So last week Kicking and Screaming was finally released on DVD. This is a film that — unlike the insipid Will Ferrell soccer movie of the same name — is very dear to me. So, for a moment, it seemed as if my years of patient waiting (and annual VHS viewings) were over. But little did I know, my Kicking and Screaming DVD odyssey was just beginning.

As with any consumer good, my first instinct was to try to get it from Target. I love the experience of shopping there so I figured I would give it a shot. Now, I half expected that they wouldn't have the DVD — after all, even though the braintrust at Target seems to generally sympathize with people like me, I would never accuse their DVD selection of being anything but mass-market. Still, I figured, it was worth a shot.

Now, on this particular evening, I should note, Target was inexplicably overrun with teenagers. As I walked past them, I wondered, with my beard and my thinning hair, if I looked to them like an adult. I probably did. They looked like skinny, perfect-skinned aliens to me.

One of these creatures had broken away from the pack and was hanging around the DVD section as I approached. He was speaking loudly and brashly into his cell phone, like he was trying to impress a girl on the other end by seeming like a real asshole. Unfortunately, he struck me as a genuine asshole, and I could only stomach his announcements about what CDs he was going to steal or that he would bring over his bowl — but not his bag — for so long.

One pass through the DVD section was all I could take. No Kicking and Screaming, but I had to leave the area before I did one or both of those things.

At this point, I wasn't worried. See, I had a fall-back plan: Blockbuster.

My plan was to go to Blockbuster, where, I reasoned, even if I could not buy the DVD, I would at least be able to rent it. After all, this is a video store that stocks a film called Gay Sex in the 70s, surely if they would carry a film of such narrow appeal that they would stock a movie about being "paralyzed by post-graduation ennui."

Alas, I should have known my former employer better. Oh, I could (easily) find 50 copies of the throwaway Will Ferrell movie, but not a single copy of a film described as "one of the highlights of the American independent film scene of the nineties."

And so I wondered the aisles — from "Comedy" to "Drama" to "Sundance Channel recommends" — trying to figure out where this movie might be shelved. In retrospect, it was like a moment straight out of the film for which I was searching; just like the part where the Video Planet manager wonders where he'll shelve his major motion picture after it's released on video. "They'll probably put it in offbeat," he says.

But another line rang true as I slinked out the door empty-handed:

"How do you make God laugh?" one character muses.

"Make a plan."

The hour was growing late. I was starting to feel the burn of staying up past my bedtime. But I was a man obsessed, and so I pressed on to one of the only options left available to me at that time of night: Meijer.

Since it was a physically huge store, I reasoned, maybe they would have it. Plus, Meijer prides itself on quality, right? This is a quality movie we're talking about here!

One crosstown drive later and I was there. The store was huge. And empty. If Target was filled with teenagers, late night Meijer was filled with... nobody? Just a few employees standing around, presumably debating the merits of cola-flavored Icee versus cherry Icee.

Well, plus me, of course.

I checked (and rechecked) the DVD section but it was hopeless. But I did learn one thing: The reason no one comes here? No Kicking and Screaming. Not the right one anyway.

It was with some degree of shame that I next entered Wal-Mart. Like many who read this blog, I don't like to shop at Wal-Mart. And, like you, it's not because of any moral objection to the world's largest retailer — I just hate the experience of being there.

As I pulled my car into the parking lot, there must have been lightning flashing in the distance. From the garbage and shopping carts strewn about, to the rusted out cars, to the mutants flanking the doorway, it was one of two things: a post-apocalyptic scene or just another day at Wal-Mart. (For me, it was both.)

I went inside knowing full-well that I would not find the DVD that I was looking for, but I rationalized the journey by telling myself that there was the off chance that Wal-Mart carried every DVD released each week just to show off their massive purchasing power.

Needless to say, I was wrong.

And still, even I was unable to escape the call of the Wal — somehow, I ended up in line purchasing a $1.50 pair of wirecutters and a box of Kleenex. That's when the true folly of a trip to Wal-Mart presented itself: the people you have to deal with in line. Yet I dutifully took my position in the only available check-out lane, right behind a giant fat woman who insisted on buying every discount DVD in Wal-Mart's arsenal (probably including Kicking & Screaming with Will Ferrell) and the two South American soccer players buying 50 loaves of bread. Each.

By the time, I escaped, I had lost all hope. I was tempted to stop at Wendy's and drown my sorrows with a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger or two but I knew I didn't deserve such luxury. My all-time most personal movie had finally been released and I didn't have it.

Yet.

To be continued...