Pictured above is the unnamed man in the Criterion Collection line (left) and our Editor-in-Chief (right).
It was a warm March day. I paid around $6.50 for a lukewarm vanilla latte I did not finish and $0 for parking, since I parked in a tow-away zone. I was making my way towards the Paramount theater when I saw a spectacle in pure white and harsh black…the Criterion Collection van had made its way to Austin.
I stood in line for around six hours, and in that time, I discovered more about myself than ever. I was surrounded by like-minded people to my left and right, in front of me, and behind me. In that line, I saw the diversity in the human spirit. Men were drinking matcha and wearing carabiners, women were holding hammers and lugging construction equipment, and non-binary individuals were advocating for unionization. But then I saw him, the tallest, weirdest-looking man in the Criterion Collection mobile van line.
As the line slowly trudged forward, I watched as he slowly reached into his bright, blue Mubi tote bag and filled out a lighter with an ironic slogan and a pack of silver Marlboros. Did it matter that you couldn’t smoke within 100 feet of the Paramount theater? No. What mattered was that it was love at first sight. The acrid smell of smoke wafted towards me. I was a Daffy Duck, and the half-lit cigarette was a pie on the windowsill of a Looney Tunes cartoon. What’s next will shock you. He completely ignored me. Did it matter that I did nothing to initiate contact? No. He should have been entranced by my aura alone. The line moved slightly forward. The object of my desire moves towards the van.
I see him reach into his tote bag and pull out his phone. I think he might be checking his Letterboxd. I can only imagine his top 4. Seven? Singing in the Rain? The Goodfellas? All possibilities that I’ll never know the true answer to. As he disappeared into the van to pack his selections and eventually post them on his March Instagram dump, I watched him take my heart with me. Destined never to meet, and worlds away. Oh, I’ll never forget you, the random boy I saw in the Criterion Collection van. Until we cross paths again, or next time I go to Tweedy’s on a Friday night.