Dear Alamo Drafthouse,
I’m writing you again this week for what could be described as an experiment. As always, I’m grateful for the replies and recognition, and I greatly appreciate the effort you all have made in accommodating and allowing my ramblings into a tiny portion of your work week. Writing these letters, I often feel like an eccentric old hermit living in a room full of clocks and talking to people that aren’t there. I imagine myself as some crazy mad scientist trying to build the impossible. Hopefully with your help maybe one day the picture in my head of an Alamo Drafthouse location in Atlanta will become a reality. Maybe one day we’ll be able to move Atlanta a little closer toward the future of cinema.
From what I’ve been told, the long road to the future means we have to acknowledge the Atlanta theatre market is stuck in the past. Often times when I visit places like The Plaza and the Starlight Drive-In, I feel like a time traveler. Truth be told, from the moment I arrived in Atlanta, I felt like double checking the time circuits on my DeLorean. The whole town is about 30 years behind, and going to the movies here, well, let’s just say I’ve felt like a man out of time after experiencing the Drafthouse. I mean seriously, the people here haven’t gotten the news that there could be something better out there. It’s bad, y’all. It’s definitely a trip though. Basically I’ve gone back to the movie theatres of my father and mother before they ever even met. The 3-D here is so bad they’re still using the red and blue 3-D glasses. I saw one dude just wearing one pair all the fucking time. Was he a hipster or just a moron? I don’t have the mental capacity left to wonder. I just want to get back to where things make sense. I want to get back to where things make sense. The future.
This all feels like a bad dream I’m just waking up from after being asleep for almost 9 hours. But it’s the reality I have to wake up to every day. It’s a heavy burden to bear. In fact gravity of my predicament hits me every time I’m forced to use Fandango or some other older booking technology. One time I had to go up to a ticketing machine that looked like an old arcade game and use my hands. It was terrible.
I’m tired of living my life in flux. Some days I feel like I’m master of my own density, while others I’m fading out and my hopes of bringing your organization to Atlanta is about as likely as being hit by a bolt of lightning. But I have to believe. I know you have the power to make this crazy idea of mine, this invention, work. I know we can get this off the ground and full throttle at 88 miles per hour. And when that happens, you’re going to see some serious shit.
Sincerely and Respectfully,
Loyal Alamo Drafthouse Patron