Image by Thomasschoene from Pixabay

This week marks the anniversary of the opening of the movie The Wizard of Oz in New York City in 1938. Since we all want to attend that gala event, we need to take our Top Ten Things Not to Do list so we can enjoy the evening without causing an incident or a tear in the time continuum. All set? Let’s go. This post ran first on August 19, 2019.

Top Ten Things Not to Do at the Opening of The Wizard of Oz in 1938.

10 At the opening of The Wizard of Oz, do not think anyone will appreciate your cosplay attempt with the lion costume. If you do, at best, no one will take your photo. At worst, since cosplay is a thing of recent history, the zoo will be called, and you’ll be netted. (This is a fine kettle of fish you’ve gotten yourself into, Iapetus. At least there’s plenty of red meat served. I would keep an eye on that big fella over there. I think he likes you.)

9 At the opening of The Wizard of Oz, do not let Tiny the WWF champ see you cut in line. If you do, at best, you can quickly make friends with the person you cut in front of. At worst, Tiny, who was just warned about the evils of line cutting by his boss, has decided to make an example of you. (Stop screaming, Idris. Tiny will eventually stop twirling and slam you to the pavement. Then it will be time to scream.)

8 At the opening of The Wizard of Oz, do not make any comment about the Munchkins. If you do, at best, they’ll be too busy to hear you. At worst, your comment regarding size challenge will not go unrevenged. (How does it feel being carried aloft by one hundred hands, Ignat? I hope you enjoy the ride cause the next stop is the Hudson River.)

7 At the opening of The Wizard of Oz, do not sing along with Dorothy on the song Over the Rainbow. If you do, at best, the music will be loud enough to drown you out. At worst, the theater management will finally find you. (They thought you had brought your cat to the performance, Iliya. Looks like you better say a quick goodbye to your seatmates.)

6 At the opening of The Wizard of Oz, do not think it amusing to arrive on a pink horse. If you do, at best, traffic will be so bad you’ll never get to the front door. At worst, you’ll come face to face with the militant leader of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. (The leader makes the Wicked Witch of the West appear to be a Girl Scout, Imad. That umbrella feels like a billy club, doesn’t it? Best to ride out of town.)

5 At the opening of The Wizard of Oz, do not ask the concession person for a copy of the DVD. If you do, at best you’ll get a box of Raisinets instead. At worst, the concession person thinking you mean to hold up the stand will whistle for the police. (Now you have the pleasure of explaining what a DVD is, Imanol. Maybe it’s better to say you meant Raisinets after all.)

4 At the opening of The Wizard of Oz, do not ask to try on the ruby slippers. If you do, at best Judy Garland will say no. At worst, you’ll get them on. (Now what are you going to do, Indra? You have size fives on your nines and no way to get them off. You’re lucky there is not a real witch, Glenda. She would send you back to Kansas.)

3 At the opening of The Wizard of Oz, do not ask the Winged Monkey King for an autograph. If you do, at best he won’t have a pen. At worst he might decide to take you back to the tower to share a lunch. (Don’t look now, Iolo, but the term “share” has a different meaning to the Flying Monkeys)

2 At the opening of The Wizard of Oz, do not ask Auntie Em for a cookie. If you do, at best she won’t hear you. At worst, you will be the one-millionth person to make that request. (So Auntie decided to give you something for your effort, huh, Ionakana? Here, take this steak and put it on that eye. The swelling will go down in no time.)

1 At the opening of The Wizard of Oz, do not shout out, “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.” If you do, at best no one will know what you are talking about. At worst, when that part comes in the movie, the audience realizes you shouted a spoiler. (Time to leave your seat, Iowereth. There are about 300 moviegoers who want a piece of you. Guess what? There aren’t that many pieces to go around.)