Cleveland Rocks!

Over the past few years, as my son has become more and more of a diehard baseball fan, he's begun lobbying for trips to major league cities so we can see "real" baseball. (No offense, Rochester Red Wings, we still love you.) Last summer we trekked to Philadelphia and he experienced his first big league game, seeing the Cubs take on the Phillies. Previously a Yankees fan, he made room for another favorite team, with the Phillies later sending him into quite the playoff frenzy when they turned a wild-card spot into a World Series run.

Over the winter we began sizing up other reasonably nearby cities, looking for a good fit for another MLB encounter. The main criteria were distance and cost. We honed in on Pittsburgh and Cleveland, both about four hours away, eventually settling on Cleveland. We dug into hotels and local attractions, and booked a room at the Hyatt Regency at the Arcade downtown. That was February, and it all seemed so far away. In June I bought tickets for two games, Saturday night against the Phillies and Monday against the Royals. And a bonus game on Tuesday to see the nearby Class A Lake County Captains take on the Beloit Sky Carp.

When people would ask if we had vacation plans for the summer, I found myself almost making excuses for our destination, as if anticipating the questions before they were even asked. "We're going to Cleveland--to see some baseball games." Because Cleveland? For vacation? Huh.

Well, now that we've been there, I will make no excuses, no apologies, no explanations.

Cleveland Rocks!

It was awesome. It blew Philadelphia out of the water. I loved it, and I would go back in a heartbeat.

We drove down Friday. It's just about a four-hour trip, not including stops, almost all on I-90, which took us right into the city. We arrived around 3:30 and handed our car over to valet parking. The hotel would have been worth a sight-seeing stop on its own had we not been staying there. The Arcade is fascinating enough to be a popular wedding venue. In fact, there were two when we were there, on Friday and Saturday evenings. We could see them partying it up from outside our room on the fourth floor (and hear them, until about 11:00 both nights).

We took a walk that first night to familiarize ourselves with the neighborhood. All we could tell from Google Maps ahead of time was that Progressive Field was only a few blocks away. We had no idea whether that meant a leisurely walk (safe?) or a cab ride (sketchy?). It turned out to be the former, and we walked it a dozen times over our five-day stay. The first block passed through East 4th Street, most of which was pedestrian only and lined on both sides by restaurants (bars, really) teeming with folks. After the three of us had dinner Friday, my son and I decided to head back to the park to see what we could see without tickets. We found a spot beyond right field where through the bars in the fence you can see straight through to home plate. We watched three innings from there, and were tipped off by an usher that just on the other side of the fence was a marker recording the longest home run in stadium history, hit by Jim Thome. If someone had replicated that blast we might have been odds-on favorites for the ball.

We headed back to the hotel when it started getting dark and were back in our room long before the postgame fireworks show, which we could see reflected in the windows of the building behind our room.

We returned to the stadium Saturday. Twice. The first time we hit the team store, loading up on Guardians gear. The second time was the main event, which we took in from the Discount Drug Mart Club up on the 300 level. I didn't realize it at the time I bought the tickets, but they included dinner. It was a great first game at Progressive Field, aside from the outcome for Phillies fans, as the home side topped the visitors 1-0, with the only run courtesy of a popup that dropped between second baseman Bryson Stott, right fielder Nick Castellanos, and center fielder Brandon Marsh. We can argue all day about who should have taken charge, but there is no question that it should have been caught.

Sunday's original plan was to spend the afternoon at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, a mere 20-minute walk from our hotel the opposite direction of the ballpark. But a boy with a phone happened to notice there were still tickets available for the finale of the three-game set between his Phillies and the Guardians. I explained over and over that we had to consider Mom's feelings in all of this, and she was already being an awful good sport agreeing to attend three games during our five-day trip. But ... but ... but ...

We agreed to let Mom decide. And she was fine with another ballgame. So we secured $20 tickets up high in left field, so far under the scoreboard that it would serve as our umbrella when the rain came late in the proceedings. This was another tight affair, with the Phillies taking a 4-3 lead in the sixth and holding on ... until David Fry clanked one off the railing beneath us in the bottom of the ninth. The ball fell back onto the field, briefly confusing both sides until the umps ruled it had cleared the yellow line. And with that, we had extra innings. The Phillies looked to break the game wide open, plating four runs in the top of the 10th. On came Jeff Hoffman to finish the Guardians off. A walk, a single, and a walk later, he was gone, the lead down to 8-5, and looking mighty precarious at that. Yunior Marte managed to finish off the home team with no further damage, earning a gigantic sigh of relief. I later read a recap in Craig Calcaterra's Cup of Coffee newsletter describing how the Phils turned it into a "laugher" with their four runs. It was anything but. I was so sure they were going to blow it I was already mentally explaining to my son why we shouldn't let this ruin our trip. Instead we celebrated as the skies opened up, waiting out the rain underneath the massive scoreboard.

Monday morning, after a hearty breakfast at Betts (no affiliation to Mookie that I'm aware of), we returned to the Guardians team store, because we hadn't given the team quite enough of our money yet. On our way in, we noticed a sign about stadium tours. We secured tickets for the 11:30 tour and waited. This turned into one of the absolute highlights of the trip, as we got to sit up in the press box and down in the home dugout. Many great behind-the-scenes views, including seeing Terry Francona's scooter in the tunnel outside of the home clubhouse. (Didn't get to go into the clubhouse, unfortunately.)

Back at the hotel, I booked three admissions for the Rock Hall and we were off once more, down to the lake and the intriguing building that houses the music museum. Highlights: The hip-hop exhibit when we first entered, the history of rock that took us from the jazz/blues/gospel roots to the early days of rock, the Elvis, Beatles, and Rolling Stones exhibits, some of the other random displays featuring various pioneers from different cities. The cons: well, it's hard to be specific, but somehow I just thought there would be ... more. My wife kept wondering when we'd get to the Prince stuff or the Heart stuff. The answer was pretty much never. There were a few things, but nothing in depth. If there was anything on The Police beyond the plaque denoting when they were inducted I must have blinked and missed it. On the whole, it was mildly underwhelming. I still rate it as a must-see, if only because how often do you get the chance? But it ranked a distinct third on our Monday triple-bill, behind the ballpark tour and the Guardians-Royals game. Finally unconflicted of who to root for, we were let down when Cleveland lost to the lowly Royals 5-3. We had incredible seats, at least, sitting three rows behind the visiting dugout. Close enough to score a rally towel and a t-shirt when they were tossed into the crowd.

It wasn't just the score that felt like a letdown as we headed back to the hotel after the game. Three games in three nights (not including our knothole gang effort Friday) was more concentrated major league action than I'd ever enjoyed. Still, we were all a little sad to be saying good-bye to Progressive Field, even with the Lake County Captains booked for Tuesday. And primo seats, I should add, second row, behind home plate.

Still, it didn't feel right. So when we got back to the hotel, I was back on the MLB Ballpark app, and soon enough we had tickets in right field for Tuesday night. The Captains got bumped in favor of their big-league affiliate. The ability to walk to the park in 10 minutes versus having to get the car from the valet and drive to Lake County (approximately 25 minutes away) didn't hurt. But honestly, it really came down to reading the room. The boy and the wife both clearly wanted to stay in town. In the end, I went with the least stressful option. We got to see the Guardians roll to a 5-1 win, with rookie Bo Naylor taking veteran Zack Greinke deep twice. It was over almost too soon, the final pitch coming just 1:59 after the first. This time, when we made the familiar walk back to the Hyatt, we knew it was really over.

Baseball, baseball, baseball ... yeah, this has kind of turned into a game log. But there was so much more to Cleveland, even though it's hard to separate the city from the sports teams it loves and supports. The Guardians are essentially a .500 club at this point. Thanks to a weak AL Central, they're one hot streak away from contending. One senses that even if they don't catch that wave, the fans will come out and support them. Maybe it's not the sellout draw it was in the glory days of Jacobs Field, when they sold out as a rule. I mean, I was able to get relatively cheap tickets at the last minute twice. But still, there is a distinct vibe.

There's also a pride in the city. When we were in Philly last year, we searched high and low for souvenir t-shirts. In the end my wife ordered a hoodie online for my son--after we came home. Within a block of our hotel we found two stores that sold really nice Cleveland stuff. And we bought a ton of it. Shirts, hats, books, a magnet, a mug. The locals aren't shy about flexing for The Land, why shouldn't we jump in on that action?

A little background on me and Cleveland: This wasn't my first time in The Land. I was born in Painesville, not far to the east. We lived in Mentor until I was almost four. My dad used to teach at Cleveland State. He may or may not have cost himself tenure by protesting companies like Dow Chemical that polluted the nearby environs. I haven't really been back since. My impression of the city was a burning river and The Mistake By The Lake. Still, it had baseball and was close enough to give it a chance. I was honestly set on swinging by the old neighborhood to check out my childhood home. We never made it to Mentor. We were too busy downtown.

As for that burning river, it's now a thing of pride. We took a cruise up the Cuyahoga River and out onto Lake Erie on the Goodtime III on Tuesday. We passed by condos in the Flats that were so eye-catching my wife suggested we should retire there. We saw great blue herons and other birds. All along the river there are projects in various states of progress, transitioning what was once a national punchline into a local attraction.

Cleveland is a beautiful city. It was clean (unlike Philadelphia, which looked like it was in week three of a garbage strike when we were there last summer) and walkable. There is so much public art, from the FREE stamp to the chandelier in Playhouse Square. We went into a Heinen's grocery store that was repurposed from an old bank, featuring a rotunda with a stained-glass ceiling. We ate breakfast in a cool park next door to the downtown library, where we encountered squirrels that walk on all fours like bears. We went with mild expectations and were absolutely, 110% blown away.

Cleveland Rocks. Seriously.

Books need protecting from Moms for Liberty

When I wrote about book banning in Dispatches from a Tourist Trap, I was afraid that some parts went a little over the top. For those that didn't read it (which, based on sales figures would be most of you), Jason moves to a small town in Eastern Washington after his parents split up, and is pleasantly surprised to find a student-led literature club exists at the high school. But when some, let's call them less-progressive, students object to the book selections, things get heated. The titles grow increasingly controversial, from The Sun Also Rises to At Play in the Fields of the Lord to The Virgin Suicides. The school board votes to require all books chosen be preapproved by them, at which point Jason and friends take it underground. They eventually enter a protest float in the town's Christmas parade, which only inflames matters, literally, when someone sets it on fire.

It was meant to be funny, while also addressing an odious practice with a long history in our country. (While the U.S. is hardly alone in banning books, for a democracy we seem to take it to a whole 'nother level every so often.) Like I said, I was mildly concerned it was almost overdone. I mean, how likely would it be that Jason's band of happy readers would encounter such strong opposition?

I never thought to include any Nora Roberts books on their reading list, though. Maybe that would have made it more realistic. At least if I had set the story in Florida.

The ironically named Moms for Liberty group in Martin County wasn't content pulling Judy Blume and Jodi Picoult books off library shelves. They had to get rid of Roberts' books as well. Some of these recently banned titles make up "The Bride Quartet," a series of four books about friends who run a wedding-planning business. Here's the blurb from the first book, Vision in White:

Wedding photographer Mackensie "Mac" Elliot is most at home behind the camera, but her focus is shattered moments before an important wedding rehearsal when she bumps into the bride-to-be's brother...an encounter that has them both seeing stars.

A stable, safe English teacher, Carter Maguire is definitely not Mac's type. But a casual fling might be just what she needs to take her mind off bridezillas. Of course, casual flings can turn into something more when you least expect it. And Mac will have to turn to her three best friends—and business partners—to see her way to her own happy ending.

Oh my stars and garters, how salacious.

Roberts is, as she should be, pissed off. But in a sense, I celebrate the blatant overstep on the part of Moms for Liberty. Because if they weren't a laughingstock before, they are now. (Note: They were a laughingstock from the start.)

Not that book banning is a laughing matter, by any means. In Florida, where they seem to have nothing better to do, or elsewhere. And we can include my school district in that elsewhere, as there is a group of "concerned" parents trying to remove Juno Dawson's This Book Is Gay from the Hilton High School library. This is actually a major campaign plank for one of the perennial school-board candidates, whose Facebook rantings indirectly sparked the bomb threats that closed school twice this spring.

I can't blame this gadfly for the bomb threat, as the same threat was made against a school in Iowa regarding the same book. The emails were sent from an account with a .ru domain, which could literally have come from anywhere, including Russia, whose leader never seems to mind stirring shit on an international level. Clearly, whoever sent it knew enough about what was going on locally to sound credible on a first pass, though their repeated attempts no longer generate much response. We've been notified of at least four such emails, which the district regards as mere hoaxes by this point.

The book-banning brigades are out in full force in Pennsylvania as well, though they are meeting some stiff resistance, and taking a few noteworthy L's. After Kutztown Area Middle School canceled its One School, One Book event for Alan Gratz's YA novel Two Degrees, about, gasp, climate change, a student protest led to an even wider distribution of the book. Quite the lovely own goal on the part of the groups trying to prevent kids from reading. A similar controversy birthed the Kutztown Teen Banned Book Club, which Jason and his friend Maddie would have loved. (They dubbed theirs the Lost Generation Literary Scholars.)

Climate change and wedding planning will almost certainly triumph in due time. Outside of the most hardcore banners, those books will find enough support to survive. LBGTQ books, however, face a much steeper challenge. Even here, in Upstate New York, This Book Is Gay is at serious risk. Following the bomb threat controversy, the school board assembled a three-parent panel to weigh in on the matter. There were a lot more than three parents to volunteer, however, and they wound up choosing names lottery style. Mine came up 16th on the list, out of how many I don't know. And I have no idea what the political mindset is of the three who were selected. I guess we'll find out later this month when they issue their verdict.

All for a book that has been on library shelves since 2015, and had been checked out a grand total of two times prior to this ruckus. A book that would probably still be available to students if it were titled The Frat Boys' Guide to Scoring with Sorority Chicks. Because let's face it, the title is what put This Book Is Gay in the eye of this storm. If it were a picture book of rainbows, there would still be a number of Liberty Mothers looking to remove it. Gay people are much easier to marginalize in this country than just about any other group this side of transgender folk. LGBTQ releases are the gateway drug of book banners. Once they get an appetite for it, though, the slope gets real slippery real quick. It won't end with Nora Roberts and Judy Blume.

I can't go quite to the extreme of saying no book should ever be kept out of school libraries. I would draw my line at books that promote violence. A book on how to build a bomb or plan a shooting, for example, I could never support.

If that makes me a hypocrite, I guess I can live with the label. But protecting kids means something very different to me than it does to these Moms for Liberty groups.

Wilson's weirdness wins me over

My introduction to Kevin Wilson books came in 2016 when I read The Family Fang. It was different--in a good way. Creative, but very readable. Not that I could tell you a whole lot about the story at this point, seven years later. As it goes, I was still a frequent Goodreader at that point in time. So, quoting old me:

I was in the mood for something different and I certainly found it here. The Fangs are a messed up family, led by crazy parents whose idea of art can most kindly be referred to as mischief. It's best when it involves innocent victims of some kind and must occur in a very public place. They refer to their children as A and B (though they do at least have names, Annie and Buster) and after initially fearing children would interfere with their "art" they learned to incorporate them into the act.

Naturally, Annie and Buster grow up with issues. She becomes a semi-successful actress and he cranks out a pair of novels before winding up scraping by on free lance magazine work. For different reasons, they both wind up moving back home after escaping, and soon find themselves right back in the midst of the Fang turmoil.

Midway through I felt like this was a strong 4 1/2 stars, possibly a 5. It was one of those books where I was already thinking of people I could recommend it to. Then things slowed a little and the ending sort of underwhelmed me. I'll give the benefit of the doubt and round up to a 4, based on the uniqueness of the story and the characters, but there could have been more here.

And I guess at that point I was just lukewarm enough (lukecold?) on the ending to not bother going back into the Wilson pile for more.

Fast-forward to 2019-20, when I was running some steady Amazon ads for Sorry I Wasn't What You Needed, and who should start popping into my Also-Boughts but Kevin Wilson. When I first started with the ads, Jonathan Tropper was the gold-standard search target for me. It's a family drama with a bit of humor, which is Tropper's wheelhouse, so that made sense. The Venn diagram for Wilson never seemed quite as overlappy to me. But it persisted, and over time his name became a more productive search term than Tropper's. Maybe those waters were fished out, or maybe with no new Tropper books being released there just wasn't as much interest there anymore.

Regardless, I saw a lot of Wilson's Nothing To See Here cover. That book seemed to be the one most closely linked in the Also-Boughts. Which ... well, still seems like a strange fit. Eventually, I had to read it. And while the fit still didn't make sense, I really liked it.

It's a classic Wilson, in that he starts with a far-out premise, but sets it in a very real world populated with mostly normal people (well, as normal as any of us, when you take a deep dive into our heads). The hook here is there really is something to see, and it's a young brother and sister who spontaneously combust every time they get a little worked up about anything. (Don't worry, they're always fine afterward.) 

I enjoyed that one so much, I went back for more, asking for both of his other novels for Christmas. Santa came through, of course, with Now Is Not the Time to Panic and Perfect Little World. I read Now Is Not the Time to Panic earlier this year, and it moved to the top spot on my Wilson list. Another crazy imaginative premise about two teenagers who start a panic in their small Tennessee town by slapping posters everywhere with the spooky nonsense saying, "The edge is a shantytown filled with gold seekers. We are fugitives, and the law is skinny with hunger for us." Mayhem ensues. People die. It's both funny and sad in places. And so different from anything else out there.

I'm about halfway through Perfect Little World right now, and I'm not sure where it's going to rank for me. Early days yet. So far, it's fighting for third with The Family Fang, but there's time for it to move up the leaderboard.

Wilson's characters are all a little bit misfit, a little depressed, and a lot interesting. Really glad I circled back for more. I've never been a big short story reader, but he just might tempt me across that line, as he has two short story collections out there. Something tells me there will be craziness involved.

My Shepherd list: best annual baseball releases

I had the opportunity to write an author list for Shepherd recently, and it came out pretty cool. If you're not familiar with Shepherd, they compile lists of books recommended by authors who write in a similar genre. With Major League Debuts as the jumping off point, I created a list of the best annual releases to prepare for baseball season.

No surprise perhaps to see Baseball America's Prospect Handbook here. I have every edition dating back to 2001, when the first release came out. I contributed to several of them as well, though that's not why I like it. Check out the list to see what else I included.

It's also kind of fun to look and see what other authors listed. I had to, of course, check out the list of "the best baseball novels you've probably never read." Nope, neither The Greatest Show on Dirt nor Nine Bucks a Pound made the cut. Maybe he assumed everyone had read them already. There's also a list just called "the best novels about baseball." I didn't make that one, either, though I have read three of the five there. (And my list of best baseball novels would be quite different.)

If you are looking for a good rabbit hole, head on over to Shepherd. You will undoubtedly find a list that leads to another list that leads to another list. You might even find a few books to add to your reading list.

The Major League Debuts podcasting world tour

Hello again.

This has been a busy week for virtual book events for Major League Debuts. There have been three podcasts released (two of which were recorded earlier in the month, but that's the way show business rolls, I guess). There was also a new review released last night. So, let's get to it.

My favorite podcast to date was released this morning. This was done with LockedOn MLB Prospects, hosted by Lindsay Crosby. Lindsay clearly did his homework and had a lot of great questions. The only drawback is I was on camera for this one, and maybe that's not my strong suit. But at least I sound like I know what I'm talking about, and that's something.

Here are the links for the others:

The Show Before the Show, with Benjamin Hill of MiLB.com. Ben actually reviewed The Greatest Show on Dirt back when it came out in 2012. Really good guy, whose love for minor league baseball always comes through.

ML Sports Platter, with Mike Lindsley. Sound quality on this one is a little lacking, especially on my side, as it was recorded with me being on the phone.

And here's the new review:

The Sports Bookie, by Bob D'Angelo. Bob also reviewed The Greatest Show on Dirt back in the day. And I believe he did a review for Nine Bucks a Pound as well. He's a big baseball book guy.

The debut of Major League Debuts

I have news about a new release, but it might not be the new release you were expecting. This Is Who We Are Now is still waiting its turn. It was set aside in the fall for a more time-sensitive project. From September up to now all of my time, spare and otherwise, has been dedicated to the new one. It's called Major League Debuts, and it is out now. And unlike my previous releases, this is very much not a novel.

But there are stories. Three hundred and three of them, to be precise. Major League Debuts is a book about all of the players to debut in the big leagues in 2022. Which turned out to be a record 303 of them. The previous record, set way back in 2021, was 265. That would have been a little easier. Because for each of the 303, I wrote about their first game in the majors, what they did in 2022, and how they got there, with a detailed bio of their career, starting from high school in many cases. I subscribed to 40 newspapers to do the research. I didn't sleep a whole lot. But I got there, and I'm really happy with the way it came out.

Originally, in my head, this book would have been available closer to Jan. 1. Then again, originally it wasn't going to be this long. Or this insanely detailed. When I started in September, the writeups were 300-400 words per player. By the time I finished, it was a challenge to keep them under 1,000. I had to circle back to the guys at the start of the alphabet and beef them up to even things out a little.

The book came out to be 416 pages in paperback. It blows my mind more than a little that I wrote more than 400 pages worth of words in under five months. I honestly have never worked so hard on anything in my life. Novels are hard in a different way, but spread out over a much longer period of time, which makes it less intense, at least the way I write. I needed this book out before spring training started.

I made it.

And now, in some ways, comes the hard part. Selling it. That's no different than for all of my other books. Selling them is always harder than writing them. If you're interested in baseball, or know someone who is, the book is available in both paperback and ebook format.

Paperback - $17.95

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BT9CVZZG/

Ebook - $7.99

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BSWB4X51 
BN.com: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/major-league-debuts-james-bailey/1142978517
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/major-league-debuts

And if baseball's not really your thing, stay tuned for updates on This Is Who We Are Now. It will soon be moving back to the front burner. 

Pretty in Pink scratches the ol' nostalgia itch

Thanks to Covid, I've wound up with a rare bit of time on my hands the past couple of days. I keep finding myself on the couch, remote in hand, wondering what to watch to kill off some time. Some nostalgic person on my Twitter timeline planted a seed Thursday afternoon with a post about the Pretty in Pink soundtrack.

I hadn't seen the movie since it came out back in 1986. I was a junior in high school, and there may or may not have been valid comparisons made between my hair and Duckie's. Certainly nothing intentional. Not my fault he had nice hair. I certainly didn't dress like him, and while I may not have been the most popular kid in school, I wasn't quite the outcast he was, either.

Beyond the hair, I can't say I recalled a lot about Duckie, the character. I vaguely remembered the plot, or at least the key points. The ending matched my memory, the rest of it fell into place well enough, though there were points I was waiting for things to happen that happened in other movies. Sixteen Candles, perhaps?

I'm on a minor 1980's nostalgia thing lately. I picked up Tell the Wolves I'm Home in part because it was set in 1987, the year I graduated. I was practically obligated to watch a Molly Ringwald movie. Consider the itch at least partially scratched.

Observations:

• James Spader is super rapey in this movie. I mean, I get he's supposed to be an over-the-top jerk, but there is nothing redeeming about him whatsoever. Yuck.
• You want to ask, "where are the parents?" at times. But given Andie's dad can barely feed himself breakfast and it's the 80's, it's not actually unrealistic. We used to have jobs after school and not come home until long after dinner. We were much more feral back then than most kids seem these days.
• Of course, by the time I was 18 the drinking age had been 21 for several years and it wasn't even realistic to try to get into a club like Cats. (Well, maybe if you looked older than I did, and had a reasonable fake ID.) That went up in 1984, two years before this movie came out, so not sure if that was an all-ages club or if they took some liberties there. Certainly kids had parties with plenty of beer, not that I went to those.
• Harry Dean Stanton ... ha, the second I saw him, Repo Man popped up on my "maybe next" list. He's surely a sad sack dad here. Perhaps not 100 percent convincing all the time, but he's hard to dislike.
• The soundtrack sure held up. "If You Leave," by OMD is the one I've heard the most over the years, but the title track is just as good. And I was today years old when I learned that the Psychedlic Furs first recorded it five years before the movie came out. It was on their 1981 album, Talk Talk Talk. Which I just bought as I started writing this so I could push that nostalgia needle all the way up to max.
• Holy cats, were the "richies" ever mean. Those girls, particularly, were quite bitchy. And Blaine, even for being the nice guy, was more than insensitive to bring Andie to that party. And then to bring her up to the Steff's room to get away? Really?
• I know they were just teenagers, and it was Andie's first time to really fall for someone, but to declare herself in love after one really crappy date? Did we think like that back when we were 17? Yeah, probably. How painfully naive.
• Annie Potts was so great as Iona. Weird, but so kind, and so okay being weird. And such a perfect boss/friend for Andie. I didn't remember her in this movie at all, and she was probably my favorite character.
• I hope Iona didn't want her old prom dress back. I thought it looked pretty nice as it was, but give Andie points for making something unique for herself. Still, think twice if she asks to borrow anything off you.
• I miss real record stores. I would have loved Trax. We used to ride our bikes eight miles down to the University District (Seattle) to spend the day searching for cool stuff at Tower Records, Cellophane Square, and probably half a dozen other shops I can't even remember the names of. And book stores. There were several used book stores we would check out regularly. We were nerdy enough to think that was cool, and I still think it was all these years later. So there.
• The Duckie vs Steff fight in the hall ... I kept thinking Duckie was going to get thrashed, but that was probably a draw. Steff talks better than he punches. Then again, Duckie had righteous indignation on his side.
• I know Andie isn't obligated to settle for Duckie just because he's so infatuated with her, but come on, how long are we supposed to believe her relationship with Blaine ran after the movie ended? No way they made it beyond the summer. Maybe they saved face when he left for his Ivy League school in the fall and parted friends.
• I paid $3.99 to watch that on Amazon Prime. I have no complaints.