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Western Carolinian Volume 64 (65) Number 01 Fall Sports Preview
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August 18, 1999 FEATURES M The Season of the Witch or For the Love of Pants by Alex Esmon Features Editor All I wanted was a pair of pants. That's not too much to ask, is it? All that I went to Asheville for was to purchase a new pair of pants. I really didn't care where they came from or how much they cost; I just needed some britches. Denim, khaki, cardboard - it really didn't matter too much. As long as they met the size requirements, anything would work for me. I guess my error was wearing my new tee shirt that proudly emblazoned the four words "The Blair Witch Project." Harmless enough right? Think again compadre. Two weeks prior I had purchased that simple tee shirt because I thought it was a nice thing for a movie fan to have. I like the film very much; technically, it's a modern masterpiece. It was inexpensively made, the script is almost completely improvisation and the product is absolutely magnificent. I have heard every possible knock and slanderous remark that anyone has to make about the film and I don't believe any of them hold any water. "The Blair Witch Project" is just what the movie world needed. This summer has truly been the season of the Witch. That aside, I went to Asheville for some pants and to see this film again. I thought that it would be a silly yet completely harmless thing to wear my new shirt to see the film. I pictured myself saying something really witty to the ticket clerk along the lines of "Guess what movie I want to see," all the while pointing to my chest and giggling. I'm easily amused, O.K? But much like the three ill fated (and very much fictional) film students, I never made it to my ultimate destination. I never got to make my quip to the ticket peddler. I never even went into the theater. The closest I got was the parking lot of that great gray and pink stucco moviehouse. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't walk those 200 feet to the door and across the carpet to the entrance to the actual screen. I couldn't make myself get out of the car. Why couldn't I do it? Why couldn't I make the walk? That shirt was reason. That simple little shirt absolutely flipped my day upside down. What started as a simple pant expedition wound up a paranoid adventure into the realm of the Blair Witch. It started when I walked into the Mall. A man leaning against the outer wall looked up from his cigarette and saw my shirt. In a low monotone he inquired, "Have you seen it?" It took me awhile to realize that he wasn't some wacko talking to the trees, but that he was inquiring about the film I was advertising on my person. "Yes, I've seen it," I replied in a rather cautious manner. My mother told me never talk to strangers. The man stared at me expecting something, but what it was I have yet to figure out. After a moment he lowered his gaze and resumed sucking on his cancer stick. I ventured into the building. What followed is hard to completely recollect. Things are still sort of fuzzy. The first thing I remember, a small boy proclaimed loudly to his mother (who could have heard him in Waynesville),"MOMMY MOMMY, IT"S THE BLAIR WITCH!!!!" This made me jump a bit. It also made most of the mall patrons turn and stare. This small child watched me with cautious eyes as I made my way past his station outside the Baskin Robbins. As I turned the corner and made my way down the walk towards the good pant stores, I watched as more and more people would take a quick glance at my chest and then turn to their cohort and whisper in a husky tone just loud enough for me to hear," The Blair Witch thing, look, look!" And of course, they looked. I might as well have been wearing a big red A." In one store, after seeing my shirt two salespeople began discussing the merits of witchcraft and hauntings. I hung around long enough to hear the family ghost histories of each person. That took about five minutes. Things just kept getting worse. Just a few of the many questions I was bombarded with were: "What did you think of it?" "Did you like it?" "Do you believe in it" "Are you part of it?" And then of course there were the real sickos who wanted to have an in depth conversation at the cookie stand as to just what the film meant and just what really happened in the woods of the Black Hills. I had to remind most of these people that the film was in fact fiction and that meant that it wasn't real. They looked at me as I had just told them to go worship the spirit of the Icee machine. The stares and whispers rose in pitch and number as I wove my way down the walk, quickening my pace with each step. I ducked into some nondescript store and started looking at the various supposed styles of the season. As I made my way to the back to see the pants, A salesperson captured me and asked in a sweet voice,"Can I help you find something?" What a relief! Someone was asking me a real question and not some inquiry into the philosophy of the Blair Witch. The Movie Guy, Haunted by the Blair Witch (T-shirt). Well," I said, "I need a pair..." "Oh, I'm sorry but I see your shirt and, well, did you like the movie because I didn't and neither did my boyfriend who said it wasn't any good because there wasn't any blood or anything so what do you think?" I stared at her blankly and stated very quietly," I liked it very much." I left the store-without any pants (other than the ones that I brought in with me). Perhaps I haven't fully interpreted to you the truly frightening nature of my experience. People were whispering and pointing, but not in a friendly sort of manner. It was more of a threatening, menacing sort of act. Out of nowhere voices would blurt nondescript questions. Eyes would make contact with my shirt and then dart momentarily up to my face in a sort of muted horror. I did finally get some pants. I walked into a store, made no eye contact, grabbed a pair of the shelf, made a bee-line for the register, took out my wallet, and just as I was about to put down my money, the bubbly short lady at the register opened her mouth. "Did you really like it? I went with all my friends and some of us did and some of us didn't but most didn't and then we thought about seeing it again but then decided not to because it wasn't very scary, you know. But you liked so that's interesting." 1 took my bag and said,"I liked it very much." Then I left the store and ran out of the mall. As I sat in my car letting the cool refreshing air blow over my face I stared across the street to the theater. I sat there for a good ten minutes debating what to do. I put the car in gear and drove across the street to the cinema. I slowly rolled my car in front of the double glass doors and peered into the foyer of the theater. There must have been fifty people standing in the ticket line and another fifty waiting to get snacks and just milling around waiting for their various films to start. My eyes widened and a sickened grimace spread across my face. I put on my sunglasses and made my way for the interstate. The last thing I wanted was to stand in a line for ten minutes discussing which character was the true leader of the threesome. I'm really not an introvert (much). I don't exhibit any sociopathic tendencies and I don't talk to concrete blocks (often). I consider myself rather ordinary. I guess I just had a momentary breakdown. Maybe. I drove west towards my home as a golden ocean lay itself out across the sky showing me the way to my destination. Once upon a time, Johnny Rotten saide "This is what you want, but this is what you get." Words of wisdom, Lloyd, Words of wisdom. And all I wanted was a pair of pants. VALLEY FLORIST WELCOMES NEW AND RETURNING STUDENTS, FACULTY AND STAFF NOW TAKING ORDERS FOR PLANTS FOR YOUR DORM ROOM, APARTMENT OR OFFICE CUP, COMPLETE, AND PRESENT THE COUPON BELOW FOR A $5 DISCOUNT ON ANY PURCHASE OF $25 OR MORE Name Campus Address Tel. No. $5.00 DISCOUNT ON PURCHASE OF $25 OR MORE (Excludes wire orders) Expire) September 30, WW VAI.I.r Y KI.OK1ST 568 Ontcnnial Drive 293-5200 (BetKern The Mat* Baiter Bakeshnn and Hoh's BrfW Mart)
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Object’s are ‘parent’ level descriptions to ‘children’ items, (e.g. a book with pages).
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The Western Carolinian is Western Carolina University's student-run newspaper. The paper was published as the Cullowhee Yodel from 1924 to 1931 before changing its name to The Western Carolinian in 1933.
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