Things I didn’t expect to miss while isolated

Last night I overcooked the popcorn just enough that my apartment smelled almost like a multiplex movie theater carpet. There’s a specific waft that’s a signature of places like the Metreon or Kabuki with notes of rubber mixed with burnt kernels plus gutter water and the cosmetics department at Walgreens. It’s not a smell I’d seek out, but it’s evocative. So much so that it brought me to left side aisle, fourth row, second section, where I sit when going to a bigbox theater.

As we enter our ninth week of sheltering and social isolation, my cabin fever has now reached the point where I’m longing for the smell of multiplex carpet. Ew.

The first few weeks of sheltering were about processing big changes as venues closed and events were postponed, canceled and adapted online. Now that I’ve adjusted to those changes, I’m missing things I never imagined from life preCOVID. Some of those are things I normally don’t care for, and some are things that are just weird in how specific they are. To be wistful for the historically significant smell of the Castro Theatre is one thing; to miss the smell of the place you saw the third Jason Bourne sequel isn’t really the same.

I know some of the things I suddenly and unexpectedly am nostalgic for might not return for a while. I also know that while we wait, many of us are feeling anxious as we look ahead to what the future of “going out” might look like. Going back into theaters, having parties, drinking at bars and other social activities will be different, with more intentional spacing, fewer people and other safety regulations to consider. Here are a few unusual aspects of going out I’ve been missing.

Crowds:

Now that they are rightly taboo all I can think about is what it feels like to be at a big event with thousands of people. Yes, crowds can be pushy, smelly, rowdy and awful, but they can also feel energizing at the right event. I’d bear all the negatives for three good minutes of people cheering together.

Waiting in line:

As an impatient person, lines and long waits are my least favorite part of any experience. But now I’m remembering all the people you could meet or run into in line at a venue or the bar or coat check. Lines were also great for two of my favorite things: eavesdropping and people watching. It will be harder to listen in while social distancing.

People who talk during performances:

These people are the worst — “What else have we seen him in?” “Why’d she do that?” “Don’t go in there!” But about once every three years someone says something truly funny in a stinker of a show, like the audience member who blurted “Call the SPCA!” when I saw the movie version of “Cats.”

Opening acts:

I don’t have a problem with opening acts, I’ve just rarely bought a ticket because of one. Warmups, house bands and openers, I should have appreciated you more and will do better in the future.

Moshing:

Admittedly, it’s been a minute since I was at a concert where smashing into one another while dancing was appropriate, and it was never my scene. But doesn’t the idea of not fearing physical contact with strangers sound like an

exotic alternative world you want to visit? Ditto crowd surfing.

Art gallery opening Merlot:

I have a theory that one vineyard is providing the same fruityacidic red wine to art galleries across the world for their opening nights. It tastes both slightly tangy and syrupy at once, and the smell hits you hard. I rarely drank it, but I’d take a glass now.

Where’s my coat check ticket?:

I always manage to lose my coat check ticket the minute I’m at the front of the line. The search for it has become a kind of game I miss playing. I was such a wreck about it for a while that I took pictures of my ticket on my phone just in case. I’d usually find it the minute I got home.

The pontificator in the exit line:

It doesn’t matter where you are, there will always be a person expounding loudly about what you’ve just seen as you leave the venue. They will recite the artist’s biography, list every flaw they perceived and declare that tonight was totally inferior to the artist’s earlier work. That person was so irritating, but at least they were passionate. You don’t get that watching Netflix.