With the release of the latest SpongeBob adjacent movie on Netflix, I figured it would be fun to share a story from the release of the first one. Cast your mind’s eye back twenty years, through the weary, nostalgia-laden fog of time, to 2004. A time when studio executives decided that every film had to be a sequel. A time when The Facebook was just a way for creepy Ivy League incels to rate their perceived attractiveness of women (or chicks, as they no doubt called them)* and a time when no one ever used hand sanitiser. Like, EVER. There were germs everywhere. So gross.

I was twenty-four, and typing that makes me feel one thousand years old. And, like most people at the time, I was a fan of SpongeBob SquarePants. It had been the biggest show for quite a few years by then and showed no sign of slowing. So, when the day of the film premiere arrived, I walked to my local cinema and bought a ticket from a real-life person at the counter using physical money. I arrived late but found a seat at the back of the darkened theatre and got ready to be amazed. And I was. It was great. It was funny and silly, and it was everything that I’d come to love about SpongeBob. Mostly Plankton. It even had a Ween song in the credits, which quietly blew my mind and confirmed my suspicion.** The track in question was Ocean Man. Go listen. It’s on Spotify. In fact, get a copy of the whole album, The Mollusk. Genius. But I digress. As the credits rolled, and I was getting up to leave, the theatre lights came up, and I was somewhat surprised to see that the entire cinema was Mums (Moms, Mummas, Okaasans. Take your pick.) with their kids. The whole place. Mums. Kids. All chatting and laughing and tumbling out the swinging doors. As the theatre emptied, I turned my head to see ONE other person who wasn’t below the legal drinking age in Australia (18) or hadn’t cloned a tiny version of themselves to satisfy a subconscious biological imperative. It was a slightly overweight man, about my age, also dressed in khaki shorts and a novelty T-shirt. And to my surprise (not really), he, too, was sporting glasses and a beard. He looked at me. Our eyes met. I stared back at him. We locked into steady eye contact for about three seconds, but it could have been a lifetime. Both of us no doubt had the same thought swirl through our minds at the same time. “Oh no. I’m wasting my life.” Which we were. Because all of this happened at 11:30am on a Wednesday. I saw a single tear roll down his cheek. I crumpled into a heap, and we held each other and wept. We wept for the men we could have been and the children we still obviously were.

I still think about that guy. I wonder if he made it.

Regardless, I have no genuine desire to see the new film. Much as I didn’t have any desire to see the last one. Or the spin-off series Camp Koral (which my kids briefly got into). Thankfully, my kids discovered the first eleven seasons of the original series on Paramount+, and they love it. I’ll occasionally sit with them, watch episodes I’d completely forgotten about, and be just as amused as the first time I saw it. Some genuine laughs in that show. I can see why Nickelodeon will never let it die.

Only half of this story is true.

*Now a billion dollar company that aims to control every aspect of your life, both real and virtual. Follow your creepy dreams kids.

**Greatest. Band. That. Ever. Lived.