Thursday, April 4, 2013
Do you remember the movie Fly Away Home?
Yeah, neither do I.
I had to Google "duck movie true story 90's" to remember the name/find the trailer.
But what do I remember?
Going to this movie with Cousin Julie.
Ahhh... Provo's Movies Eight. Back in the day when I thought dollar movies were awesome (I have since decided that most discount theaters smell like someone - or someones, like, 17 of them - have peed their pants in the seats), and when I thought a theater with eight screens was pretty much the coolest thing ever. (Who grew up in a town so small that it didn't have a stoplight, let alone a movie theater? This girl.)
Anyway, I went to see this movie with Julie. We were (shockingly enough) the only people in the theater. (Crazy, right? With an inspiring story about a girl whose dad fashioned a flying machine so she could show her duck "children" how to fly South, I can't believe that theater wasn't packed to the gills!)
We were a few minutes early. It was a dollar movie, so there weren't previews. The theater was blasting (and I do mean blasting) muzak to keep the masses (we two) entertained until the movie started.
Enter this song...
Now, you can't tell me that you don't remember this song. (The movie? Sure. You could totally forget about that. But this video, complete with the creepy ghost motorcycle riding boyfriend?! It's unforgettable.)
As weirdie as this song is, it practically BEGS to be sung (sang?) along with. (I double dog dare you to disagree with that statement.)
I was sitting next to Julie, singing along to my heart's content, when she said the infamous words...
"I dare you."
More specifically, "I dare you to get up and stand in the front of the theater and sing this song. Out loud."
And how did I respond, you ask?
"What will you give me?"
"... A nickle."
No sooner had I gone up to stand at the front of the theater than an entire family (of, like, ten... you know how those Utah Mormons are with their big families) walked into the theater. I looked at Julie, silently asking if the bet/dare was still on... and she held up a nickel between her thumb and forefinger.
Oh, yes. It was on.
So, I sang. And when I say "I sang", I mean... I sang. I sang my little heart out. At the top of my lungs.
Picture it. Me standing at the front of the theater, belting it out as loud and proud as I could, throwing my arms out (a la Celine) at the "Babay, babay, babay" ...
I'm telling you, I put on quite a show.
For a nickle.
For my cousin.
For a memory.
And I've never regretted it. Not once. ... Not even when the family of ten just sat there in silence, staring at me. (They didn't clap, but I like to think that my musical performance was the highlight of their Saturday afternoon. I mean, come on. My competition was a movie about a girl who mothered ducklings, and you know that I totally rocked the song.)
I love my life. I love my cousin. I love to sing. Out loud. ... Some things never change.