Caught in the week-long dead zone between Christmas and New Year’s, with little to do but wait for the calendar to turn so my normal routine could resume, I found myself desperate for a diversion. Diagnosis: terminal. Terminal boredom.
I grew increasingly amenable to any potential escape from the post-holiday doldrums. And thus, I took a step down a dark path, with a click of the remote. Namely, “Breaking Bad.”
Here was a show whose entire run I had avoided, as much a polar opposite to my TV tastes as murder to Walter White's morals pre-cancer. Me, whose viewing habits were confined to Cartoon Network, Comedy Central, and reality shows. Me, who swore off "The Bridge" as too disturbing. This line of viewing, it didn’t suit me. But, in the “Pro” column, there was nothing else on, and I had time to fill. Just one episode, what’s the harm in that?
The next day, the same old boredom was there. So was the all-day marathon. It wasn’t too far of a reach to click the remote over to AMC again. And I found I couldn’t watch just one. I don’t binge, ever. A few hours of TV a day is excessive for me. I knew full well I could Netflix it on my own schedule. But I couldn’t stop – I wanted it all, right then and there. I Broke Binge.
“Breaking Bad” became my life, just for a day, straight through from noon till 3 AM. And then a second day of the same. Armed with a helpful hashtag, I willingly allowed mild spoilers from Twitter, in exchange for knowing when to turn away for the gory parts. Luck was on my side. I let all else go, save eating and bathroom breaks. I nuked my sleep schedule, with the rationale I’d catch up later. I had my escape from the real world, and it was glorious!
“them.” A binger.
So now what? I’ll tell you what. Time to go back to season 1 and watch again! … Albeit at a more leisurely pace.