I'll spare you the details of the trip up.  Suffice it to say that the trek was fairly without incident, aside from Rob's and mine desire to collect a instant win ticket in each state we passed through as a momento.  We didn't win.  Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois -- you suck!  And your whole stinking lottery system sucks!  No offense to residents of Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana and Illinois (hey, Rob's from Pennsylvania, anyway!).  Except for the lottery people.  Just a joke -- we kid because we love, and we especially love Illinois where Ken provided us with much hospitality and the good people at the Holiday Inn provided us with a concrete badminton court which we shouldn't have used right after a big meal.  And with that, we continue on to the B-FEST!!!! itself. 

Let me get this out of the way right now, for all the purists: we didn't stay the whole B-FEST!!!.  Heresy!  Before you judge us too harshly, realize that we had a long 13 hour drive back to Maryland and school to attend on Monday.  Okay, so that wouldn't have stopped us, but we brought our girlfriends and they have an inflated sense of what quote-unquote "grades" mean and how they will help us quote-unquote "get a job".  Not to worry, though; we've already planned for next year and we're trading in our girlfriends and getting whores.   Just try and make us go home! 

We arrived with our girls at the Norris Center at about 5:30, having staked-out the territory in advance.  Buying our tickets at the door, we traipsed down to the front-left row where Ken had told us he'd be.  We set up camp two rows back from the front and proceeded to nudge each other into asking the guy in front of us if he was Ken, who, it turns out, was.  We shook hands, met his compatriots, and shared Bad Movie Website war stories.  It wasn't long before the annoucement came that the festival was about to start. 
 
We leaned back, not knowing exactly what to expect.  Ken had warned us a bit beforehand about things to come, but we'd yet to get the feel.  Then Devil Doll came raging onto the screen.  The crowd roared.  The movie was awful.  Some sort of talking dummy named Hugo went around rampaging and ravaging people who sweat all the time.  People yelled out jokes at an increasing pace.  It was loud and the sound was horrible -- barely intelligible. 

We loved it. 

In retrospect, I probably used up my Slappy from Goosebumps joke way too early.  But you couldn't help getting caught up in the rush.  There's a certain thrill of freedom you get when two guys in the front row are blowing up an inflatable couch that you can't usually experience at the theater.  So when the right side of the auditorium yelled "Hugo! Hugo!" how could I resist joining in? 

When Devil Doll finished we jumped right into the next flick, First Man into Space.  Having given up hope of understanding what I was watching, I concentrated on just having a good time.  That being said, I don't remember much about this movie, aside from the movie's newspaper headlines which proclaimed our title character as "the highest man alive".  And if you don't think that served as a night-long joke to a rowdy crowd hepped up on Mello Yellow, then maybe you just ain't B-FEST!!! material.  As a side note, I'd like to give ca. 1995 slang-term props to my man Ken who had some of the best quips in the whole crowd during this one.  While Rob and I let our minor jokes fly every scene or so, Ken would save up and make jokes that always made us laugh out loud.  Clearly his technique was refined for the long run -- I'm pretty sure our voices would have given out had we stayed till the end. 

Following the plan we'd worked out, we skipped out on the next two movies, Caveman and Sorority Girl, which we'd mostly seen before.  Thanks, but I don't even like Ringo when he's speaking.  We dined and dropped our girlfriends off at the hotel, freeing ourselves to make fools of ourselves to a greater extent than ever before.  Yay!  We also picked up a few pillows, blankets, flashlights and Dr. Peppers.   We made it back during a short, right before Plan 9. 

I'd never seen Plan 9 from Outer Space before.  People say it's the worst movie ever. 
 
It was sure a hell of a lot of fun. 

People yelled out "Bela" and "Chiropracter" to distinguish who was the real McCoy.  Flashlights pointed out any and all light sources.  One man to whom I am eternally indebted had an adept ability to make a slide whistle the most humorous comedy instrument ever employed at a b-movie festival.  Paper plates (representing the flying saucers) flew around the place, a few of which some wag had labeled with amusing phrases like "Where's Ben Stein's money?".  I laughed and did my best to play along.  I can only hope that in the end, I contributed to the eternal rattan vs. wicker debate by introducing the third possibility of cane furniture.  Let me be remembered, brothers.  Now, if only I could think up a third possibility to the wave vs. particle controversy... 

So was it was the worst movie I'd ever seen?  Well, I refer to what one learned badmovieologist once said : "The worst movie you are ever going to see will be merely boring. And Plan 9 is most 
definitely not boring." One of the most noticeable things about it is how good parts of it -- not the plot, acting, or dialogue, but ... the sound quality was great!  Most of the scenes were well lit and framed (if you can disregard the fact that night/day continuity was ignored).  If you don't think this is a big deal, then you try watching Devil Doll a few more times and I think you'll see the point.  And that point is: the easier it is on the eyes and ears, the easier it is to look at a movie's foibles and say -- that's uncannily bad.  To sum up, it was the most enjoyably bad movie I've ever seen. 

So stop trying to pin me down. 

Read more memories in part 2 of 2, available now!

'Til next time, 
Alan 

Alan Gallauresi is a crazy man who should not be allowed near children or keyboards.  He must be stopped before he finds a way to ruin us all!