*Warning: strong language

Two weeks after I graduated from high school, my mother and I moved to Fort Worth, Texas to join my stepfather, who was already working there.  I spent that summer doing nothing but watching The Monkees reruns on TV, going to the record store to buy The Monkees records on the rare occasions when I had access to a car, occasionally going to the library to search for articles about The Monkees on microfiche, and generally daydreaming about Peter Tork. https://oldladywriting.com/2021/12/19/listen-to-the-band/ I was not made to get a job, probably because we did not have a spare vehicle for me to get to one, or maybe also because it was not necessarily our cultural expectation.  It was the last time in my life that I was home during the weekdays (not working) and/or out during the weekday not going to work.  I have been fantasizing lately about what that would feel like again…

I returned to Fort Worth the following summer a much different person.  I finished my first year of college, and it was time to get a job.  My stepfather was temporarily in New York, there was some car that was available for my use (though not the infamous turquoise Dodge Diplomat that ended up accompanying me back to Ann Arbor—it was serving its time in NYC as my stepfather’s unsuccessful yellow cab), and my mom and I decided that, since we both love Arby’s and frequented the one on Camp Bowie not far from our apartment, that would be the logical place to work.  The manager, Shirley, hired me on the spot, and thus I entered the work force. 

It was a typical first job for a teenager (and my only foray into fast food business).  Interestingly enough, that restaurant was staffed not with my peers, but with actual adults supporting families.  I was somewhat disappointed to not get nearly as many hours as I hoped, but in retrospect, I am not sure I could have handled making sandwiches and cleaning toilets 40 hours a week.  I definitely was not nearly as enthusiastic as the rest of the crew, and my status as a college kid rendered me suspect.  Until Monique showed up.

Monique was an emancipated minor, about a year younger than me, if memory serves.  She was streetwise and tough, a huge fan of Prince, and had the biggest heart.  During that summer, we bonded as the only teenagers at that Arby’s—and she was also the only person my age I ever knew in that entire town.  We hung out as young people did in those days, going to arcades, bowling, and most importantly, to the movies.  We would get our Arby’s discount and smuggle our beef ‘n cheddars and potato cakes in our purses. The two biggest movies for us that summer were “The Lost Boys” and “Adventures in Babysitting”.  We saw each of them more than once and quoted them endlessly and randomly. 

“The Lost Boys” recently opened on Broadway. Of course I saw it.  Of course I loved it. 

I generally do not approve of this trend of turning movies into musicals—I want to see something original—and end up preferring the theater version to the screen one, because there is nothing better that live theater.  But this one hits differently.  The stage version is fabulous, with great acting, gorgeous voices, fantastic special effects.  The characters are just as enticing as the original ones.  Ali Louis Bourzgui as David sports that familiar bleached blond pompadour/mullet, and is there anything cooler than a vampire who sings in a baritone?  They did use one of our favorite quotes: “My own brother, a goddamned, shit-sucking vampire!” (Little brother Sam, played by Corey Haim in the movie, of course, and by Benjamin Pajak on Broadway—this kid is a star and The Star of this show—but not “Great, The Bloodsucking Brady Bunch (Corey Feldman as Edgar Frog in the movie, and Pierce Wheeler on stage—he was the understudy the night I saw the show, and was wonderful).  It’s a tremendous spectacle, and I am rooting for it to win all of its 12 Tony nominations.

After coming home after a wonderful Broadway weekend, spouse and I immediately sat down to rewatch the movie.  It sure holds up.  The Coreys in their first joint venture; Kiefer Sutherland before he became Jack Bauer; and who remembers Alex Winter as a vampire before he joined Keanu Reeves on an excellent adventure?  And let us not forget that it, too, has a killer soundtrack (no pun intended).  Spouse was particularly disappointed that “Cry Little Sister” was not featured in the stage version.  Monique and I used to sing to that, her voice no better than mine (sorry, Monique).

In short, I loved the musical—go see it, on Broadway, or when it tours and comes to a theater near you, for I have no doubt that it has staying power.  And the reason it does is partially because the original material was so good—and partially because there are many of us who might not remember what we ate for breakfast but vividly recall the first time we saw “The Lost Boys” in a movie theater.  So after you see the musical, dig up the original movie in whatever medium you have available, and enjoy some heart-warming ‘80s vampire nostalgia.

A couple of years after that summer, Monique enlisted in the Army, and we lost touch.  Wherever she is, I hope all is well with her.  Meanwhile, “Adventures in Babysitting” is still waiting for its live theater version…