Satire: Superfan goes to great lengths to not spoil “Avengers: Endgame”
Music and Society Editor
April 25, 2019.
This is the day I was born for: the day that is the culmination of my entire destiny. Today is the release day of “Avengers: Endgame” — a film whose budget could purchase a country, a cast of actors and actresses so perfect that one has to divert their gazes while they’re on screen and a fan base that will defend and scrutinize to their deaths.
Over the past decade, I have watched 21 Marvel films, seeing each one three to six times in theaters without fail. I have pored over internet threads, YouTube videos and comic books, constructing every conceivable timeline, predicting every possible outcome and collecting every bit of information about every character ever introduced. I hand-stitched a 100%-accurate replica Captain America costume (which was dry-cleaned for the occasion) and wore it every weekend. My comic book collection has 1.2 million pieces and counting.
All of these events, however, were mere stepping stones to this monumental day. If I were to have a child (which would require me getting a girlfriend first), I imagine that his or her birth would pale in comparison to the levity of this event.
I have not slept or showered for three days.
I disconnected every internet-capable device and unplugged my WiFi router, placing it in a metal box and burying it in my backyard.
I notified the three people I know that I will be unable to be reached for the next week and have worn noise-canceling headphones continuously to block out every bit of outside sound.
I have taken every precaution to ensure that my first viewing of “Endgame” has complete and utter virginity. There will be no spoilers. It is simply not an option.
My tickets were pre-ordered four months ago for the first showing of the film at the theater exactly 2.1 miles from my house. Due to the car having communication capabilities, I knew that walking was my only option. My daily trek from the depths of the basement to the summit of my kitchen refrigerator prepared me for the fateful journey.
Since eyesight was a problem for potential spoiler exposure, I wore cataract lenses over my eyes that blocked out all light and used a custom walking cane that was encrusted with infinity stones to feel my way to the theater.
Arriving three hours early, I got the perfect seat in the center of the middle aisle beneath the speakers. I left my glasses and headphones on to make sure nothing could possibly happen. I had to rely on my Spidey-like senses to determine when the film would begin.
I settled into my throne like Thanos before the snap, calm and collected. The warmth of the theater lights, the sumptuous aroma of popcorn and the comfort of my premium reclining seat made the wait fly by. Suddenly, feeling like five years had passed, I frantically removed my precautionary equipment and expose myself to the glory of “Endgame” after all this time.
As the light filtered through and I heard the buzz of the theater chatter around me, panic gripped my very being. The credits were rolling. The man sitting next to me said, “I can’t believe that —”
I should’ve known it was inevitable.