We’re Off To See The Wizard…

What better place to attend the Wizard of Oz Sing-A-Long than in San Francisco? In the Castro? On the big screen, where every queen wishes she were somewhere over the rainbow…

As I waited for the others to show up, I watched the moviegoers file in. Citizens of Oz, bedecked in every shade of green. Tiny Dorothys and Glendas, bedazed. Three little boys sporting overalls and slicked hair, members of the Lollipop Guild. A witch or two. Couples, Dorothy holding her Scarecrow’s hand. Glenda and the Wicked Witch of the East. Dorothy and Auntie Em.

It was magical watching Oz materialize on the big screen. Even more so because of the millions of tiny bubbles that floated through the theater as Glenda, the Good Witch of the North, drifted down to meet Dorothy. Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. I felt the slickness of the bubbles explode on my bared skin. “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?” the audience repeated in unison. Why did I like her when I was younger? Glenda is sickenly sweet annoying.

“Follow the yellow brick road. Follow the yellow brick road. Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the yellow brick road….” It was like singing karaoke with one thousand of your closest friends. All the memories of childhood flooded back. The terror each time the Wicked Witch of the West appeared on screen. Her evil laugh, her awful pointed nose. The fondness for the trio that accompanied Dorothy, the absolute fear when the flying monkeys set off to get them. The amazement at the horse of a different color; the triumph when Dorothy melted the witch (at last)!

As we left, we couldn’t help repeat, “There’s no place like home…” Especially when home is San Francisco.

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