Under the big top

After some serious deliberation, I decided to make the switch from microwave popcorn to hot air-popped popcorn.

Is it as yummy as microwave popcorn? Honestly, no. But I thought it would be healthier and tasty in a plastic, Styrofoam, packing material kind of way.

There were plenty of cool-looking hot air-popcorn poppers to choose from on the internet, but I decided to pick one up while I was out running my other errands so we would have it for our movie night that weekend, or at the very least, I would be able to pop some packing materials for some gifts I had to mail out.

Unfortunately, some other people must have read the same articles I did because the first two stores I went to were completely sold out of hot air- popcorn poppers. The third store had a fancy version for several hundred dollars, which, I assumed, must have popped gold bullions along with the popcorn. The fourth store had a couple of poppers left in one brand. There was one problem: It was, without a doubt, most definitely, the ugliest hot air popcorn popper on the face of the planet. Maybe in the whole hot air popcorn-popping universe.

This particular machine was freakishly big, decorated with bright red and white striped plastic strips all around it, and made to look like a box of popcorn you’d get at a circus. I assumed the idea was to make you feel like you were actually at a circus. However, since there was no guy swallowing a flaming sword in my house, clowns getting out of cars in my garage, or people in tights swinging from my chandeliers, I just didn’t see the need to have a popcorn popper that was trying to recreate the circus experience.

I thought it would look great in a college dorm room or next to an Easy Bake Oven. But on my kitchen counter, next to my modern appliances, it just looked bizarre ... like I’d decided to change careers and go to Clown School. All I needed was a tent and some elephants in my living room to complete the look.

Still, there were no other options and I was out of time so I bought it. I figured we could all have a good laugh about it whenever we made popcorn, and I could hide it in the closet if someone came over so they didn’t think we had a secret desire to become the Amazing Flying Beckermans.

Of course, I was less concerned with what our company might think than what my husband would say. He is not a big fan of oversized, cheesy- looking circus- themed appliances. I was pretty sure he would veto the popcorn popper and insist that I bring it back to whichever clown sold it to me.

I managed to keep the popper hidden from him until the weekend and then when movie night rolled around, I announced that I had gotten a hot air popcorn popper and would make some for us.

I plunked the machine on the counter and fired it up. I waited for my husband to notice the circus elephant in the room, but he seemed oblivious. Finally, I brought the popcorn over to him. As he grabbed a couple of handfuls and chowed down, I said reluctantly, “You didn’t say anything about the popcorn popper. What do you think?”

He looked over at the flashy red and white striped appliance and shrugged.

“It’s OK,” he said. “But the popcorn tastes like Styrofoam.”