Death of the Salesmen

It’s funny, but I was overcome by a strong sense of nostalgia while reporting last week on the impending closure of TLA video.

Walking into that local movie store with its shelves of videos, throwback carpeting and alt-weekly-filled newsstands brought me back to another era.

The era was that of my youth. I can fondly recall trips to the local video store with mom or dad.

I remember feeling a sense of comfort during these outings. It was always nice to get out of the house with the folks and go do something fun.

The trips eventually became solo ventures. During my teen years, I developed a strong fascination with the horror genre, one that has yet to leave me. (Yes, I’m an admitted fright flicks buff, one who even takes to reading Fangoria Magazine at 30, almost 31 years old).

The point is that my video store trips became more than mere shopping excursions. I developed relationships with those who worked the counters at these local video palaces.

Seeing those youngish movie store workers getting ready to pack it in at TLA recently reminded me of the closing of my own local video store.

I remember when the first Blockbuster Video opened near us, my parents actually forbade us from going there. The folks refused to give in to the corporate chain since it would surely mean taking away business from our local merchants.

Eventually, our local place did close, presumably a victim of the onslaught of chain rental outlets.

Now, we’re experiencing an interested tidal shift once again. Back then, it was small mom-and-pop video stores giving way to the Blockbuster’s and the Hollywood Video’s.

Today, we’re seeing many video stores close, (the aforementioned ones included), since most people are obtaining their home entertainment through the mail.

To me, the act of venturing out to the video store wasn’t just about renting movies. It was about having a tangible experience, something not often afforded in this day and age.

Don’t get me wrong, the Internet is great. (Hell, if it weren’t for the Internet I wouldn’t have a job).

But it’s still kind of sad that places that played such an important part in our formidable years are dwindling away. At some point, I’m certain they will be virtually nonexistent.

I feel kind of sad for generations younger than mine, since they won’t have fond memories of trips to the video store, chatting with that mohawked salesman about the cult movie about to be rented.

What will the younger ones have to remember? The crappy reality TV show that was playing in the background at the time they placed their Netflix order?

I can remember when rentals changed over from VHS tapes, (Editor’s Note: Can the young parents please explain to their kids what these are?), to DVDs. That was a pretty huge shift.

Now, the medium doesn’t matter because the physical stores are saying bye-bye.

Video stores are like record shops in that people simply, and sadly, in my opinion, don’t have any use for them anymore.

Like someone once said, it’s hard to say goodbye to yesterday. But at least I’ll have the memories to look back on. The smell of the local video store will always be in my nostrils.

For the young ones out there, maybe the ignorance of not knowing what the local video store is all about is a blessing in disguise.

After all, there’s another expression that says what you don’t know can’t hurt you.