SPOILER ALERT! SERIOUSLY.
Last week at a meeting, someone who has "read the Game of Thrones books" (a distinction between types of viewers that didn't matter to the non-readers until last night), casually mentioned she was having a viewing party on Sunday. "This isn't the last episode?" I said. She replied: "Oh no, it's the ninth episode. Something big always happens during the ninth episode."
I should have known that I wouldn't want to be alone.
TV watching has become so individualized. We watch shows on our own devices, alone and in separate rooms, whenever we want. So that's why when something goes down like last night's blood bath of an episode of Game of Thrones, everyone has to figure out a way to quickly band together, which is what I've been trying to do with anyone I can find since the show ended last night and I stared into the music-less credits on my laptop in complete shock.
I've been texting my friends and relatives who watch, emailing people and accosting any potential viewers in the halls at work. My brother is heartbroken. The girl who had the party says we can process today. And one of my bosses expressed my feelings exactly when he said: "I mean, I'm a professional. I know it isn't REAL. But still..."
