I proclaimed Saturday as Loser Day.
It needs a little explaining. My first job out of college, I wrote sports in a town of about 10,000 residents. It was a grind of a job. I would start Monday at around 5 a.m. in the darkroom, souping film and making prints. My apartment was upstairs from the office, and I’d head up after that to get ready for what was always a brutally long day. I had to write all the sports, handle police and sheriff’s reports and cover a government meeting or two. I’d commute up the stairs to my apartment and sleep a few hours and do it all again on Tuesday. On Wednesday morning, I got a ride to the printing plant a half hour away, where our layout pages were put on film before printing plates were developed. For hours, I grabbed papers off the press, stuffed them with inserts and put them in mail bags. The bonus was we generally arrived back at home base by 3 p.m. I would drag my tired body up the steps after struggling to stay awake on the ride home. I then took a multi-hour nap.
Part of the process was popping a frozen pizza in when I regained consciousness. So, what does a 23-year-old kid who knows nobody in town do on a night off? I developed what I referred to as Loser Night. At that age, I felt it was socially unacceptable to just hit one of the 15 taverns within two blocks of me alone. At some point, I got over that phobia, but at the onset, I considered that to be Major Loser Night. I was looking for just regular loser night.
Instead, my version of Loser Night involved going to a movie by myself. I did it many weeks. I’d get my popcorn and pick a row. Wednesdays weren’t big nights at the theater. Sometimes, the movie would be playing just for me. If there were other people there, they’d usually keep their distance from the guy at the movie by himself. One time, it was just me and another gentleman also celebrating his independence, or similar lack of friends. I posted up first in the middle of the theater. He, for some reason, sat by himself in the front row, probably to get as far away from me as possible.
I loved Loser Night. But I also realized that I had to reach out and get involved in the community. My string of Loser Nights ended when I joined the Jaycees, which was the best decision I ever made. I met my wife there, and thankfully she hadn’t gotten wind that I was the guy who went to the movie by myself.
This last weekend, my bride was out of town. I drove an hour to watch my 4-year-old granddaughter’s hockey scrimmage. The drive back brought me within a mile of a movie theater. I checked the schedule. There was a show at 12:10 p.m. I would have made it within about five minutes. My frugal side took control, and I went home where the popcorn’s cheaper and the movies are waiting for me. I celebrated Loser Day right in the comfort of home.