Letter 13 – The Atlantan Crusade

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.


Nick F.

Loyal Alamo Drafthouse Patron

Atlanta, GA


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.

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