海角大神

Two weeks. That鈥檚 how long it took my 13-year-old to stream all 10 seasons of 鈥淔riends.鈥� It took me an entire decade to watch them.

Curtailing my daughter鈥檚 binge watching might have been the more prudent parenting choice, but that would have been hypocritical. Few things are more intoxicating than the appearance of the 鈥渘ext episode鈥� button. This is especially true for those of us who remember when watching a favorite TV show was a study in loyalty and logistics.

During the original run of 鈥淔riends,鈥� beginning in 1994, my two sisters and I had a standing Thursday night date to watch each new episode 鈥� from theme song to credits 鈥� as it aired. With a 7 p.m. start time, making this rendezvous wasn鈥檛 easy.

Without Google Maps, smartphones, and Siri, we relied entirely on our savvy and street smarts to get us to the TV on time, takeout in tow. Heart rates surged as we endured traffic jams, sluggish mass transit, and the occasional blizzard. With no time to spare, we鈥檇 double-park, risking pricey tickets as we nervously waited for our order at our favorite sushi place.

When the three of us were, at last, assembled, we鈥檇 click on the TV and breathe a collective sigh of relief. And yet, tension lingered. History had shown that our meticulous plans could be upended: a ringing landline that could not be silenced or ignored (What if it鈥檚 Mom?), an interruption for breaking news (Now? Really?), a spicy tuna roll missing from an order. Worst of all was the appearance of a spouse who did not respect the sanctity of silence. His uninvited commentary might drown out a key piece of dialogue (鈥淲e were on a break!鈥�). With no pause button, no rewind, no next-day viral video, there was only the interminable wait for summer reruns.

My daughter鈥檚 鈥淔riends鈥� experience was considerably less harrowing. She got dressed, snacked, and brushed her teeth accompanied by Rachel, Ross, and the gang. When life interrupted in the form of school or extracurricular activities, she鈥檇 groan, reluctantly press pause, and then seamlessly resume once her schedule permitted. Her only real challenge was announced with a blood-curdling scream when buffering interrupted her viewing bliss.

鈥淚 can鈥檛 wait to see what happens at Ross鈥檚 wedding,鈥� my daughter said one day as we ran errands, her eyes glued to her cellphone screen. Seconds later, she was watching the nuptials unfold while I silently fumed at the ease with which she transitioned from one precious episode to the next. She was greedily devouring a meal that I鈥檇 slowly savored.

Am I a better, more patient, morally superior person because I had to endure months of anxious anticipation before finding out what happened after Ross inadvertently said Rachel鈥檚 name during his vows to Emily? Hardly. Given a screen and the ability to stream, I鈥檇 have done little else with my childhood. Still, I can鈥檛 help feeling that my daughter has missed out on essential aspects of my TV-watching experience: Anticipation. Urgency. Marking the passage of time.

In the decade that 鈥淔riends鈥� aired, the characters, the actors who portrayed them, and the story lines evolved slowly, as did we. Our jeans dropped from high waist to hip, sweaters shrank, and shoulder pads disappeared. New relationships, careers, and families formed. Technology and politics underwent seismic shifts. In the two weeks my daughter speed-watched, the weather barely changed. How vested could she truly be in Joey鈥檚 acting career, Monica鈥檚 desire for a baby, or Ross鈥檚 failed marriages? Can she comprehend the outsize societal impact of Rachel鈥檚 hairstyle or the heart-wrenching disappearance of the twin towers from the show鈥檚 cityscape background shots?

As transcendent as a film, a book, a song, or even a 鈥渟illy鈥� sitcom might have felt to me, it鈥檚 futile to expect it to resonate with my daughter. I can鈥檛 convey the zeitgeist anymore than I can defend the presence of Marcel, the monkey on Season 1.

My daughter, now on her second or third go-round, is creating her own relationship with 鈥淔riends.鈥� The good news? We鈥檝e bonded over our shared, if not identical, love for it. She vigorously states her opinions (鈥淢onica is so bossy!鈥�). I give mine (鈥淢onica just wants things the way she wants them.鈥�). She offers a refresher course on the importance of achieving a state of 鈥淯nagi.鈥� I tell her back-in-the-day tales of my struggles to get sushi on 鈥淔riends鈥�-watching Thursdays. She informs me that Phoebe鈥檚 twin sister, Ursula, was originally on a show called 鈥淢ad About You.鈥� I feign surprise.

鈥淚 wish I lived in the 鈥�90s,鈥� my daughter said recently. 鈥淧eople sat around and actually talked instead of staring at their phones all the time. It seems like more fun.鈥�

鈥淵up, those were the good old days,鈥� I said, her perspective a welcome surprise. 鈥淭alk, talk, talk, that鈥檚 all we did.鈥� Except, that is, when we were scrambling to get to the TV on time.