As I've proven many times, I'm a child of the 70s and 80s, and no other movie had as much impact on my young life as Friday the 13th. Picture it: it's 1980, and at the tender age of 14, I sneaked into a drive in movie theater, through a hole in the fence with my brother and our friend, Bill. We had lawn chairs and snacks, the works. Mom let us do this? Yes, she did.
We parked ourselves at the playground at the front of the drive-in, right under a speaker. We met a few girls there (I still hadn't figured out certain things about that). Anyway, we thoroughly enjoyed the movie, and poked fun that the girls were scared. I had one of the girls sitting on my lap during the canoe scene. And when the climactic scene happened, I freaked the hell out, jumping up, dumping the girl into the gravel, and hitting my head on the speaker. To add insult to injury, the speaker flew into the air, and fell back down on my head. A double-whammy.
Oh, and then I found out my fly was unzipped. No biggie as an adult. Devastating to a 14-year old. At least I didn't wet my pants.
WARNING: Graphic 80s-style violence ahead.
And if you want to see what led up to the climactic battle, here's the fantastic fight between the last survivor, Alice, and Mrs. Voorhees (Jason's Mama). And if you didn't know, Jason didn't officially appear as an adult until Part 2. He polished off Alice, and now we can't get rid of him.