I'm not sure I could ever explain why, some thirty years after the advent of the VCR, people continue to patronize movie theaters. Yesterday Katie and I decided to join the ranks of suckerdom by going to the theater to see The Water Horse.
We purchased tickets for a 1:20 matinee showing. We then walked to the concession stand where we purchased a medium beverage for the bank-breaking sum of $4.50. As it was about 12:50, we naturally assumed we should get seated. However, we were informed by the woman taking tickets that we would have to wait for the birthday party to be seated first. "People are always so upset whenever there's a birthday party," the woman exclaimed jovially.
Birthday party? Apparently you can have a birthday party at the movie theater. So we waited. And waited. By 1:15 an impressive line had formed. We were eventually told that the birthday party had, at last, been seated. Our tickets were taken and we made our way to theater 5. Upon entering, we were greeted by a menagerie of rambunctious children and frazzled parents. We immediately noticed, much to our bewilderment, that all the prime seats had been cordoned off with masking tape for -you guessed it- the birthday party. We briefly tried to find acceptable seats, but finally gave up. We, along with perhaps a dozen or so other irritated patrons, exchanged our tickets for the 4:30 showing.
Like the proverbial bird who repeatedly flings himself against the same window, we returned at 4:00. We were informed, by the same woman, that we would have to wait to be seated. There had just been a birthday party in theater 5, you see, and it was being cleaned. So we waited. And waited. Finally we were granted clearance, and made our way down the hall to theater 5. Along the way we passed the birthday party, which now consisted of lots of children seated at collapsible tables surrounded by balloons and banners. Their cherubic little hands and faces were smeared with cake, and they excitedly wielded lollies and kazoos at us as we walked by.
We again entered the theater. I really couldn't tell you what cleaning was or was not conducted after the birthday party cleared out. But I can tell you that the theater appeared as though it had been recently vandalized by a hundred or so wild simians who apparently flung popcorn, soda, candy, and other (less easily identifiable) substances all over the seats and floor. Amidst the carnage, Katie and I -carefully- chose our seats.
Just as Katie began to open a can of cashews we had brought along, a rather portly woman seated behind us exclaimed, "Oh! I see you bring your own snacks too!" "Yes," my wife replied innocently, "it's cheaper that way." The woman then proceeded to issue forth the following, without taking a single breath:
"I always bring my own snacks. I like snacks from home better anyway. I'm a diabetic. So I usually bring a banana and water. I'm trying to lose weight. I'm doing Jenny Craig. My mom does Jenny Craig. But I don't like to talk to her. Because she doesn't care about her weight. If I measured her waist I bet it would be 60 inches. I was going to see another movie but she said I should see this one. I see lots of movies. My mom and dad saw this one. They liked it. My name's Karen. What's yours?"
At which point Katie immediately remembered that she urgently needed to call her sister. I, cursing myself for leaving my cell phone at home, ingeniously chose to feign deafness. As Katie got up to carry her conversation outside, I signed to her to say "hi" to her sister for me. Fortunately, the crazy lady quit talking when the movie began.
Just as Katie began to open a can of cashews we had brought along, a rather portly woman seated behind us exclaimed, "Oh! I see you bring your own snacks too!" "Yes," my wife replied innocently, "it's cheaper that way." The woman then proceeded to issue forth the following, without taking a single breath:
"I always bring my own snacks. I like snacks from home better anyway. I'm a diabetic. So I usually bring a banana and water. I'm trying to lose weight. I'm doing Jenny Craig. My mom does Jenny Craig. But I don't like to talk to her. Because she doesn't care about her weight. If I measured her waist I bet it would be 60 inches. I was going to see another movie but she said I should see this one. I see lots of movies. My mom and dad saw this one. They liked it. My name's Karen. What's yours?"
At which point Katie immediately remembered that she urgently needed to call her sister. I, cursing myself for leaving my cell phone at home, ingeniously chose to feign deafness. As Katie got up to carry her conversation outside, I signed to her to say "hi" to her sister for me. Fortunately, the crazy lady quit talking when the movie began.
The movie was cute and we both enjoyed it. But I'm really not sure it was worth the trouble, let alone the expense. Maybe next time we'll just go to Blockbuster.
