The year was 1978, and I was five years old.  On one fateful weekend of that summer, my life would be changed forever, and a love for film would be permanently etched into my being.  My sister announced on that Saturday morning that we’d be seeing a movie that day.  At that age, I’m sure I was watching Superfriends and peeing on myself or whatever five year olds do when she gave me the news, but I can remember being totally stoked.  You see, before that momentous day, I had never seen a movie in an actual theater.  To be honest, I hadn’t seen many movies at all.  I was five.  It was the seventies.  You didn’t just run down to the local video store and rent a VHS tape or DVD—they didn’t exist at the time.

And this wasn’t just any movie.  This wasn’t some benign Disney fare with animated know-it-all mice and bipolar ducks.  No, this was something much, much more.  This was Jaws 2.  I didn’t know it at the time, but this one of the most anticipated sequels in history at that point.  Just three years before, the original Jaws had taken an unsuspecting public by storm and had made millions of people afraid to go into the water—any water, even their own bathtubs.  With this said, I’m sure that most beach resort towns were not happily anticipating the sequel, for I’m sure that the influx of tourism dollars had been considerably affected by the first one.  I had seen the trailer for the film on TV, which was always followed by my mom’s insistence that my brother and sister were going to bathe regularly this time around whether they were scared or not.  And if they took me, I wasn’t going to be walking around all the time with stink of fear on me, either.

Promising my mom that we could handle the bathtub fear should it arise again, my sister loaded us up, and we took the hour drive to the nearest town with a theater.  I come from a long and distinguishing line of truth stretchers.  Now, I don’t want to call them liars.  That has such a negative connotation.   Truth stretching sounds much more passive and goodhearted.  Granted, often they stretched the truth to the point of breaking, but that’s not the subject at hand.  Anyway, my sister told me that Jaws 2 was movie for grownups, and the only way for a five year old to get in to see it was with a parent.  So my sister enlists me into a complicated and devious plan.  She would pose as my mother, and I was to pose as her son.  This was getting more exciting by the second.  Of course, I was in.  My sister was awesome.  My brother reminded me that if we got caught, the guy that sells the popcorn would take us all out back and shoot us at point blank range.  Whatever.  This movie was going to be seen, and if it involved a little stretched truth and espionage, so be it.

Now, at five, I had no idea about the MPAA ratings systems.  If I did, I would’ve known that Jaws 2’s PG rating only suggested parental guidance.  As everyone knows, my stupid butt could’ve walked right in there and watched Jaws eat people all by my very lonesome.  No parental impersonations or back lot popcorn guy executions were needed on the day’s agenda.

We got to the theater, and the line was huge.  I can only surmise that it was Jaws 2’s opening weekend.  The line was that long.  They had a massive cardboard display in the lobby of the killer shark’s head to satiate the impatience of the waiting moviegoers.  Inside the mouth was a mirror so that kids and inbred adults could be both frightened and amused at the sight of seeing themselves inside the shark’s mouth.  Oh yay!  OK, I admit, I did find it kind of cool.  I’ll even admit that might have possibly searched for this very same promotional standup on Ebay for quite some time now.  It would be nice to add to my…I mean a friend’s collection.

My sister bought the three of us popcorn and drinks.  Back in the day, you didn’t even have to rob an elderly couple for the money.  The stuff was actually affordable.  We got our treats and huddled up to check our provisions and finalize our seating plans.  Nobody wanted to set too close to the front.  Rumors abounded that people’s heads actually flopped off after staring up the screen for two hours.  That was out.  The back of the theater was no better.  You felt like you were out of the action from that distance, and—with everyone sitting in front of you—you would get interrupted every time someone got up to pee or poop or die or something.  And that would just ruin it.  But the fates smiled down upon us, and we settled down almost dead center of the auditorium.  You couldn’t have found better seats.

My sister got on the end of the row, and my brother quickly hogged the seat next to her.  I looked at the lonely seat on the other side of his, its fragile hold to the safety of my sister’s presence looking not very secure.  My wonderful sister could read my thoughts, however.  She picked me up and placed my snuggly in her lap.  At that point, Jaws could have ripped through the screen and started eating the girl scout group in the front row, and I wouldn’t have even flinched.  I was perfectly at ease, and all was well.  She had even gotten us one big Coke to share—one straw for her and a differently colored straw for me.  I should never have worried.  She was planning to hold me in her lap all along.  I turned and stuck out my tongue at my brother, who rolled his eyes in response.

And then projector started up….

Continued in Part 2