The Darth Maul

So.... Years ago, I lived with a friend named Matt. We shared a large two bedroom apartment for nearly two years. During the two year period, Matt never unpacked his belongings. He slept on my sofa in the living room while his bedroom looked like a self storage unit somewhere off the Interstate. Because our schedules were so different, the living situation actually worked out. Still, I needed an outlet for venting anytime I came home to find Matt on the sofa at 2PM. My outlet was a weekly newsletter emailed to family and friends, detailing my living situation, day-to-day adventures and stories of Matt.

Per request from a dear friend, here is a story from one installment of "The Matt Update".

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Monday, May 3, 1999

Actually this update begins a minute shy of Monday when the phone rang at exactly 1159PM. I checked the caller id---it is The Price, informing he is entering the city from his weekend excursion in Arlington & heading in the direction of our friendly neighborhood Toys-R-Us for the long awaited Star Wars toy kickoff. Oddly, I felt compelled to join him, mainly due to the fact that he had gone out of his way to pick up a delicious mess o' fish from my favorite roadside café inEastland, Texas, Ken's Fish and Chicken. No, that is not the reason: Let's face it – I too am a Star Wars geek who was eagerly counting down the days until the movie begins its box office dominance and any opportunity to observe a room full of Star Wars geeks is better than any reality show television network executives can ever dream up. Without haste, I hopped into my car.

Being lowly Lubbock, Texas, I predicted a maximum of maybe twenty-five people wandering the store. Many simply browsing and taking in the scenes. Driving onto Slide Road, I a, shocked to see the entire Toys-R-Us parking lot filled like the day after Thanksgiving. The parking is so overloaded in fact that I circled several times waiting for people to leave before an empty spot became available. While circling I saw the Lethal Weapon Grand Am entering the lot. The Price is in the building! I parked and, as a normal routine when doing anything with Matt, waited for him to exit his vehicle. Can anyone tell me what the hell he does in there? Combing his hair? Checking his nostrils? Brushing his teeth? It almost takes longer to wait for him to get out of the car than the time it takes to drive to the destination. Baffling. Finally, he emerged from the depths of the mighty GT, donning baggy jean shorts, goofy skateboarder shoes, socks pulled to his knees, and the patented tucked in Tommy shirt… oh, and the cellular phone dangling from his front pants pocket. My question: Were we at Toys-R-Us or Kid-n-Play's house party? Even Matt, a true student of bizarre behavior, is dumbfounded by the mass demonstration.

Upon, entering the store we immediately witnessed, literally, hundreds of people running throughout. Some are pushing baskets filled with Star Wars merchandise, while others are blindly scampering with their arms filled. Near the front of the newly revamped store (obviously remodeled simply for this occasion), there are even older men fighting through hot wheel cars in a kiddie pool. What was up with the hot wheel stuff, I do not know? Someone screamed out---"I need a Darth Maul? Anybody got a Darth Maul? Where are the Darth Mauls?" Apparently the Darth Maul was no longer available. The action figure was gone after only 15 minutes. Conformity is a bitch: Matt sprinted into the crowd amongst all the littered toys, searching for a Darth Maul figure. I stood motionless and wide-eyed.

People were everywhere! White, black, brown, tan, yellow (yes, someone dressed as C-3PO), old, young, fat, skinny, geeks, athletes, farmers, city slickers, female, male, one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish, me, and Matt. From afar, I stood back watching the affair with an employee. We both shook our heads and laughed. Geeks were every where, and admittedly, due to proximity, I was one of them. Matt immediately filled his arms with items---nothing of importance, mind you, essentially grabbing objects like a maniac. Minutes later, he fought his way through the inflatable Star Wars furniture where he bumped into a couple acquaintances, Michael and his fiancé. Michael and I were similar in regards to The Price: We realized Matt was an unusual case study and for the most part often sat back, enjoying the ride. He threw out a few jabs at Matt about being a spoiled brat and a lazy goof---albeit, all true---but let's face it he has no newsletter, nor sits awake in the middle of night wondering if the snoring in the other room, the living room, will ever stop, or if a certain roommate will ever unpack his belongings after 2 years and live like a normal human being, or if…I digress. Michael, himself, was embracing eight action figures and truly engrossed in the hype. More importantly he too sought the elusive Darth Maul action figure.

Suddenly, an announcement filled the air like trumpets might have blared Bible days: THERE ARE MORE IN THE BACK! Boom! Like a flash, everyone began making their way to section 8C. What had I gotten myself into? What was this? I spoke to myself while standing in aisle 3B. Fanatics whizzed past, bumping into me without uttering an excuse me. That, my dear friends, is when it happened. 'It' can only be explained as a tremor in the Force, as they say. Something I hadn't felt since the tender age of 8 or 9. In the recesses of my mind, I imagined myself wandering through the Midland Park Mall on a Saturday afternoon with my weekly allowance in hand, hoping to find Han Solo's Millennium Falcon. I had been there! It was all returning! Suddenly, my friends, the force was in me! YAAAAAA---OUTTA MY WAY, YOU BASTARDS! WATCH OUT, JEDI COMING THROUGH!!!! YAAAAAAAA!!!!! WHERE'S THAT DARTH MAUL?!?!? I pushed aside both dorks and geeks, not showing discrimination to neither. I knocked regular people out of my way, kicking glasses and pocket protectors aside as I traveled. From the storage area, employees frantically threw boxes into the aisles in hopes the crowd would stay at bay, not attacking. They had no chance to properly open or distribute the merchandise themselves for the masses were grabbing them and doing what they wanted! Boxes and boxes of Star Wars action figures were scattered everywhere. WHERE IS DARTH MAUL?!?!? OUTTA ME WAY!!!! I heard Matt's voice crying out in another aisle---"Where are the new Star Wars micro-machines?" Micro-machines? What the hell was he thinking? Nobody was punching their way through lines for damn micro-machines! His head obviously was not into the game, the lousy bastard. Why was he not searching for a Darth Maul? Instead, he was in the micro-machines section alone with absolutely zero interference as if enjoying a quiet day on the beach watching the waves. Complete serenity. What was the boy thinking? Who the hell wanted micro-machines? Even the littlest kids were dissin' the micro-machines for the action figures! I pushed him out of my mind. To hell with the weak & the ignorant, I thought. This is was and I am engaged in battle.

Forty-year old virgins, holding Spiderman issue #342 comics, and I shuffled through boxes of action figures. There were Obi-Wan, Anakin, Qui-Gon Jinn, Jar Jar, an Ewok, and then finally the mother load, the golden ticket, Darth Maul himself. Finally, in like the 17th box I went though, a Darth Maul. Then another it hit me; this 'it' being sanity and common sense. I had not planned to buy anything. I simply came to see the happenings; to see the dorks on parade; to see the reactions upon faces when the first box was opened; to see the smirks of the employees who had the misfortune of working that night's shift; and most importantly, to usher in the Star Wars season. Again, that feeling overcame my mind, body, and soul---The Force---and I grabbed another Darth Maul. AH-HA, YOU BASTARDS, I'VE GOT TWO NOW! "The Force is strong in that one", I overheard a voice exclaim, as I stormed down 8C with my prize possessions. Meanwhile Matt was still in the damn micro-machine section! What was he doing? Micro-machines? War takes its toll on people. Enraged I approached Matt to deliver a salty smack across the face, and then to slap those kiddie Micro-machines from his hand. Before reaching him, however, a 9 year old boy toppled Matt while putting away his sister's micro-machine. The fall jolted life back into him, and he dropped his booty and joined the battle for Darth Maul.

Worn and ragged, I retreated to the front of the store gasping for air. As I sat collecting my composure, I saw The Price, hair frazzled and red faced, willing his battered body and a shopping cart towards the back of the store. Damn, that basket can hold a lot of micro-machines, I thought. Ten minutes later he surfaced with his valuables: 18 action figures, books, posters, puzzles, electronic gadgets, and even micro-machines. Without question, he too had felt it---that almighty tremor called the Force.

Two hours after our arrival we both emerged from the melee of battered bodies and busted eyeglass wear, making our way to the checkout. Sadly, Michael and his fiancé had been lost in the crowd and left for dead. War is hell. My battle cost approximately twenty dollars---not to mention time and respect; while Matt shelled over a cool seventy bucks. (The total fee would have been a little more, but some kids stole several Micro-machines off the cart.) After paying, Matt and I say our goodbyes. He departed for parts unknown; and my bed was calling. On the other side, we would see each other…

The next day we talked about our adventure. Mine ended hours before Matt's: After Toys-R-Us, he continued to wield his credit card at both Wal-Mart, and then K-Mart, where he spent the remainder of his evening watching "Return of the Jedi" with the overstaffed night employees.

The Price's total damage on this first day of the Star Wars holiday season:

• 19 action figures
• 1 beach towel
• 2 books
• 3 posters
• 8 micro-machines
• 1 mug
• 1 toothbrush
• 1 sports bottle
• 3 shirts
• assorted pairs Darth Maul boxers
• 1 David Robinson action figure (?)
• 1 novelty R2-D2 soap on a rope
• a bottle of Yoda hand lotion
• 1 Stormtropper Pez dispenser
• and much, much more

When Matt left my room that morning, I felt a special bond with my old roommate. Visions of Star Wars action figures, pencil-packing geeks, and Chewbacca shampoo bottles danced in my head as I sat staring across the room at my new Darth Maul with Double-Bladed Lightsaber. Thoughts of Matt and me braving the aisles of Toys-R-Us made me chuckle aloud. Like a classic episode of "The Wonder Years," I could softly hear the sounds of Simon and Garfunkel bringing my adventure to a pleasant end, as my adult voice, like Kevin Arnold's, spoke poignantly, reflecting on the special moment in time I had shared with my very special Paul Phieffer-like roommate. Together we had experienced a once in a lifetime thrill---a moment the world had eagerly anticipated for over a decade, and like millions across the nation we had become, in some small way, a special part of our American culture's history. Stumbling out of bed, I collected my new toy and opened my bedroom door. Alas, a sight I've come to know all too well: Hibernating on my sofa in all its hideous glory. Matt was fast asleep and as usual fully clothed with one hand resting beneath his pillow, and the other in his pants. The vision, for most, a Hellish nightmare; for me, the perfect ending to the perfect day.

And a Hellish nightmare.