The following story occurred the night of Oct. 12:
I decided to brush aside the negative connotations associated with Joker when I decided to see it with a group of friends late at night. This isn’t a story about Joker but I will say this: I found it very difficult throughout the film to distinguish fiction from reality. I often found myself saying: this is a story set in the fictional world of Gotham City, and this is a story about a fictional character.
Denver, a full moon, at 2 a.m. is an interesting place. Following the movie, everything felt innocent enough and me and my friends decided to indulge ourselves with a sweet treat at Voodoo Doughnut. With the occasional stumbling in of drunk people perusing the doughnut gallery, we were all quiet at our table as we stuffed our faces with the confectionary delights.
I never foresaw the turn of events that would end my night, but then again who would? We left the shop laughing amongst ourselves, deep in conversation as we walked to the car. We didn’t pay much attention to the man following us from behind until he kept following us, mumbling jargon that we couldn’t decipher. Look ahead, keep walking, we told ourselves as the gap between us and the man grew smaller.
My heart was beating as we hurried to file in the car and then it stopped when he approached us, tapping on the glass of the window, mumbling under his breath, smiling. The doors were locked but the film of the window provided me with no reassurance as the man tried to force his way into the car. Perhaps he was drunk, but his escalating acts of aggression from smiling to yelling, made me question his motives. We drove away as he trailed behind running, grabbing at the air.
Not all aspects of this story are true, I’ll leave you to decide what is and what isn’t. I ended my night in a quiet car ride home–the tension in the air was palpable. The only thing you could hear was the faint sounds of police sirens in the back and for a moment Gotham City and the real world felt like it was blurring together.