It’s the summer of 1987, which means I’m cleaning rooms at a motel in Ellsworth, Maine between my sophomore and junior years of college. It’s not my dream summer job by any means; I’d much rather be manning the midway at the Blue Hill Fair, urging passersby to shoot squirtguns at the clown’s nose for the chance to win themselves a decorative and functional Def Leppard mirror. The screams from the Zipper ride, the smell of fried dough in the air, the sounds of AC/DC wafting from the Tilt-a-Whirl, the camaraderie of the carnies…what could be better?
The summer that could have been comes to life in Greg Mottola’s Adventureland, although not quite as vividly as I’d hoped.
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