On Wednesday, TV’s Buffy Summers turned 30 years old, and I missed it. I had to read about it on CNN, of all places. When I first saw the headline, I had a mild heart attack, thinking that it had somehow been 30 years since the release of the original movie. I’m still reeling from the fact that The Empire Strikes Back is 30 years old, so I was in no way prepared for Buffy to follow suit. The Buffy birthday celebrations this week were apparently based on the date chiseled on her tombstone in the Season Five episode “The Gift.”
Wednesday was also noteworthy in the Buffyverse because of the release of the final issue of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Season 8 comic book maxiseries. Truth be told, I stopped reading a few issues back, shortly after Angel showed up and he and Buffy somehow sexed a universe into existence that somehow upset a seed thing in the Hellmouth…or something. I don’t know. They lost me. But the battles facing the characters seemed to be maturing along with them. Bruce Wayne can keep mourning his parents at 30, but Buffy can’t exactly keep complaining about missing the school dance. That would just be pathetic.
It’s kind of hard to imagine Buffy at 30. She and the rest of the Scooby Gang seem frozen in time, perpetually on the prowl and saving the world…a lot…in reruns on Logo. If I could offer some advice to Buffy on her birthday, I guess I would suggest she do what I did when I turned 30: straighten her hair, drink a lot of vodka and have sex with a string of nameless college boys on spring break in Las Vegas. Because it’s important to live a little and enjoy the world that you’re always saving.
Happy birthday, Buff!