On the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series

"Goodnight, Marvin"

By Maria Alexander

May 12, 2001

This is a very sad day.

I woke up this morning and got ready to see the press screening of Shrek with my friend Abbie. I was completely unaware that something singular had happened in the world–in my world–the day before and a strange nostalgia fogged my head. For the first time in nearly sixteen years, I put on a very special shirt: a baseball jersey with cobalt blue sleeves. On the front of the white, see-through part of the jersey, it says, “Don’t Panic”; on the back it reads, “Re-elect Zaphod Beeblebrox.” My mother made that shirt for my fifteenth birthday. I wore it this morning because I suddenly felt like it for no apparent reason.

I was (and still am) a huge Douglas Adams fan. I loved everything the man said and wrote. He single-handedly shaped my sense of humor, made me an Anglophile, and crowned me Queen of Geekdom at my junior high and high school. At band camp, my friends and I even wore towels slung over our shoulders and asked others, “Do you know where your towel is?” We would squint at the other band geeks, saying, “But there aren’t any real people here at all!” We were hopeless nerds. Yet, we were unique.

I couldn’t wait to get a picture of Douglas Adams. I had the biggest, most awful crush on him. Once I did get his picture, I was very disappointed. My mother found me frowning over it in the  …

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