Day 1: Goddamn Street Racers

Today I watched THE FAST AND THE FURIOUS. It was, predictably, pretty awesome, and the relentless seriousness of the whole thing didn't bother me at all this time. And I still got aroused when Vin Diesel motorboats Michelle Rodriguez during that Rob Zombie montage, so this is starting off well. Substance (sort of) below:

I was a few weeks shy of 14 years old when THE FAST AND THE FURIOUS came out in 2001. To that point, I had spent my entire life in Huntsville, Alabama, a decent-sized city for the Deep South but a pretty boring place nonetheless. The idea that there was somewhere in the world in which a hundred cars would line a street to block it off just so other folks could race down it was beyond my imagination, and I knew immediately I wanted to get in on that shit.

I would later witness a few races outside the Target I worked at in high school, and when I moved to Los Angeles later on, I could watch street races outside my house after midnight most nights. It turns out this could be pretty annoying if I were, say, trying to sleep when they roared by. "Goddamn street racers," I'd mutter to myself, and then I'd smile ironically when I realized that my entire perception of reality, a perception that was ingrained in me by a Rob Cohen movie, had been turned on its head. Here's why.

Before Paul Walker and Vin Diesel and Ja Rule race at the beginning of THE FAST AND THE FURIOUS, Leon blocks and intersection with his car, and a pizza delivery guy immediately rolls up. "Goddamn street racers," he mutters to himself after Leon tells him to go away.

"So what you're trying to say, Phil, is that you're such a tool that you even quote shitty movies when you're alone in bed at night." Well, that wasn't really what I was trying to say, but, yes, that is absolutely true. What I'm actually trying to say is that I identify more closely with the fucking pizza guy than I do with any of the cool people in the movie.

I just looked in the mirror. To my chagrin I found I have no tattoos and am not wearing a muscle shirt or tank top or Chucks, and I don't look like Paul Walker or Vin Diesel or even Jesse the shrimpy car nerd. I am a huge disappointment to myself.

That concludes day 1.