Dear Alamo Drafthouse,
Here I am yet again in your inbox, all the way from Atlanta, GA. I know that y’all get hundreds if not thousands of emails to rake through each day and I wanted say for the 13th (!) time how much I appreciate you skimming over these emails week after week. The amount of dedication you all have shown into responding to your customers is fantastic. As a way of saying thanks, please let me know what movie you want me to incorporate into next week’s letter (group consensus please) and I will happily weave it in. Thanks again. Now onto business as usual:
Dear Alamo Drafthouse:
It’s been a little over 3 months now since I’ve started this quest and I’m sad to say our situation has not improved. I still feel like a pilgrim in an unholy land. A land of $18 admission prices (matinee!) and “food” and drinks that makes you feel like your life is ending. Seriously the other day I saw Batman v Superman and decided against my better judgement to get some popcorn. Let’s just say I chose poorly. I’ll spare you the graphic details of me stumbling out of the bathroom hours later with a look of horror on my face, looking to my fiance and asking her “What’s… happening… to me?”
Listen, I know that a Drafthouse in Atlanta might seem like only one man’s holy grail, but I promise you this is not for my glory. This is for Atlanta. She deserves better. I know it will take years, and that even in those final few steps the ground can fall out from underneath your feet. But the Drafthouse isn’t a prize. It’s something I believe in, something I want to bring to the great city of Atlanta: Illumination.
Let me draw you a map. A map with no names. You’ve got a great metropolitan area with a giant highway network encircling the core of the city. Inside that circle there is a great rail line that runs north-south and east-west, making a giant X. That’s the spot. You know everything you need to know, except the name of the city: ATLANTA.
Is any of this getting through? Does anyone here understand a word I’m saying? What do I have to do? Crack you over the head with a fake 14th century Ming-dynasty vase? I’m not asking you to go over a cliff on this one. Until then, you can count on me continuing to write in every week. I’m like a bad penny. I always turn up.
Loyal Alamo Drafthouse Patron
P.S. Whew. I’m glad I got this done before 11’o clock. Although I’m not really sure what happens at 11’o clock.