Superman has been my hero since childhood, not just for his strength or ability to fly, but because he stood up for the underdog, the outsider, the marginalized. His story runs through the heart of my memoir, Views from Beyond Metropolis, as both a metaphor and a moral compass.
So when the new Superman movie hit the big screen, I caught a RealD 3D screening. What happened before, during, and after reminded me that even the most iconic heroes sometimes play to a nearly empty house.
By the time the movie finally started, after 30 minutes of trailers and commercials, there were only eight people left in the theater.
The movie? Solid. A high-level noisy story with plenty of comic-book camp and a darker, more grown-up tone. More cursing, more open-mouthed making out, and quite a bit of monster-and-robot smashing. Only one human casualty, though the collateral cyborg damage was massive.
Not really a preteen-friendly flick, but enjoyable for fans of the character or the genre. Superman still carries the weight of hope and idealism, even in a world that looks a lot rougher around the edges.
What stuck with me wasn’t the film, but the contrast between that nearly empty theater and what was happening at my go-to 7-Eleven at Valmont and Folsom, where July 11th, aka 7-Eleven Day, was in full swing. People lined up for the store’s famous giveaway: a free Slurpee.
Not for me this year. When I pulled into the parking lot, a few hand-scrawled signs taped to the doors declared “Slurpees are out,” a small but crushing blow to me after braving the summer heat for a brain freeze on the house.
The juxtaposition felt symbolic.
On the one hand, a nearly empty theater screening a high-budget, high-concept retelling of one of America’s oldest pop culture icons. On the other hand, a jammed convenience store gives away a small cup of frozen sugar water. Priorities, right?
A Brief History of the Slurpee: The Slurpee has a storied past. It originated in the late 1950s when Omar Knedlik, a Kansas Dairy Queen owner, started serving partially frozen sodas after his soda fountain broke.
The icy concoctions became so popular that he commissioned a machine to replicate the effect. In 1960, Knedlik partnered with an engineer to build the machine commercially, and The Icee Company was born. These machines began appearing in convenience stores across the nation.
In 1965, 7-Eleven struck a licensing deal with The Icee Company to sell the drinks. As part of the agreement, 7-Eleven couldn’t use the “Icee” name.
So, they rebranded it as the Slurpee (named after the slurping sound) and gave it their own flavors, branding, and promotions. That’s why Icee and Slurpee drinks look the same, taste similar, and use basically the same machines.
Since then, the Slurpee has been a summer staple and a cultural icon. It’s colorful, nostalgic, and always predictable, except on 7-Eleven Day.
Superheroes and Slurpees: As a long-time Superman fan, I couldn’t help but notice the parallels. Superman is a symbol of American timeless idealism and resilience, but is taken for granted. The Slurpee, in its own way, is a symbol too: of cheap thrills, childhood summers, and the small joys that still matter.
The takeaway? Maybe it’s this: sometimes the big, bold stories play to nearly empty rooms, while the little rituals—the free Slurpees, and other everyday traditions are what draw the crowd.
Maybe it’s just that you never know what you’re going to get when you walk through a door. Could be Superman. Could be a hand-scrawled “All Out“ sign.
Either way, show up. You might be surprised.
A Cold Ironic Truth: Here’s one last twist to the day. Before heading into Theater 6 for the nearly empty Superman screening, I noticed that the Cinemark concession stand sold high-priced Icees. I skipped in favor of water to wash down my medium overpriced popcorn, anticipating the free Slurpee.
It’s a dialectic. On one hand, six bucks might be worth it when you consider the air-conditioned theater. On the other hand, you get handed a paper cup with a plastic dome lid and a twisty straw for free, unless the 7-Eleven is out.
That’s some delicious irony.
The day ended up feeling like a case study in American priorities: a big-budget superhero film playing to a nearly empty room, and a convenience store swamped with people looking for a free cup of frozen sugar water, only to walk away empty-handed.
We still show up for the things we care about, even if we leave disappointed. Whether it’s the enduring appeal of Superman or the nostalgic pull of a Slurpee on a hot July day, we chase these experiences because they remind us of who we are, or who we used to be.
When the machine is broken or the crowd is small, the story’s still worth telling.
The things that matter most don’t come with long lines or loud applause. Superman reminded me, once again, that showing up, speaking up, and standing firm still count, even when no one’s watching. Maybe especially then.
If Superman or Slurpees meant something to you growing up, or still do, check out my memoir, Views from Beyond Metropolis.
Click here to get your copy today!
His story is woven into mine, from childhood to the present, as a symbol of hope, justice, and resilience. If you’ve ever felt like an outsider or stood up for someone who was, you might see yourself in these pages.
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