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November 15, 2005
Tipsy at the movies
The days are growing shorter and shorter, and the sky has taken on a permanent scowl of gray clouds. It’s more than halfway through the fall semester and things seem to be dragging on. As work continues to pile up I start to develop a nagging feeling that I need an escape. And what’s a more American form of escapism than going to the movies? The answer to that, my friend, is going to the movies with all your friends, half in the bag.
Wednesday passes into night and it’s time to get together. First, a stop by Big Top, the circus of liquor stores. The parking lot is surprisingly full for a weeknight, and I get asked for change twice before I make it from my car to the door. Come on man, have a little more tact than begging for change outside a liquor store. At the very least have the guts to admit it’s for booze, because we’re all here for the same reason and drinking is a cause Big Top customers support. But no, it’s the same old story about gas for a car that’s nowhere to be seen.
It’s funny how you can’t get in the door on a Friday without showing your ID to a cop, but on Wednesday they don’t even ask for it when you check out.
A box of wine, a bottle of Wild Turkey and thirty bucks later I head back to my apartment. In a few minutes people start arriving, happy in the knowledge that it’s not my turn to be a designated driver.
When my friend John show’s up things really get going as he immediately insists we do boxed wine stands. While somebody twists open the tap, the bitter acidic “wine” flows.
After hanging out for a while, somebody notices that we’ve lost track of time. Our movie starts in about ten minutes. So we mix some drinks into plastic bottles, which are concealed in jacket pockets and purses and head for the door. The ten of us pile into two cars and drive off.
We get there and head for the ticket counter. Tonight we’re seeing War of the Worlds, because, we’re gluttons for punishment. The dÄcor of the theater clearly hasn’t been updated in decades, and the stench of stale popcorn is overwhelming.
Something is flashing in my eye when I look up and notice one of the florescent lights is about to burn out. I’m partially squinting at it when I feel a hand on my shoulder. They bought the popcorn, candy and soda, and now it’s time to find out seats.
Finding a nice spot in the center of the theater, we all file in. The movie begins, and within a few minutes it is obvious that it’s not going to go well.
After five minutes we begin to play telephone and pass messages back and forth down the line. After realizing that most of the movie seems to consist of lightning strikes, I lean to my left and whisper “Where’s the whiskey?” Thankfully it gets passed down to me still about half full; I take my turn and pass it along. I don’t really know what’s going on in the movie anymore, but there’s still popcorn, so that will do.
Soon the snacks have run out, and I’m stuck there staring at a tripod shooting lasers. Thankfully, somebody asks me if I want to go for a smoke break. I was ready for any excuse to leave.
It starts misting outside when we’re outside the theater. “Do you think that they notice or care that we’re drunk.” I wonder aloud. “Yeah, they know,” I’m told, “They said they don’t really care ‘cause we don’t cause any trouble. But the guy in there said we should probably make an effort to watch what we say. Last time somebody was talking about boomers in the concession stand, and that’s not cool.” I have a feeling that last part might have been a pointed comment, but I’m not sure.
I’m starting to feel damp and tell them I’m going back in, but I don’t. Instead I head to a different theater and catch the end of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. One more minute of Tom Cruise and I may have projectile vomited all over the theater, and it just seemed rude to make the employees clean it up. So I settle in for the last Umpa Loompa song and before I know it the credits are rolling and we’re heading home.
Posted by msveum at November 15, 2005 12:05 PM
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