I've got this friend - we'll call him Carl - and to call Carl a "Harry Potter" fan would be like saying Angelina Jolie isn't trying to form her own international soccer team through adoption. What I'm trying to say is there are people who read the books and people who keep abreast of major "Harry Potter" happenings and then there's Carl.
I've been fortunate to have Carl as a friend because I never have to worry about being the most eccentric person in the room. Ever. After all, this is the same guy who, after nights on the town, will walk home, pick up a stick and use it as a wand while shouting spells at people passing by.
A few weeks back, Carl came busting through the door with a crazed look on his face like the one Tom Cruise gets defending Scientology. It took him 0.005 seconds to shriek out, "The new 'Harry Potter' is coming out July 21st and ..." I knew what was coming next; making plans for the midnight release party. I held out hope for an exciting plan, but sadly, once again, the Mission Valley Barnes & Noble would be the place to be.
If I sound bitter, it's because the last "Harry Potter" release party wasn't my cup of Butter Beer. Carl and I got there and were instantly surrounded with what I can only assume was every elementary and middle school child in the San Diego area. Borat's interviewees didn't feel as uncomfortable as I did.
Worse still is when Carl, being a man of great stature, suggested I put a sticker of a lighting bolt scar on my forehead to help get me more excited. With the sticker firmly attached, Carl quickly withdrew his wooden replica wand - yes, a replica wand - and scampered off to meet a man dressed as Dumbledore.
I retreated to the new releases section of the store where I met an overenthusiastic mother incessantly talking about her children. As I was awkwardly forced to admire these little Harry and Hermione replicas, the shocker came when the mom asked me where my little ones were. A little befuddled, I pointed over to Carl, who was now vehemently arguing with a 10-year-old girl about why making the books into movies was destroying America.
I wandered around trying to memorize the store layout for a couple of hours until Carl was finally called up to the register to buy his copy. Mothers don't carry their newborns with the care that Carl held his book as we left the store.
The night appeared over until we rounded the corner and Carl overheard a girl read a portion of the book. Thinking nothing of it, I kept walking until I heard someone whimpering. I turned back to see Carl crying - the only time I've ever seen Carl cry - because someone was "ruining the book." (He plans on bringing ear plugs this time around.)
A rational person may ask why I'm putting myself through this again, and the short answer is I have to pay some price for all the laughs I get at Carl's expense.
My favorite go-to laugh at the moment is chiding Carl about the rumors that J.K. Rowling is going to kill Harry off to protect her story. This leads to Carl's face turning a deep shade of purple and telling me in an eerily low voice, "Would you want to be responsible for an army of children rioting throughout Scotland? They'd make the Watts riots look like a walk through Candyland."
Because this is the last time I'll ever have to go through this and Carl will never stop being Carl, one more midnight party won't kill me. Hell, not even his daily countdown will hamper my spirits (124 days for those counting at home).
Making me wear a lighting bolt scar sticker two years ago is another story. That score still needs to be settled. My dream scenario: I finish the book first, threaten to tell him the ending and have him walk into ENS 280 in a full wizard outfit pointing his wand at the professor and shouting Expelliarmus! Yeah, that'll be nice.
-Drew Hendrickson is a psychology junior.
-This column does not necessarily reflect the opinion of The Daily Aztec.
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