First, a disclaimer. I am not one of the people confused about the hype. Yes--it's about time I came out. I'm a Star Wars fan. I can tell you who Salacious Crumb is. I can tell you the name of the actor who played Chewbacca. I can tell you the name of the ice creature of Hoth. I know Boba Fett's third cousin twice removed.

Just kidding on that last one. But I did have tickets to The Phantom Menace for opening day.

Enter Emily. The roommate. You would think she was normal to look at her. Maybe "a little short for a stormtrooper." (Just kidding, Em.) She likes Star Wars. She likes The Empire Strikes Back. She likes Return of the Jedi. But the first words out of her month: "I can't believe you're going on opening day. Not only are you going to see it, you're going to see it on opening day. I have to say, I've just lost a little respect for you."

One thing about Emily I forgot to mention--she loves Han Solo.

Emily is not the only person to lament the absence of our swaggering friend--"the scruffy-looking nerfherder," if you will. Where are the big three--Luke, Leia and Han Solo--now? Leia (Carrie Fisher) still acts, although not usually in leading roles. She writes, both novels and screenplays. (I guess that iron bikini in Return of the Jedi was a little much.) Luke (Mark Hamill) works on comic books. He can also currently be seen in a series of commercials for Big Bear, the supermarket chain. (He uses the Force to move his shopping bags out of the store. Hmm.) And Han Solo (Harrison Ford)? Um, he's movie star. And Star Wars was the movie that did it.

Sure, the lightsabers in Menace are better than those in the originals.

Sure, Darth Maul looks wicked evil. And yeah, Ewan McGregor is pretty damn decent with that Obi-Wan accent. But a Star Wars movie without Harrison Ford? Forget special effects. Forget movie myth. It didn't matter. When Emily first heard the news, she burst into tears and refused to comment.

But I ignored her biting mockery as I tumbled headfirst into the popular culture trap and went anyway. And I have to admit--a part of me missed the swagger, the belligerence, the Milennium Falcon, the too-quick trigger finger and the stupid hyperdrive that never worked. Everything else about this movie was perfect. And maybe that was the problem.

Han Solo was the only major character in the original movies who didn't fit into a tidy little box. He wasn't pure good or pure evil. He was the anti-establishment good guy. He was sarcastic; he was crass; he was human. He didn't have a weird family tree. No "Han, I am your father" for him. He didn't even have any fun Jedi powers. He just had a junky ship, a blaster and a bunch of one-liners. Fisher recently confessed in Newsweek that "I had a crush on Mr. Ford before it became a trend." If that ship, that blaster and that grin were enough for then-19-year-old Princess Leia, they were enough for me.

So how, despite Phantom Menace being sans Solo, did I end up in line to go into the theater only five days ago?

Enter Melissa. Ticket holder #1. The master-mind behind our trip. Very nearly hyperventilating.

"I've--been--waiting--my whole life--I can't-believe we're-here oh my God--at-oh my God--"

A little over a week before the movie opened, Melissa took the T to Alewife with a sleeping bag, a science book and a bunch of granola bars, planning to sleep on the sidewalk so she could get a ticket for opening day. They were starting sales at 3 p.m. the next day. When she arrived at the theater, she looked around, confused. She didn't understand.

There was no one there.

So she got back on the T and came back. She was going to get tickets online, she said. Forget this sleep outside thing. I had to reassure her through several near-nervous breakdowns when she couldn't access the Web site. Finally she got through on the phone and bought tickets. Later, she told me she didn't feel she had "earned" the tickets. She hadn't worked hard enough. It was too easy. She didn't deserve to go on opening day.