Before Streaming Gave Us Everything, Somehow Picking a Movie Was More Fun
There was a time when choosing a movie required pants.
Think about that.
You couldn’t simply collapse onto the couch, pick up a remote and browse 14 streaming services until you became so exhausted by the possibilities that you watched The Office again.
You had to go somewhere.
The video store.
And if you lived through the 1980s or 1990s, you probably remember the ritual.
Friday night.
Dinner was over.
The weekend had officially begun.
Someone grabbed the car keys.
And four words could instantly improve the evening:
“Let’s go rent a movie.”
That meant something.
Today, nearly every movie ever made seems to be accessible within seconds.
Technologically, it’s incredible.
Emotionally?
We’re not convinced it’s an upgrade.
Because somewhere along the way, we gained unlimited selection…
and lost the adventure of choosing.
So rewind with us.
Here are ten things we miss about Friday night at the video store.
1. The Neon Sign in the Window
You could see it from the parking lot.
VIDEO.
MOVIES.
RENTALS.
Sometimes one letter had burned out, meaning your neighborhood proudly offered:
V DEO RENT LS
Didn’t matter.
That glow meant possibility.
Inside were hundreds—maybe thousands—of movies waiting to be discovered.
The video store wasn’t merely retail.
It was the starting line for Friday night.
2. Walking the New Release Wall
This was sacred territory.
You entered the store and immediately headed toward:
NEW RELEASES
Then you started scanning.
Action.
Comedy.
Drama.
Something with a submarine.
Something starring Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Something your parents absolutely weren’t going to let you rent.
And then you saw it.
THE EMPTY SPACE.
The movie everybody wanted.
Gone.
You stared at the empty shelf where twelve copies should have been.
Then, from three feet away:
“Excuse me, are you returning that?”
You had become a hunter.
3. Judging Movies Entirely by the Box
There were no Rotten Tomatoes scores.
No YouTube reviews.
No Reddit threads.
No recommendation algorithm telling you:
“Because you watched a documentary about World War II, you might enjoy Paddington 2.”
You had a VHS box.
That was it.
And those boxes were magnificent.
Explosions.
Monsters.
Spaceships.
People running from explosions.
People running from monsters.
People running from exploding monsters in spaceships.
You picked it up.
Turned it over.
Read the description.
Looked at three tiny screenshots.
Then made a potentially catastrophic entertainment decision.
We’ll take it.
Sometimes the movie was terrible.
But you watched it anyway.
You had paid $3.49.
You were financially committed.
4. The Horror Section
Every video store had one aisle that seemed slightly more dangerous than the others.
HORROR.
The covers alone were enough to traumatize an eight-year-old.
A skull.
A chainsaw.
A creepy doll.
Some guy in a mask.
A house that absolutely should not have passed inspection.
You weren’t old enough to rent any of them.
You weren’t even old enough to understand most of them.
But you still walked slowly through the aisle studying every cover like you were touring a museum exhibit called:
THINGS THAT WILL KEEP YOU AWAKE UNTIL 2 A.M.
5. The Employee Who Knew Everything
Before algorithms, there was:
Todd.
Todd was 22.
Todd wore a faded movie T-shirt.
Todd had seen approximately 11,000 films.
Todd knew immediately that the movie you were holding was garbage.
You’d ask:
“Is this any good?”
Todd would stare at the box.
“No.”
“What should I get?”
Todd would disappear into the aisles and return holding a movie you’d never heard of.
“This.”
And somehow Todd was usually right.
Streaming platforms know what you’ve watched.
Todd knew why you liked it.
There is a difference.
6. The Weird Movies You Discovered by Accident
This may be what we miss most.
Today’s entertainment platforms are remarkably good at giving you more of what you already like.
Video stores were remarkably good at showing you things you didn’t know existed.
You’d walk toward comedy and accidentally pass:
SCIENCE FICTION.
What’s that?
Pick it up.
Interesting.
Then you’d see something else.
And something else.
Twenty minutes later, you’re holding a movie about time-traveling robots from 1978.
Nobody recommended it.
An algorithm didn’t select it.
You found it.
That’s an experience we’re slowly losing—not just with movies, but with music, books and culture in general.
Sometimes discovery is better when it’s inefficient.
7. The Arcade Machine in the Corner
The really good video stores had one.
Maybe two.
A battered arcade cabinet stood beside the window while your parents debated whether they’d already seen whatever movie they were holding.
You had three quarters.
This was your moment.
The joystick had survived approximately 400,000 children.
One button worked.
The other required the strength of a hydraulic press.
Didn’t matter.
For six glorious minutes, you were alive.
8. The Snack Counter
Popcorn.
Candy.
Soda.
Maybe those weird tubs of licorice nobody actually purchased.
The video store understood something streaming companies never will:
The movie was only part of movie night.
The rest was ceremony.
You picked the movie.
You picked the snacks.
You drove home.
Somebody made popcorn.
Someone turned off the lights.
The FBI warning appeared.
And everybody settled in.
Movie night was an event.
9. “BE KIND, REWIND”
Kids, gather around.
We need to explain something.
Movies used to arrive on rectangular plastic objects called VHS tapes.
And after you watched one, the movie was physically positioned at the end of the tape.
So before returning it, you were expected to rewind it.
Hence:
BE KIND, REWIND.
Naturally, millions of Americans ignored this request.
Which meant occasionally renting a movie, putting it into the VCR and discovering that the previous renter had left you at:
THE END.
Savages.
Absolute savages.
10. The Feeling That Friday Night Had Actually Started
This is the part that’s difficult to recreate.
The video store wasn’t just where we rented movies.
It created anticipation.
You left your house.
You browsed.
You debated.
You changed your mind.
You wandered through aisles.
You discovered something unexpected.
You finally chose.
Then you carried that movie home.
Today we can access vastly more entertainment with vastly less effort.
And that’s wonderful.
But friction isn’t always bad.
Sometimes the effort involved in getting something is part of what makes it memorable.
Maybe that’s why video stores continue to occupy such a strange little corner of our collective memory.
We don’t really miss late fees.
We don’t miss driving back Sunday morning because somebody forgot to return the tapes.
We definitely don’t miss discovering that the only available copy of the movie we wanted had been destroyed by someone’s VCR.
What we miss is the ritual.
The anticipation.
The discovery.
The physicality.
The feeling that hundreds of possible adventures were sitting on shelves around us.
And most of all…
we miss Friday night.
So We Built a Video Store You Can Visit Again
That’s the idea behind Retro Video Store Vibes Coloring Book from Radical Lines Press.
Not reproducing any particular video chain.
Not recreating famous movies.
Just bringing back the feeling.
The neon storefront.
The endless VHS aisles.
The arcade corner.
The checkout counter.
The CRT televisions.
The snacks.
The fictional movie posters.
The glorious clutter.
Thirty original illustrations turn those memories into pages you can make your own. The book uses bold, clean line art and is designed for both newer and experienced colorists.
Because sometimes nostalgia doesn’t need to be complicated.
Sometimes you just want to grab some colored pencils, put on an ’80s playlist and spend an hour somewhere that doesn’t exist anymore.
No membership card required.
And we promise:
No late fees.
Radical Lines Press creates nostalgia-inspired coloring books, word searches and puzzle books celebrating memorable eras, places, hobbies and pop-culture experiences through original artwork.