A Titanic memory

I can't believe it's been 11 years ago this Valentine's Day that my husband and I went to see "Titanic" at the theater. I was a HUGE fan and saw it numerous times. Perhaps the silliest thing I did was stand outside the store to buy the movie when it came out on VHS (remember that technology?) at 12:01 a.m. Sept. 1, 1998. It was a night I had to commit to paper a decade ago …


My husband didn’t believe me. My son laughed it off. I hadn’t done anything this wild and crazy in years.

I stayed up past my bedtime to buy the Titanic video at 12:01 the day it went on sale. Sure, I could’ve stood in line at 10 the next morning, but I wanted it now. I wanted to hold it close and keep it … "safe in my heart" … and get the free calendar.

I’m not one of those screaming teenagers who swoons over Leonardo DiCaprio. I went for the sappy love story. I went to memorize the pace of the music with the action. I went to witness the best and worse in mankind. I went because it was there.

I confess. I saw it six times in the theater. I even gave my 16-year old the money to see it, warning him to close his eyes when Rose drops her robe. I only have half my office ceiling plastered with images of Jack and Rose. I only have two copies of the soundtrack, the “Back to Titanic” CD, several other compilations, and the Broadway musical.

Call me a fanatic or simply crazy, but I had to be there because … "every night in my dreams, I could see it, I could feel it." I had to see the other obsessed people … "near, far, wherever they are." When I arrived at the store at 11:25 p.m. there were 30 people in line. By the time the doors opened, there would be at least a hundred more devotees behind me … "once more," ready to open the door.

You meet some mighty interesting people at midnight. Husbands sent by wives. Couples embracing each other … "to never let go" till the tapes were gone. Teenagers who just wanted to be there because … "there’s nothing they fear" … except the alarm clock the next morning.

For small talk, somebody mentions how gorgeous a night it is, as clear a night as the ship sank. A young man wants to be sure the store really will sell the video at 12:01. One woman declares the only other thing she’d ever stand in line for would be Beanie Babies. The guy behind me couldn’t believe there’d be this many people in line to buy “Barney’s Great Adventure.” Another woman near the front of the line screams the two-minute warning and our palms start to sweat.

Time slows. You can feel the ocean mist whipping your hair. You can taste the first-class champagne sliding down your throat. You can hear Rose’s hand slapping the car window. You can smell the iceberg that the lookout missed. You can see the throngs of people running for their lives.

No, wait! That’s the rush of the crowd to get in the doors to grab videos. Hey, buddy, your purple dinosaur can wait! Give me my wide-screen disaster … "my tape will go on and on" …

Why on earth did I fall for a movie my mother has zero interest in seeing? Maybe it was because my husband and I saw it for the first time on Valentine’s Day. Maybe it was because he was teary-eyed when we left the theater. Maybe it was because he embraced me and told me he’d do the same thing for me because he loved me so much. Talk about romantic. Forget the candy. Forget the flowers. Forget dinner out. The man I loved would throw me up on a door and float along beside me, clutching my hand until the bitterly cold end.

And by God, if he would do that for me, I could stand in line at midnight for the video, as long as I didn’t make waves when I climbed aboard the water bed.