oh man, Kevin's smile when Ariel tells him she volunteered to invite him to Chuck's fight.  He's so into it.  He's so cocky.  He's so cool.

26:20 - Ariel's pants unzipped with Chuck?  Damn girl.

26:55 - Ariel wants out of this small town.  Chuck tell her she's as small town as they come.  GET OUT ARIEL GET OUT.

27:05 - "A chicken race?  With tractors?"  Kevin Bacon is not impressed with Chuck's choice for the manliness competition.

27:54 - wait is Chuck smoking weed right now?  THIS IS A NEW REVELATION FOR ME.  This movie has like a PG rating or something.  How?  Pants unzipped all over the place, cousins calling each other foxes, catty jokes about teen pregnancy resulting from teen promiscuity, and drugs.  This is hardcore stuff.

28:28 - what state are they in?  There are hills in the background.  Hmm...

29:00 - Appreciating the fact that Chuck turned on his boombox so they could listen to "I Need a Hero" during tractor chicken race.

30:24 - so much I don't understand about small towns, I realize as I watch this tractor chicken fight.

30:40 - oh damn, Kevin Bacon's shoelace is caught!  He wants to jump but he can't!

30:59 - AWESOME THAT'S A WIN FOR KEV KEV.

31:54 - oh, Sarah Jessica Parker is giving Ariel the scoop on Kevin Bacon's schedule.  Ariel has a crush.  Nice.  Chuck is no good.  Kevin is great.

32:20 - "I never thought he had all his dogs barking anyway."  Sarah Jessica Parker talking about Chuck.  Man, she has some killer lines in this movie.

33:09 - everybody smokes weed in this movie.  Holy smokes.  Literally.  I have not seen a single alcoholic beverage (even bad boy Chuck was having a Coca Cola at The Spot, which, like, I know he was driving, but there is no way that guy is not guzzling a beer while driving that truck past sundown) but I've seen people smoking the marijuana plant multiple times.

33:12 - Kevin Bacon already has his own weed dealer.  I was not this cool in high school, and I'm from a suburb, which is at least a little cooler than a small town.  Right?  Right?

33:25 - woah, Kevin Bacon got set up by that kid with the Dylann Roof haircut to have a joint in his hand, and the teacher caught him, so Kevin... runs?  He runs for it?  Woah.  I would not be cut out for this small town.
The moral of this story is never trust a white kid with a bowl haircut past the age of 8.

33:49 - everyone is out to get Kevin Bacon because he messed with Chuck and likes Slaughterhouse Five.  Damn.

35:31 - Kevin Bacon drives into an abandoned warehouse smoking what I have to assume is a joint.  Been a long day, buddy.

35:46 - We have our first alcohol sighting!!  Kevin Bacon was drinking a beer while driving???  Dude, not even Chuck does that.  Kevin.  Buddy.  I know it's been a rough day but this is a PG movie so maybe cool it with the drinking for the kids watching at home.

36:07 - these flashbacks are intense, as is this 80s song right now.

36:15 - Kevin Bacon throws his beer bottle and then starts dancing.  This scene is about to get incredible.  Empty warehouse 80s dancing fueled by drugs and alcohol.

36:34 - actually comforting to know Kevin Bacon dances his feelings because now I know I'm not the only one who does that.  Although for me it's typically Cher or Fleetwood Mac or Nicki Minaj.

36:43 - also I never do a cartwheel with no hands.  Is that an aerial?  Is this actually Kevin Bacon dancing?

36:47 - taking the sweater off.  He's for serious.

37:03 - which movie has the most quintessential 80s dance montage?  Footloose?  Flashdance?  Dirty Dancing?  Food for thought.

37:21 - Kevin Bacon just grabbed a rope and swung on it across the warehouse in the dark.  I am reminded that he's been drinking and smoking.

37:29 - in this sequence it is painfully obvious this is not Kevin Bacon but a stunt double.

38:00 - this is the second time we've seen ol' Kev here do straight up gymnastics, and that's never brought up in the movie as a plot point.  I want to know how Kevin, whose mother is so broke she has to move from Chicago (I assume after dad's death?  They allude to that very briefly) to her brother's home in some podunk town in the midwest, got all those gymnastic lessons.  The midwest in the 80s is a dancing, gymnastic, weed-filled Adventureland.

38:04 - with great music.

38:11 - Ariel showed up.  I'll say it.  Stalker status.  Guess SJP is a pretty good sleuth after all.

39:20 - wait I'm confused.  Kevin Bacon has been very interested in Ariel and now all of a sudden she's super forward and he's all "bet you been kissed a lot" which is a shitty, slut-shaming thing to say.  I will chalk it up to him being too nervous to compete with the other fellas.

41:48 - Ariel is now standing in front of a train.  Does she have a death wish?  Or is she unable to get off without some form of extreme adrenaline rush?

43:09 - Ariel getting caught by Preacher John Lithgow.  Hasn't she done this before?  Sneaking out, I mean.

43:20 - "It's kind of hard to impose a curfew on the young people in my congregation that I can't even enforce in my own home."  Jump back!  The preacher in this town imposes curfews?  Damn son.

43:48 - Preacher John Lithgow says no to his daughter hanging out with Kevin Bacon but where was he when she was fooling around with that idiot Chuck?

44:14 - "There ain't nothing to do with me, Daddy.  You like it or not, this is it.  It doesn't get much better."  Ariel, that's so freaking great.  What a great line.

44:28 - Kevin Bacon got kicked off the gymnastics team.  I want to know more about a 1980s midwestern boys' high school gymnastics team.  Also, I understand the point - Kevin Bacon can't be screwing around with the preacher's daughter - but this raises a couple questions.  First, can't athletes kind of just get away with that thing if they're good enough, or is that football only?  Second, isn't he good enough?  We've seen him, and he's excellent.  Third, if the preacher is so powerful, how come Chuck is allowed to do whatevs when he's obvi a dumbass but Kevin Bacon gets punished?

46:29 - John Lithgow has this speech on lock.

47:50 - joint sighting #4

48:17 - also, did Chuck just go peacefully into the night when Kevin Bacon showed up for his girl?  Haven't seen him.

49:27 - Ariel is with super cool dancer man Kevin Bacon on this double date at this bar across state lines, and SJP is stuck with Willard who won't dance.  SJP bopping in her chair to the music and looking longingly at KB and Ariel is one of the most heartbreaking things I've seen in ages.

50:05 - to be fair, it might be a cigarette, but I'll call this joint sighting #5 for funsies.

50:23 - title song right here!  KICK OFF YOUR SUNDAY SHOES.

50:49 - SJP finally has enough during title song and gets up to dance, leaving Willard alone with his beers.

51:18 - uh oh, SJP is dancing with another man...............

52:25 - SJP dancing with ANOTHER man and it's more intimate.  Willard is not happy.  SJP reminds him again NO FIGHTS but like obvi that's about to happen.  The guy tells Willard to "flake off" which is amazing.  Flake off.
SJP reminds him NO FIGHTS one last time for good measure.

52:38 - well, no fights.  Willard got punched in the nose.  If only he had agreed to dance to begin with.

53:57 - Ariel's older brother was killed in a drunk driving accident on that bridge.  Hence no dancing.  Listen, I get it.  Dancing is the worst.  The WORST.  But I don't see the connection to drinking and driving on a bridge.

55:54 - John Lithgow calls Ariel out on her lie, says she wasn't at a friend's place.  Ariel's all "but maybe you should care more about what I'm doing when I'm right here in front of you because you only care what I'm doing when I'm not around."  And then he slaps her and he's like "oh shit this is real" so he's not a monster just misguided in his concern and unable to open up emotionally.

57:33 - Mrs. Minister, actress Dianne Wiest, is laying it down for John Lithgow.  "You can lift a congregation up so high they have to look down to see heaven.  But it's the one-to-one where you need a little work."  Drop the microphone, get out.

58:14 - ah, here it is.  Chuck set his goons on Kevin Bacon while he's out telling people about the dance he's throwing.

58:38 - but now Kevin has friends and they helped him out.  As did Ariel.  Nice.

58:55 - Kevin Bacon is confused about going to City Hall to demand the rights to a dance.  The best place for this conversation where Willard explains this to him is the boys' locker room.  I have never had to endure being naked in a locker room.  High school in the 80s was a strange and cruel place.

59:36 - kudos to the actor who plays Willard, because he is phenomenal at playing dumb for laughs.  That open-mouthed look is funny every time.

59:53 - Kevin Bacon is teaching Willard how to dance to the song "Let's Hear it for the Boy."  One of the great things about this film is how it takes songs from the Footloose musical and incorporates it into the film without the film itself being a musical.  So good.

1:03:27 - John Lithgow not on board to burn a book.  All of a sudden he's the voice of reason.  It took one conversation with his wife.  Dianne Wiest is literally that powerful.

1:04:26 - wait, let me clarify.  Chuck is done with high school but still hanging around the high school to surprise his old flame Ariel?  Gross.  Gross gross gross.

1:04:30 - joint #6

1:04:58 - "Hey I'm not stupid!" says the guy with the deer antlers on his truck.

1:06:03 - damn, as if we didn't already know Chuck was the worst.  Calls Ariel a bitch in heat and a slut who would sleep with anyone and then beats the shit out of her.

1:06:42 - Kevin Bacon very casual about the fact that Ariel just got the shit beaten out of her.

1:06:57 - Kevin has no beef with Ariel's father, he just wants to dance.  Very deep.  But realizes his words are a little harsh to a woman who just got beat up.

1:08:31 - ugh they're finally making out.  Finally.  Just not sure if Kevin Bacon is all that nice to her honestly.

1:09:36 - "I just know that when kids dance together they become sexually irresponsible."  Yep.

1:09:42 - Dianne Wiest also thought that was a stupid thing to say.  She's laughing.  Nice.

1:09:47 - "You talk like that is the only thing that gets them excited."  Dianne understands most teenagers don't like the act of dancing itself, just the promise of sexual irresponsibility that is sure to follow.

1:10:23 - John Lithgow is bummed by his wife's laughter and turns off the lights.  Dianne gets to the heart of the matter - not undoing their son's death.  Okay this is heavy.

1:10:32 - John Lithgow is trying to say it's about spiritual leadership but Dianne is all "you can't be a father to everybody."  Stop hiding, Johnny.

1:11:03 - Ariel and SJP tryna get people to go to the town meeting to fight the dance ban.  One guy ignores Ariel, so she tries to kick him, and he says "I'll lay you out flat."  Small towns, man.

1:11:09 - Ariel still has her black eye.  Kevin Bacon makes an obligatory comment about it but yo I don't think he's taking this very seriously.  Also, a guy threatened to lay her out flat while she was still sporting that black eye.  There are so many things I didn't pick up on when I saw this movie as a kid.

1:12:00 - Kevin doesn't know what he's going to say at the meeting.  Ariel pulls out a Bible with earmarks on it.  Kevin Bacon is dismissive.  Come on dude are you seriously not putting two and two together on this???????

1:12:06 - oh, now he gets it.  Passages that aren't anti-dancing.  Maybe even pro-dancing.

1:12:18 - Kevin Bacon asks the preacher's daughter how she knew the Bible so well.  "Are you kidding?" she asks.  Rightfully so.  Come on, Kevin.

1:12:42 - someone threw a brick through a window.  Teenagers.  If it was John Lithgow's house, there goes the dancing.  If it was Kevin Bacon's house... I mean, I am just not getting the hate for this kid.  Doesn't everyone want to dance?  And be sexually irresponsible?  Like, isn't this kid super lame for hating on Kevin Bacon's idea?  Teenagers.  What.

1:12:55 - the brick says "burn in hell."  Like, who does that.  Religious small towns in the 1980s, I tell you.

1:13:18 - Kevin Bacon's mom lost her job over Kevin Bacon wanting to dance?  Jeez.  Jesus.  What a horrendous place to live your day-to-day.

1:13:31 - her boss told her she oughta stay home and be a proper mother.  Oh my god.  Women's rights.

1:14:37 - why this dance?  Why this town?  Because Kevin Bacon's dad left and Kevin blamed himself.  Honestly, this movie is all over the place on justifications.  Sometimes simplest answer is the best.

1:15:44 - going through with the town hall debate anyway.  Cool.

1:16:50 - just clarifying that the preacher is on the city council.

1:17:05 - "fraught with genuine peril."  John Lithgow's response to a high school dance.  No mention of brick in window.

1:17:22 - Dianne Wiest's face right now though when hearing her husband talk about "spiritual corruption."  Like "are you fucking kidding with this right now."

1:19:53 - funny speech where Kevin Bacon doesn't know the Bible.  Makes me wish they had let Ariel speak though - why is she letting a boy fight her fights for her?  Most importantly, very solid pronunciation of "Ecclesiastes" for someone who is unfamiliar with the Bible.

1:21:03 - Kevin Bacon just walks out after dropping the metaphorical microphone.  Doesn't he want to see how they vote?  Or do they not vote yet?

1:21:27 - Kevin Bacon's super cool boss pointed out that they already had voted even before the speech.

1:21:46 - "What are you gonna do now?" KB's boss asks.  "It's over."  "What if it ain't?"  Oh damn.  KB's boss pointing out that arbitrary city lines and arbitrary city rules can arbitrarily work out in one's favor.  Now you just gotta convince John Lithgow to be chill and then everyone's chill.

1:23:32 - only just barely see Ariel's black eye now.  Parents have done nothing.  If Kevin Bacon is such a bad kid what about Chuck??????  If dating Ariel gets you kicked off the gymnastics team then what does actually fucking her and then beating the crap out of her get you??????????????????
Nothing.

1:23:54 - "[Kevin Bacon] made a lot of people stop and think."  Ariel.  Girl.  He made people think using YOUR WORDS and YOUR RESEARCH.  Take credit.

1:24:51 - Damn.  Ariel's got stones, admitting to her dad she's not even a virgin.  John Lithgow not happy.

1:25:18 - John Lithgow stopping a book burning and about to give a rousing speech.  I wonder if his speech against book burning will have some similar points to Kevin Bacon's speech against the ban on dancing.

1:26:14 - Kevin Bacon and John Lithgow have a sitdown.  Talking about John Lithgow's son and Kevin Bacon's father.

1:27:29 - aw he was just asking permission to take Ariel to senior prom.  Taking away a woman's agency has never been so heartwarming.

1:27:54 - "I just don't know if I believe in everything you believe in.  But I believe in you."  Ariel to her dad.  KILLER line.

1:29:43 - John Lithgow delivering a tough sermon after making some tough decisions.  "If we don't ever trust our children, how will we ever raise them to be trustworthy?"  Still, no chance he's relenting on the dance thing.

1:30:18 - 80s music starts playing as John Lithgow starts talking about the dance.  It's hopeful... it's hopeful... OH DAMN PRAY TO GUIDE THEM IN THEIR ENDEAVORS.  HE CHANGED HIS MIND.

1:30:45 - perfectly choreographed motorbikes to prom?  All we had was a stupid limo.

1:31:47 - oh never mind, not actual prom yet.  Class is just decorating for prom.  Willard can't blow up his own balloons.  

1:32:12 - Ariel in her prom dress > Molly Ringwald in her prom dress.  Talk about actually Pretty in Pink.

1:32:35 - Dianne Wiest gives Ariel the corsage for two reasons.  1) Kevin Bacon has proven to not be a great boyfriend and probably forgot.  2) Women's lib

1:32:56 - OH WHAT.  Dianne Wiest didn't even buy the corsage, she just put it on Ariel.  John Lithgow bought it.  But he'll deny it for... reasons.

1:33:12 - oh damn, Kevin Bacon lost track of what he was going to say because Ariel is SO BREATHTAKINGLY BEAUTIFUL.

1:33:56 - taking ol' Kevin Bacon's beat-up bug to prom.  We just had a stupid limo.

1:34:37 -  no one dancing at prom.  Probably the lame music they're playing.

1:35:40 - ok, Kevin Bacon is here.  Time to start the party.

1:36:23 - dope sweater John Lithgow is wearing as he checks up on his baby girl.  KB's boss, apparently Andy, says hi as if he didn't have a major part to play in the dance happening to begin with.

1:37:22 - UH OH.  Chuck coming in right after Willard and SJP show up on a motorbike (really regretting that stupid limo).  And he brought his stupid friends.

1:38:48 - Willard trying not to fight because of SJP but then she get manhandled and he gets attacked.  "KILL THE SON OF A BITCH."  Nice.  SJP gets all the best lines.

1:39:52 - after KB and Willard get rid of Chuck and his buddies, Kevin Bacon comes running back inside and yells at everyone to start dancing as glitters falls onto his face.  The 80s.



Great film.  Very 80s in some parts (music, glitter, women, feathered hair) but man.  Kevin Bacon.  That kid is a star, I tell you.

Political Correctness in Comedy

I'm late writing about this, but Jerry Seinfeld said a thing about a week ago and people either got very upset or praised him as a man finally brave enough to speak up for comedy.  He mentioned the young generation was too politically correct, and that why he doesn't play colleges anymore.  Chris Rock said something similar at some other earlier date.
As proof that college kids throw around words like "racist" and "sexist" willy-nilly, Seinfeld mentioned an incident with his fourteen-year-old daughter.  I don't know what generation he's talking about.  It sort of just sounds like an old man complaining about youths, which in that case is legit.  I find youths more intolerable with each passing year.
The incident involved Seinfeld's wife asking her daughter if she wanted to go somewhere to meet boys, and the daughter said "mom, that's sexist."  Seinfeld decided that sort of response is why comedy is dead.
First of all, do not get upset about a thing Jerry Seinfeld said about political correctness.  Seriously, guys.  What a waste of everyone's time.
Secondly, his daughter's response to her mother is hilarious.  I mean, objectively hilarious.  Seinfeld disagrees, which is odd, because I thought comedians were trained to see the comedy in everyday situations.  Isn't observational comedy Seinfeld's bread and butter?  But Seinfeld's comedy is very male, and there is no room for a female perspective.  This is where people who agree with Seinfeld will tune out.  Here, I am being politically correct.  However, I am not criticizing Seinfeld for his maleness in his comedy.  I watch The League, okay.  I think men have the capacity to be very funny.  All I'm saying is that a teenage girl complaining that meeting boys is sexist is funny, and maybe you have to be a female to understand that humor.
Third of all, a fourteen-year-old throwing around the word sexist is very different than a college student throwing around the word sexist.  If you don't want to play colleges because you don't want to play colleges, hey, you're Jerry Seinfeld.  Don't play colleges.  I think playing colleges sounds awful.  You don't even need to defend yourself.  There is something that sounds intrinsically not chill about the idea of playing colleges.  But a fourteen-year-old who grew up wealthy and suburban is obviously not going to have a good grasp on sexism and racism because she hasn't faced much of either.  Your fourteen-year-old daughter is trying to figure out who she is outside of boys, but she doesn't know enough yet to figure out how to state that perspective without sounding ridiculous.  She doesn't have the life experience.  She hasn't done the research.  She just knows she wants to be more than someone who likes boys, so when Mom suggests meeting boys, she gets sassy and throws around the word sexism.  It's funny, right?  Don't you remember the stupid shit you said when you were fourteen and trying to figure yourself out?  How is this not funny?  How are you not able to do a bit about this?  Seinfeld mentioned Louis CK as somehow able to make comedy about political correctness, and the reason is because you can practically hear how different Louis CK's response would have been had this been his daughter.  Louis CK is constantly growing and learning and changing his routine.  He listens to critics, decides whether or not the critiques are valid, and changes or doesn't change accordingly.  That's why his comedy is so good, so fresh, so relevant.  Seinfeld hears his daughter say "that's sexist" and immediately shuts down without bothering to find the funny.  Louis CK would have analyzed the crap out of it and come up with at least something other than "ugh, kids today, amirite?"
And finally.  Political correctness is killing comedy?  If this was even remotely true, then why is comedy is good right now?  Think about how many amazing comedians and comedy groups are performing.  Think about how many sketch shows and sitcoms are on the air right now.  Think about how many great comedies are coming to theaters this year.  Comedy is so good right now.  Take a look at Comedy Central's line-up and tell me political correctness is killing comedy.  Take a gander at FXX's line-up and tell me comedy isn't thriving despite the PC Police.  Look at the HBO shows whose seasons just wrapped up last night!  Look at who's touring these days!  Look at who's releasing books!  Look at who's creating content!  I can't even imagine looking at comedy today and saying "yep, comedy is dead, thanks a bunch fill-in-the-blank reason."  It's just such an idiotic statement.  It's especially mind-boggling to imagine someone working in the field and lamenting the state of comedy today.

If you want to be a curmudgeonly old man who hates the young people and misses the old days, Jerry, that's fine.  It's just a very old, very tired sentiment.  Also, I'm pretty sure you'll never read this, so everybody wins.

Stories from Her Perspective: Entourage

In the wake of the new Entourage movie coming out, I am unfortunately constantly reminded of that horrendous seventh season.

I enjoyed the first several seasons of Entourage.  Vince was boring, but at least he was likable (which, in later seasons, he wasn't).  Ari was funny.  Johnny Drama was the butt of every joke, so it was easier to take his odious personality.  E was a straight shooter, a nice guy, until he became a Nice Guy.  Turtle was an idiot, but then he slimmed down and became the one guy you actually rooted for at the end of the series.  For season eight of Entourage, I have nothing negative to say about Turtle.

Entourage has always had a well-documented woman problem.  There are no major female characters.  Sloan comes closest, or maybe even Babs, and they're hardly "major" characters the way the five main characters are.  That's fine.  This is a guy's show.  I genuinely don't mind a show of mostly guys.  None of my favorite movies pass the Bechdel Test.  That doesn't mean the story is bad or even sexist.  It just means it's a mostly guy show.

The woman problem comes from, in my opinion, whether or not the story makes sense when you tell it from Her perspective.  If there are giant leaps in logic that determine a woman's behavior in a Dude story, that's where the woman problem comes in.

(My favorite movies, for the record, are Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure, The Big Lebowski, and Black Dynamite.  In Bill & Ted, the princesses go from marrying royal ugly dudes in the middle ages to dating Bill & Ted in the 1980s and being introduced to credit cards and something called the mall.  You get their perspective - that is a giant step forward any way you look at it.  In Big Lebowski, Bunny Lebowski wants to have a good time and get paid.  Maude wants a baby.  Black Dynamite is a perfectly done spoof, and you would have to be crazy to not want some of Black Dynamite's loving.  Having a male-dominated movie or TV show does not give your story a woman problem.  Having stupid woman characters whose actions make no sense gives your story a woman problem.)

Let's start with Sophia.  Sophia is played by Alice Eve.  Below is Sophia.

Wow.  Sophia is a beautiful woman.  High five to Sophia.

Sophia is a renowned and respected journalist.  She moves in circles with major political and economic figures.  She is extremely educated.  She requests multiple times, at first politely and then firmly, that Vince stop hitting on her during their interview.  Vince thinks he's being cute and ignores her request.  Vince is a dipshit.

Sophia finally writes down her exact experiences with Vince in an article for Vanity Fair.  Vince doesn't like the idea that he has to deal with the consequences of his very real actions and asks for a second chance.  Also, he continues to ask for a date, because he has learned literally nothing.  Sophia, renowned and respected journalist who works with politicians and economists and world leaders, keeps giving this entitled actor the time of day for pretty much no reason.

Finally, Vince decides to go back to all his ex-girlfriends and get them to make a video of how great he is.  He gives Sophia the video.  She marries him.

Let's go through Sophia's thought process here.

"Oh, hello world, my name is Sophia.  I am a respected journalist.  Do you know how hard that is?  In a dying industry of fewer and fewer movers and shakers, I emerge as brilliant.  Yes, please, hold your applause, thank you.  Look at me.  I am a sight to behold.  I am out of your league.  I demand intellectual respect.  I demand all your attention.  I am here to do my job, damn it.

"Ugh, fluff piece.  Have to interview this overexposed, overrated actor.  Great.  Oh, he's hitting on me.  Sir, can you not?  Oh, he thinks I'm joking, because he is actually used to women throwing themselves at him.  Snore.  Yawn.  Gross.  Wow, he will not stop.  He cannot answer a question without flirting.  This is insane.  I'm not even being full of myself right now, he literally cannot help himself.  That's pathetic.  It's borderline sad.  How is he so incapable of interacting with a female without the intention of fucking her?  This is ridiculous.  This is my article.  I am writing about the real Vinny Chase right now.

"Oh, he doesn't like it.  Duh.  Maybe he shouldn't have acted that way.  Oh my god, is he using this article as an excuse to get a date?  Does he have a reading comprehension problem?  Is this real?  How else do I express my desire for him to stop hitting on me?  In what way can I express that desire so that he finally says to himself, 'huh, maybe I should stop hitting on her?'  Literally I am out of ideas.  I have been nice about it.  I have been stern about it. I have written an article about it.  The man is unstoppable.

"La la la, few days to live my life without any interaction with Vincent Chase.  Oh my god.  What is this video.  Is this real?  Fine.  Fine, I will watch the video.  It's a bunch of his old girlfriends talking about how great he was as a boyfriend.  This is important, because doesn't everyone hate their exes?  Wow.  He has a lot of exes.  Jesus Christ.  That is more exes than I expected.  Can some of these even count as exes?  How many of these are just one-night stands?  I mean, really?  

"Video keeps going.  Oh, keeps going.  How cute.  Oh wow.  The cutest.  I'm in love now.

"Well, I'm convinced.  Now that I know he was a good boyfriend, which is all that I needed to know, I can finally give in to his charms.  We should get married.  Let that be a lesson to all men hitting on women in inappropriate situations.  If she says no, you just used the wrong tack.  Try again."

Apparently they get divorced before the movie takes place, which is literally a week after the show ends.  So that marriage, of Vincent Chase to a respected journalist he continued to hit on despite her many pleas to just let her do her job, lasted all of a few days.  So that whole thing where Vincent wins in that situation, even though he has no business winning?  It was to be with a girl for less than a week.

Look forward to more in this series about:

Emma Stone from Superbad

Tara from Sons of Anarchy

Sook-yin Park in The Interview

Is he okay?

Recently there was an article about a 19-year-old track star at UPenn who ran off a seven-story building to her death.  Her depression has become overwhelming and she thought suicide was the best answer.  It's a tragic story about a young girl with a bright future and a loving family who wasn't getting the treatment she needed to deal with her illness.

The story came with a trigger warning, and while I have mixed feelings about trigger warnings in general, I cried off and on for the next few hours of the day.  I don't have any close friends who have committed suicide.  I don't have any children.  For most of the article, I was a sympathetic bystander - not emotionally invested in the story, but sorry for the girl and her loved ones.

However, the article eventually came to the part of the story when the parents were first told their child was hurt.  That moment is present in all of these stories, and I'm somehow blinded by it every time.  In this instance, the police called the girl's parents after they found her on the pavement, cold and unmoving, and told them something had happened.

"Is she okay?" They asked.

The answer was no.  Because the answer is always no in that situation.

The question itself is filled with an optimism that, rationally, isn't earned.  If the police are calling you about your child, your child is not okay.  But your mind can't be rational at that point.  What you're about to be told is something you don't want to hear, something you aren't able to process, and you're begging to be told something that doesn't make sense, because otherwise you're about to find out something you might never recover from.

I was about to turn 21 when I called my grandparents one morning in Boston to thank them for the birthday card they sent me.  Grandpa asked me if I had heard about the Johnson* boy, and that it was too bad what had happened.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"It's in the paper."

"What paper?"

"Oh, the Star I think."

"What happened?"

"He went hiking by himself and he fell."

"Is he okay?"

Grandpa had started the story with "shame about the Johnson boy."  If I had bothered to think about it, or wanted to think about it, I would have known the answer without asking.

"Well, no, he... He died."

Everything inside me seized up.  The Johnson family was close to ours.  My dad had been the best man at their wedding.  The daughter was seven months younger than me, and the son (now deceased) was within a year younger than my brother.  They had had some issues during their high school years, some really tough times in their family, but the daughter was doing well in college now, and the son had just graduated high school, and it felt like they were finally out of the woods and that things were going to be okay.  

Grandpa tried to keep talking to me, asking me about school and my social life, but I wasn't much good at responding.  I needed confirmation that he was right, that this boy was dead, before I would allow myself to believe it.  Maybe there was a mistake, somebody got the story wrong, maybe the Johnson boy was actually just fine.

I ran to my room and went on Facebook. His Facebook name was Bill Cosby.  This was before it was common knowledge that Bill Cosby was a serial rapist, and most people still thought of Bill Cosby as the square who told kid-friendly jokes and wore awesome sweaters.  It was a dumb thing, a very eighteen-year-old boy thing, to change your Facebook name to Bill Cosby.  It was funny too, in that very stupid, teenage boy kind of way.  It was funny for the same reason farts are funny, or the word "boobs" is funny, or wearing a DARE shirt while smoking weed is funny.  Making the square, kid-friendly, pudding-loving comedian from the 80s your profile name is, in teenage boy terms, hilarious.

Comment after comment from his friends lamenting his passing and how they couldn't believe it and how this couldn't be real confirmed Grandpa had the facts right.  I immediately started bawling.  Bill Cosby was a good kid, and funny and fun to hang out with, and pretty fucking smart, and it just sucked so much that we weren't going to be able to see what happened next with him.

I called my parents but they weren't answering.  Mom was at yoga or brunch or something like that.  My brother was still asleep.  Dad was playing basketball with his Saturday morning crew and wasn't answering his phone.  I left Dad a message telling him to call me as soon as possible.

Finally, an hour later, I heard from him.

"Hey Caitles!"  That is a nickname I tried to give myself in 10th grade that only caught on after I got to college, well after the period of time I wanted it to stick.  I suppose that is the penance for giving yourself a nickname - it sticks when it feels like sticking.  

"Hi.  How are you?"

"Oh, just ducky.  Played basketball.  It's a beautiful day.  Gonna run some errands and then relax in the backyard."

It sunk in that my dad had no idea his best friend's son had just died the day before.  I felt even worse.

"Have you talked to Mr. Johnson?" I asked.

"Not recently.  So how are you?"

"Have you talked to Mr. Johnson?"

"No.  Why are you asking that?"

"Something happened..." My voice caught.

"I got a missed call from an 818 number I didn't recognize.  Maybe that was him."

Mr. Johnson doesn't have a cell phone, even now, so that sounded like it was well within the realm of possibility, for my dad to not have his best friend's phone number saved.

"Something happened to Bill.  He went hiking and he fell-"

"Is he okay?" My dad asked.  He sounded angry but I knew he wasn't.  When Dad gets panicked his voice gets harsher, as if yelling scares away whatever thing he's currently afraid of.

At this point I was sobbing again.  

"No.  Dad, he's dead."

"I gotta go," my dad said, and promptly hung up on me.  

The story about the girl's suicide got me thinking about Bill Cosby Johnson for the rest of the day, and I had trouble getting the energy up to go see the shows I needed to see that night (for friends, for class, etc).  I kept going back to that moment - "is he okay?"- when you hold on to that one last optimist shred of hope that whatever happened to your kid is fixable, reversible, not all that bad.  I kept imagining being in the room with those parents when they got that phone call, as their entire lives came crashing about them.  I kept remembering my dad telling me how great his day was until I told him it wasn't.  I kept imagining Mr. Johnson calling the search party for his son when Bill didn't come home, and his face when they found him.  I kept remembering my dad telling me how depressed Mr. Johnson was, and how he'd go to bed some nights hoping he wouldn't wake up.

I remembered there was only one memory my brain felt capable of going back to in the weeks that followed Bill's death.  It was when we were kids, and Bill and his sister and I all went hiking by the creek near my house.  The parents were in my yard, barbecuing and having a great time.  Bill fell into the creek.  He was only down to his belly button, but it felt like mortal danger.  And I kept shouting at him "get out!  Get out!" But I was frozen and couldn't move to help him.  And finally he got out, and I had done nothing about it, and maybe I couldn't help anybody ever, and now that same boy was dead.

I was having a long day when I read that article about the UPenn student's suicide.  I had work from 9-6.  I had two shows, one for a friend and one for class, that I had to see.  And I cried for a while in memory of young Bill's death, because it had been a while since I thought about it, and because it still doesn't seem fair.

"Is he okay?"

No.  And he's not going to be.

Coming of Age: Ruminations of Pregnophobia and Tampons

You know, adulthood is kind of terrifying still, a few years into it, pretty much everyday.  Like, if you get fired, how do you pay your bills?  And how many of your friends sympathy text you before having some fancy dinner at a sitdown restaurant you can't afford anymore?  Any time I go to a restaurant I'm still worried I'm making a huge mistake and I'll lose my job tomorrow and I will regret spending my money on this nonsense.

Or you go on Facebook, and you see that one popular kid from high school - the one who asked you back in 11th grade why you have a picture of the PE teacher on your shirt when it's clearly Walter Sobchak and The Dude, and she tries to make fun of you about it but all you're thinking is how much hipper and cooler and more worldly you are, so you walk away mostly confused about how she's supposed to be higher up the food chain than you are - you see that girl works out regularly and has a job in business analytics making six figures a year and goes on vacation and talks about how big of a nerd she is because she took a picture in front of a museum and she's just so fucking happy, like some kind of... put-together asshole.

Or maybe you don't get fired and it's just the opposite - you get promoted at that job you were just supposed to do until the other, better thing came along.  And you tell yourself, "hey, I'm supporting myself, fuck the haters" until you see your friends getting their dream jobs, or, even worse, your dream job. 

You go to a friend's house and you don't see the wires for the TV anymore and everything is organized and put away and fully decorated and maybe they have a case of freshly-cut flowers and you realize maybe it's time to be embarrassed about still having a futon in your living room.

I like adulthood though.  It comes with a driver's license, an ability to rent a car, alcohol, and people taking you seriously when you have no right to be taken seriously.  That last thing is so dope.  I love when people pay attention to me.

To get to adulthood from childhood we have to go through puberty.  Of the three stages I don't think there's even a question adulthood is the best.  Would you rather be an adult or a fourteen-year-old?  I remember my mom driving me home from a soccer game one day.  I was thirteen.  And I started crying for literally no reason.  Hormones?  I mean, we won the game.  I got along with my teammates.  It was mid season.  I played the whole game.  My mom panicked when she saw me.  Why was her kid crying?  She likes for things to make sense.  She's very rational.  She wants to fix a thing if something is wrong.  But how do you fix a thing if you don't know what's wrong?  Now when I cry I can tell you why.  I have a much better hold of my emotions.  That's another really great thing about adulthood.

But things get weird physically too.  I have a handle on my body now - sort of. I'm on the pill but I always need to borrow a tampon for my first bleed each month.  It's a simple enough explanation - if I prepare for my period, it will not come, and if it does not come, then I am pregnant.  I have five weeks of laundry in the basket and clothes on the floor and paintings I bought that need to be hung around the apartment but I don't have any nails even though I work right next to a hardware store.  I could not have a baby right now.  There's just no way.  So I let my superstition play out each month and I always borrow a tampon and look at me now I'm still not pregnant.

I have been afraid of waking up pregnant since I was thirteen.  I graduated high school still a virgin.  It's just this phobia I have.  Still.  At 25.

When the Period Fairy first struck my cycle, I was 12.  I remember bringing a pad with me into the bathroom at soccer camp.  My teammate asked me if I had my period and I told her that it was actually my second period.  She had to know I was not a period noob.

My mom and my doctor started to recommend tampons.  LOL.  Like I'm about to shove something up there and keep it there for eight hours.  My doctor gently suggested it.  I have never felt more betrayed by a doctor.  My mother was more insistent.  She said it would be easier for me to move around.  She bought tampons with cardboard applicators and told me to stick it up there with my hands and take the cardboard out while I'm having my period time and I was just not into it.  No no no, no thank you, no.  I am happy with my pads.

My mom kept insisting so I tried it again on a day I didn't have school and she didn't have work.  "How does it feel?" She asked.

"Okay," I said.  "I feel it a little bit but it doesn't hurt that bad so I'll get used to it."

"No.  You did it wrong.  You shouldn't feel it at all."

"No, it's in there."

"Not if you feel it.  Take it out."

So I took it out and tried again and failed again and went back to my pads.

Still my mom wasn't giving up, so next month I tried it again and I did it!  I got it up there!  Fully up there!  Complete success!

...except the applicator got stuck.

I called my mom into the bathroom and she was pretty grossed out because there's my vagina and there's the tampon string coming out and on the other side is a bloody piece of cotton and there's too many bodily fluids and it's just so gross.

I don't think they tell moms how to deal with your kid's first twelve or twenty periods.  On the one hand, my mom wanted to help.  On the other, she didn't want to see my period this close.

So I was freaking out because the applicator was stuck and maybe I had to go to the hospital because I was pretty sure this was how you get toxic shock syndrome.  And Mom was telling me to just pull it out but I knew this was going to hurt so she had to do it.

And God bless her, but Mom did it.  And it was painless and easy and I've been wearing tampons ever since.

A year or so later my mother decided I was a pro now and she was going to save some money by purchasing tampons without applicators.  That was obviously a ridiculous notion and I was not, thank you very much, going to use a tampon without some application assistance.  I'll use cardboard but I draw the line there.  

"That's how they do it in Europe," she said, but we are American and Europeans don't shower or shave so the personal hygiene thing is not their strong suit.  I know this isn't true, I know that Europeans shower and shave, but my mom was also wrong because i have never been to a place where I couldn't find a tampon with an applicator - not here, not in Europe, not anywhere.  I understand the tampon is a relatively recent invention, and my mom lived in France in 1975.  This just further confirms my love of the 21st century.

I loved tampons so much I converted my friends into tampon girls instead of pad girls.  One of my friends bled on my sheets at a sleepover while wearing one but remained on that tampon train despite the embarrassment because tampons were just that great.  Another friend told me that tampons were a way to lose your virginity (which, as a teenage good girl, is a big part of your human worth) and I couldn't believe a fifteen-year-old could say that with a straight face now that the Internet has been invented and we all have cell phones.  And of course, there were rumors that, once you started having sex, you wouldn't enjoy it as much because the tampon would desensitize you.

That, my friend, is a small penis.

Anyway, puberty is confusing and so are social interactions, but now I buy my own tampons and wear down people into becoming my friends, so things are definitely on the up from where I was twelve years ago.  I remember getting frustrated with my period when I was younger.  I had cramps.  I never had a tampon or knew who to ask for a tampon.  But now?  That monthly reminder that I'm not pregnant?  I love it. As a single adult, it's guaranteed to be at least one thing that puts a smile on my face once every four weeks.  

"Good job, Caitlin!" My period says.  "You may not be as adult as you should be by now, but at least it's just you you have to worry about."

(Stay tuned for the next installment, ten years from now, where I discuss how terrifying parenthood is.)

(Also, this is not an indictment of anyone my age with children - you are just much more mature than I am.)

Girl Travels Alone Part 6: Don't Stop Belizean

      I've been in Los Angeles for over 24 hours now.  It should be almost 48, but things transpired differently than planned.

      On what was supposed to be my last night, Monday night, I didn't get to a restaurant for dinner until just before 9.  The place I wanted to eat was closing, so I went next door to a Chinese restaurant.  I had what might have been the most disappointing fried rice I've ever eaten.  The bread pudding was okay.  I really like bread pudding.
      A boy maybe a few years younger than me sat at the bar a few stools down.  He kept trying to strike up conversation, but I was tired and not super interested.  The snorkeling experience had taken it out of me, and being friendly to strangers could be a lot of work.
      "Long day?" he asked.
      "Yeah," I said.
      "Yeah, I noticed you were eating alone."
      "I'm traveling alone."
      There was a little more conversation, about as boring as everything I transcribed.  Another American entered the restaurant.  Loud.  He seemed to be a regular.  He was a cook, working at some other restaurant nearby.  He ordered a shot of whiskey I seriously doubt he needed (like, I hope he walked over to pick up his food, because the man seriously shouldn't have been driving) and started shooting the shit with the others.
      I asked for the bill and looked through my purse for my wallet but couldn't find it.  That's when I remembered I had ordered a drink at the bar at my hotel and had taken only my wallet to the hotel bar and left the rest of my purse at home.  When I got back to my room I must not have put the wallet back in my purse.  This is a smart move, taking your wallet out of your purse for small things like that, and I was mentally punching myself in the face about it.
      "I'm so sorry," I told the bartender, Amy, a demure girl from southwestern China who had been in Belize for about 9 years now.  "I left my wallet in my room.  Here, I'll leave my passport so you know I'm coming back."
      "Don't worry about it," the American slurred.  "It's Belize!  Why are you so anxious?  What are you so stressed about?  It's Belize!"
      "Okay… okay, I'll come right back, I'm just going to grab my wallet from my room-"
      "Where are you staying?" the American asked me.
      "Laru Beya."
      "Oh, that… all the way over… that's far, man, just come back tomorrow!"
      "Really?"
      "Yeah, Amy will be okay with that, won't you Amy?"
      "That's fine," Amy agreed.  "Just bring it tomorrow."
      "Oh.  Um.  Okay.  Thank you."
      "Where are you from?" the American asked.
      "Los Angeles."
      "Really?  You sound Australian."
      I should mention that I've been talking how I normally talk.  I mentally high-fived myself for sounding Australian.  I've gotten British and German and suburbs of New York (I've gotten this one a bunch of times, and I sort of hate it because, like, why couldn't I just be from legit New York?), but this was a first.
      "No.  Where are you from?"
      "Boston, but I haven't been there in 25 years!"  he cackled.  What a funny statement!
      "Oh, cool, I went to school there."
      "I've worked all over the world.  I've been to 57 countries and I've worked in 8.  Belize is the only one I've ever been back to.  I love it here."
      "Where have you worked?" the boy I was sort of talking to earlier asked.
      "Malawi, Belize, Japan, Boston, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Hawaii-"
      I started to mention that the last four places were all in the same country but I could tell nobody cared so I just let it go.
      "Malawi, man, I hated working there.  So much poverty, man.  When I was working there, I was making $1000 US per week.  They were charging $1200 US a night at the hotel.  The other workers, they were making 65 cents a day.  $1200 a night per room they were making, and they were paying their workers 65 cents a day.  Couldn't take it."
      I counted my blessings real quick.
      "A round of shots for the boys!" the American yelled.  "A round of shots for the boys!  Whiskey!  Let's get some whiskey shots for the boys, Amy!"
      There were four customers here, including me.  I was the only female customer.  I was trying to figure out if he meant boys figuratively (which included me) or literally (which did not).  He turned to me.
      "Where are you from?" he asked me.
      "Los Angeles."
      "Really?  You don't seem like you're from there.  You seem like you're from, um… like you're from… hmm…"
      "Australia?"
      "Yeah!  Australia!  You got that kind of vibe."
      Amy brought shots for the boys in the literal sense, and I took that as my cue to leave.  The American offered to pay my tab, and I stupidly said no.  I wish I had said yes.  I wish he had paid for it.  Why did I not take him up on that offer?  Or maybe he was too drunk, and he would have forgotten.  I declined his offer and came back the next morning to pay my tab.

      The next morning I slept in.  I ate breakfast.  I checked out.  I paid Amy back.  I got lunch at the Maya Beach Resort.  I ran into Connecticut from Brenda's Restaurant.  We talked about how fun that afternoon was, and how good that Seahawks-Packers game was.  I began the drive back to the airport so I could leave.
      The drive started out uneventful.  I had learned how to drive over the speed bumps.  I checked the map and saw the fastest way to Belize was Manatee Highway.  I followed the map best I could and took a right on Manatee Highway.

      Manatee Highway was a little rougher than the other highways.  I thought it would clear up, because the map gave no indication it was a lesser highway.  I only realized my mistake when my car broke down, and I was literally in the middle of nowhere.
      I took the key out.  I put the key back in.  I turned the key.  I took the key out again.  I put the key back in again.  I turned the key again.  Nothing.
      "No.  No.  No.  This isn't happening.  How is this happening?"
      I got out of the car.  I opened the hood and checked under the hood like I knew what I was doing, but I didn't know what I was doing, or what to look for, so I closed the hood again.  I got back in the car.  Maybe it had overheated?  I put the key in the ignition.  I turned the key.  Nothing.
      "How is this happening right now?  How is this real?"
      It didn't seem real.  It was ridiculous that my car would break down in the middle of nowhere in Belize.  That is not my life right now.  I am not that person right now.  I tried laughing because this was so stupid, but it felt hollow.  I was going to miss my flight.  I didn't even pretend I wasn't going to.  There was no denying that.  There was no false hope that I might make my flight.
      I figured the only thing to do was to keep going towards the airport.  I grabbed my suitcase and started walking north.  Every few minutes I would stop and look both ways.  Nothing.  No cars.  Literally nobody.
      "How is nobody here right now?" I wailed loudly.  I kept walking.  I complained.  "How is this my life?  How am I here?  How is nobody else here?  Where am I right now?  How am I literally in the middle of now-"
      Was that a growl?  Did I hear a growl?  I was worried about snakes, which is why I was walking in the middle of the road, but I didn't think about other animals.  There wasn't enough foliage to remain all that hidden.  Was that a bear?  No, shut up, there are no bears in Central America.  Was that a bear?  Are there bears in Central America?  No.  No.  What animal growls in Central America?
      Jaguars.
      There are no jaguars this far east, are there?  In Guatemala, yes.  In the Cayo District, yes.  Wait, was there a resort called Jaguar Reef in Placencia?  I couldn't remember.  Maybe that was in the Cayo.  That was west.  Or maybe it was Placencia, and it was just, like, a cute name that didn't mean anything.  Oh my god.  This couldn't be real life.  If I came across a jaguar right now I have literally nothing I can use to fight it off.  At least with a person I can barter, I can use words, I can pretend there's something I can do to convince them not to kill me.  This is not true with a jaguar.  I am alone, I am weak, and I've gained like fifteen pounds in the past year.  There is only one way an encounter with a jaguar could go.
      I would stop.  I would look around.  How am I so alone right now?  How has nobody come?  I would check the time.  Twenty minutes.  Nobody.  Thirty minutes.  Nobody.  I would keep walking.  I didn't see my car after a while anymore.  How could there be nobody here?  How-
      I heard a motor.  Finally.  Thank God.  I saw a tent.  I saw multiple tents.  I saw a makeshift covering.  I saw a sign on the side of the road.
      BRITISH ARMY.  DO NOT ENTER.  TRAINING FACILITY.  WEAPONS.
      Well, maybe they would accidentally shoot me.  Fine.  There were finally people here.
      I walked onto the property.  Must have been a sight - a girl in a floral H&M skirt, covered in mosquito bites and dust, with a tank top and a bandana and cheap purple sunglasses and a purse and a large suitcase trailing behind her.  Meanwhile, these gentlemen were all in training for Her Majesty's military service.
      They immediately offered me water.  They asked if I was hungry.  Do I need anything?  How long have I been walking?  And in this heat!  Do I need a phone?  Do I have someone to call?
      I called the car rental agency.  They didn't seem happy about having to come down, but they said they'd see me soon.  The military guys went off to do jungle drills, but they offered to share dinner with me.

      Next step was to see when my next flight would be.  I texted four different people.  My cousin John came back with nothing.  My friend Alex tried a few more ideas but also came up blank.  Turns out, Belize City airport closes at 6 PM.  My brother Eamon also had nothing.
      "I think I'm screwed," I texted him.
      "Yeah, probably."
      "Well, I guess this is that mid-twenties rite of passage where you get stuck in the middle of nowhere in Central America and miss your flight home."
      "I mean, there was really no way you could have avoided this?  You ran out of gas on the way to the airport just last week."
      Okay, yes, I did, that is true, but totally unrelated, thanks.

      Finally, the military guys came back.  They offered me more water.  They offered me more snacks. One of them, who somehow miraculously just showed up, was a mechanic.  They said they could drive to my car and maybe fix it.  We drove a ways and finally found my car.
      "This is more than a mile and a half," the mechanic said.  I had guessed a mile and a half based on the fact that I had walked an hour in flip flops on a dirt road with a suitcase and I kept stopping every four minutes with the hope that somebody would materialize.
      "Really?  How far did I walk?"
      "I don't know, two and a half or three miles."
      A weird sense of pride came over me.  One and a half miles is not that crazy of a story.  Three miles makes a much better story, and I wasn't even the one who had come up with the number.
      The mechanic fixed my car, and I drove back to base.  It was dinner time.  I texted my coworker and told him I missed my flight.  He was not sympathetic, and told me I was needed at work the next day.  I took a breath and tried to figure out how I was going to get home before 8 PM.  My friend Sara had looked up flights for the next day for me, and the earliest one she could find left Belize City at noon.
      The rental car guys came.  They didn't seem pleased that my car was working again, because it meant they had driven all that way for nothing.  They asked if I wanted to drive back with them.  I said yes.  They asked if I wanted somebody else to drive the car.  I said yes again and climbed in.

      The road was bumpy until we got to George Price Highway, where it cleared up.  As we drove on the rocky road, the guy driving my car said to me, "bumpy road here."
      I started crying.  I don't know how I did it, but I had royally screwed up.  There had to have been a way I didn't end up in this situation.  Everything I did, I did impulsively.  I was twenty-five and still unable to be a normal adult.  For every one thing I managed to do right in my life, I did twenty-eight things wrong.  And now I'm sitting in the passenger seat as this big Belizean man silently drives my rental car to an airport hotel and I'm trying to be quiet as I sob.  I wanted so badly to be back in my own bed tonight.  I am bad at everything.  I spent the night trying to figure out if I could get to Cancun for a 6 AM flight to LA so I could arrive there by 1:30 PM, but with no luck.  I was stuck.

      I am a terrible traveler.  I never remember bug spray.  I forgot to bring enough underwear.  I didn't bring my contact case for my contacts.  I don't have a medium-sized bag that's somewhere between my suitcase and my little purse, like I totally should.  I never have cash on me.

      But I will say I'm fun.  I have experiences that most others haven't had, because they travel much smarter than I travel (although the contact case thing was stupid; I really do regret not bringing my contact case with me).  They spend less money by not having to buy another plane ticket home, and they don't break down in the middle of nowhere and rely on the kindness of strangers and lack of wildlife to keep them safe.  But they also… okay, there's something good in here that I do, somewhere, right?  Where fun is something more than a cute nickname for irresponsible?
      I don't know.  I'm tired.  I'm home.  I still need to do laundry.  I had a great week, and I would 100% recommend Belize to anyone.  What a beautiful country, a fascinating history, a lovely culture, and an amazing week.  Just stay away from Manatee Highway.

Girl Travels Alone Part 5: I Belize I'd Like Another Drink

      I had a slow morning yesterday.  Around 12:30, I finally left the hotel.  The man I met the day before who I incorrectly called James but whose name is actually Michael John (where did James come from? Anyway the old stoner sailer I met yesterday was Michael John) asked me to pick him up from his boat so he could get a ride to town as well.
      I signed up for a snorkel excursion, which I went on today.  Michael suggested we take a walk along the boardwalk.  He says it's the longest boardwalk in the world.  As I left the snorkel tour place, a woman outside her stand yelled out to me.  The restaurant was Brenda's Restaurant, and she was Brenda.
      "Hello lady, you want some jerk chicken?  Some rice and beans?  You've been waiting for chicken?  Because it's been waiting for you!"
      You know, once I thought about it, I was hungry.  I told Michael I ordered chicken, rice, beans, coleslaw, and a rum punch from Brenda.  He said it sounded like a swell idea and got his own meal and drink.
      So the jerk chicken was excellent.  Brenda also brought out the best macaroon I've ever had and also a really solid bread pudding.

 Chicken, rice, pineapple, coleslaw.

Macaroon?  More like GREAT macaroon. 

Bread pudding.  Most underrated dessert out there. 

Brenda's restaurant.  Where the magic happens. 

 View from Brenda's restaurant.  Where the magic happens.

      Another group was finishing up their meal.  A man from Oregon talking about how Yelp is a scam, and his Thai wife whose haircut made her look like she just walked off the set of Brink, the sensational 90s Disney Channel Original Movie.  They sat across from Connecticut, a man who said his name about three times over the course of the afternoon and I still don't remember it.  Oregon and Brink left, and Connecticut kept eating.
      Michael was telling me about some of the people he met.  He credits himself with Bill Clinton easing up on civil forfeiture in the 90s (don't we still have a ways to go on that one though?).
      "I met Gorbachev once.  I saw Kissinger at a distance at an airport."
      "Kissinger should be in jail, man," Connecticut said, introducing himself into our conversation.  Connecticut could use a close shave and a cleaner pair of cargo shorts.
      Want to know what a conversation with two nomadic men north of 60 about politics sounds like?  Whatever you're guessing is probably accurate.
      Two women came by and sat down as well.  They were from Alaska.  Dory has been living in Belize for over 2 years now, and Sam is visiting her friend for a couple weeks.  Dory hasn't ever had a proper career, just going from one job to the next, and now her son is out of the house, and she just upped and left so she could figure out who she was by herself, not who she was in relation to someone else.
      Another middle-aged couple sat down as well.  They were from Idaho.  I don't remember their names, so I will refer to them as Mr. and Mrs. Idaho.  They came down with their adult daughter and her spouse.  Mr. and Mrs. Idaho run a summer camp in Sun Valley during the summer.
      When I was at the cave tubing meeting ground, there was a gift shop with a bunch of tan hats that said BELIZE on them.  They're so dorky.  I always wonder what kind of person actually pays money for that.  It is the quintessential dad hat, but also why do dad hats have to be so unflattering and weirdly colored?  Anyway, my point is Mr. Idaho was wearing a dad hat and a Hawaiian shirt, and when we were talking about Richard Sherman (there was a game on last night), he made it clear he loved that guy's "DON'T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT ME" speech.  Mr. and Mrs. Idaho were tight.
      As the youngest person there by about 30 years, some of the older people were curious about my being in Belize by myself.  Sam from Alaska has a son my age and a daughter 3 years older, so she immediately put herself in my mother's shoes.
      "What did your mother say when you told her you were coming down here?"
      "Well, when I first told her, it was a few months ago, and I said I wasn't going to not do something because nobody would do it with me, and she said that was great.  And then as we got closer to me leaving, she would ask, 'so who are you going with again?  Where are you going?'"
      "You make sure you email her every night."
      Sam was pretty cute too.  She gave me a pair of earrings with flip flops because she decided it wasn't her style after all.

Me and my new best friend Sam.

      Dory and Michael talked business.  Dory had a place up in Corazol, in Northern Belize, that she was trying to sell.  Good place to dock his boat.  They started talking about novels Michael had written.  One of them was on Amazon.  Science fiction - Rings of Time.  Dory said she wanted to write a book.
      "I want to write fiction," Dory said.  She was slurring her words.  "Can I write fiction?  I don't want to write about my life.  It'd be too sad."
      Mr. and Mrs. Idaho left before the drinking got out of hand, and also to watch the Seahawks-Packers game.  I was surrounded by Seahawks fans.  The couple from Idaho.  The two women from Alaska.  We were 50 yards from a bar showing the game, though, and everyone in there (all three patrons) were Packers fans.

End of first half, when the Packers had it locked up.

      Great game.  Okay I'm not going to talk about football anymore.  It was cool watching it in Placencia though, on a nice TV at a bar on the water.

      Around 6 Michael and I headed back.  I had an early night.  I am loving these early nights.  I never fall asleep before midnight at home.  Going to bed early is so great.

      The next morning I headed into town for the full day of snorkeling.  I wore my super cool but super light pants and a tank top.  I didn't bring a towel because I figured the sun would dry me off and also because I didn't think of it.

      I got to the tour a little early.  The man working there is also a musician who has traveled all over Europe and the US touring.  He moved back to Placencia three years ago.

      "We might not get to do the snorkeling tour today," he said.  "It's too choppy."

      There was no wind, so I didn't understand what he was talking about.

      "When are you leaving?" he asked.

      "Tomorrow."

      "So this is your only day."  The man thought about it.  "We'll go out today."

      I didn't think anything of the almost-canceled tour.  I went to get a coffee.  It was a nice walk - Placencia is a nice town.  I haven't mentioned this yet, but something I noticed about Placencia is how nice the cars are.  They're not luxury, but they're Toyota Tundras in Placencia versus whatever make I've never heard of in San Ignacio.  They're within two years old in Placencia versus older than I am in San Ignacio.  It's all the expats and tourists.

      Anyway, the walk was nice, and the coffee is maybe the best coffee I've ever had.

Placencia.

The name of the coffee shop is a play on words. 

His name is Java. 

Above Grounds Coffee Shop.

      When I came back to the snorkel place, Chandy and Frank had also arrived.  They were a couple from Seattle who had a son who was my age.  They are grandparents.  Chandy had back surgery in October.  Swimming in salt water made her feel better.

      We got on the boat where our tour guide, Tiger, got behind the wheel to take us.

      "We are going to Silk Caye.  It's 22 miles off shore.  It will take us an hour.  After we snorkel for a bit, we will eat, and then we will see the turtles."

      22 miles?  Okay.  I guess it's worth it to go to the second biggest barrier reef in the world.  The first biggest is in Australia.  That one is called the Great Barrier Reef and it's on wikipedia.

      We very quickly understood why musician man owner was hesitant to send us out today.  There were some seriously choppy waters.  It was fun at first, but it didn't let up.  We were soaked within fifteen minutes.  Chandy had not been informed about how choppy it was, and she had mentioned her own condition, so she was understandably upset. I began worrying about my no-towel situation.

      "Are you from Seattle proper, or just outside?" I asked.  Chandy and Frank had an accent that wasn't particularly urban.

      "We live in a boat just outside the downtown area."

      "Oh that's nice!  I have family in Graham."

      "No kidding!  I'm an Arlington girl.  We just moved to Seattle a few years ago."

      CALLED IT.  Farmland.  Chandy and Frank are great.  Chandy complimented my pants, because she is a woman with excellent taste.

      After an hour of getting soaked and almost losing my contact, we made it to Silk Caye.  It is an island that is literally the size of my apartment.  It has a bathroom and a barbecue on it.  It is a national park.

Come vacation in sunny Silk Caye. 

Look at that beautiful bathroom.

I am already cold.

      We snorkeled around the Caye.  It was okay, but my goggles kept fogging up.  Also, bobbing on the surface of a windy sea is, well, not relaxing.  And the water wasn't freezing, but I wouldn't use the word "warm."  I was already looking forward to the hot shower I was going to take when I got back to the hotel.

      The wind had only gotten stronger, and I was only in a wet bathing suit.  Luckily there was another tour there, and Tiger's second cousin was leading that one.  Tiger scored a towel for me, so I was a little less cold, but still very cold.  It might have been the coldest I've ever been.  I talked to a woman from Michigan on that Silk Caye, and she was also freezing, so I am validated.

Cold. 

Clothes drying. Chandy likes these pants, and it's easy to see why.

      Tiger barbecued up a mean potato dish with cheese whiz (you know, I was a cheese whiz hater for a long time, but I've come to terms with how much I enjoy cheese whiz and I think I'm a happier person for it) and a yellow jack fish.

Tiger cooking up some fish and potatoes.  Sheet metal is protecting our food from the wind. 

      Tasty.  But I was not interested in going back in the water at that point for sea turtles.  I was too cold.  I could feel that hot water from the shower I was fantasizing about on my skin.  I was only three hours away from paradise.
      We motored to the second location, which was about 200 yards away.  The sea turtle apparently hung out by a fishing boat.  These guys had a clothing line set up as well.  I will never see so many clothing lines again as I have seen on this trip.

Fishing boat.

     We saw a turtle in the distance and I decided to suck it up and go back in.  I was also told to stay away from the turtles.  

      I took a deep breath and jumped in.  What a difference a couple hundred yards makes!  The sea floor was covered in grass.  My goggles weren't fogging up.  We swam closer to the fishing boat and suddenly it was a wealth of animals I've never seen in the wild up close.  An enormous turtle going to town on some grass.  Sharks within a couple feet of where I was floating.  Manta rays.  Schools of fish.  And this was all within water about seven feet deep, so when sharks or manta rays swam directly below me they were really, really close to me.  But it's super chill I totally didn't freak out because I know they can smell fea- that turtle is not eating grass, it is eating a crab that is trying to crawl out of its mouth right now, and I suddenly understand why I'm being told to stay away from the turtle.

      So that last snorkel bit was really amazing.  Tiger took us back to shore.  I immediately went back to my hotel and took my hot shower.  I've never been this cold in my life, but I've also never had a hot shower feel that perfect.

      It's been a crazy trip.  I'm going to go eat dinner.