Friday night didn’t start when you got to the movie. It started at the video store.
You walked in and the smell hit you first — plastic cases, popcorn from the little machine in the corner, and that faint carpet smell every video store had. Then came the real work: wandering the aisles, reading the backs of boxes, arguing with your friends about what to get.
Everybody had a section. Action, comedy, horror if your parents let you, and the new releases wall where the good ones were always rented out. You’d grab a case, check if the tape was actually inside, and hope it wasn’t rewound to the middle of somebody else’s movie.
And then there was the best part — getting home, popping it in, and pressing play.
What was your video store pick — the one you rented so many times they knew your name?
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