Yesterday I thought I'd try going to see the new M. Night Shyamalan movie, The Happening, at the theater just two blocks from our house.
In the 7 months I've been here, I had yet to visit this theater, choosing to go instead to the the huge mega-mall with it's multi-screen movie house. I went by myself for two reasons; one - because Tom hates anything Shyamalan makes and two - because I'd been doing the single parent thing for 6 days while Tom was in Caracas and if I didn't get away and have some grown-up-alone time I was going to slit my wrists.
I got there early and went up to the quaint, old-style theater ticket booth and handed over my 2100 colones. I expected the usual chit-chat before I got my ticket but I was surprised when the lady in the booth asked me where I wanted to sit. Where? "Yes, which seat would you like?" I must have given her a deer-in-headlights expression, so she said, "Yes, you need to pick a seat." That's when she swiveled round her computer screen and pointed at what appeared to be a seating chart similar to the ones where you pick your seat for a flight. I couldn't tell which end was which so I just said, "I don't care, just not too close or too far from the screen." She pressed a button and a ticket was generated with a random seat number - D5.
I went upstairs still wondering why I had to pick a seat and bumped right into a little clump of theater employees milling around in the lobby. A very perky Ramon (name-tag) lunged at me and grinned and asked me if I needed help finding my seat. Um. No. I think I can find it...thanks. Undeterred, Ramon, gestured to the door of theater 1 and followed me in. He took my ticket and said, in clear, crisp English, "Let me show you to your seat." (I don't have that much of a Gringo accent, so I could only assume that the "Aw, fuck." I'd mumbled when my cell phone let out it's final death-beep a moment earlier had tipped this guy off to my native tongue.) I was the first person there and the lights were all on but he still used his flashlight to guide me to my seat, all the while studying my ticket as if it were a hand-held GPS device. "Now," said Ramon "you can sit anywhere you like, but this is your seat and if you sit somewhere else and it turns out to be someone else's seat, you'll have to come back to this seat." I hate being micro-managed while doing piddling every-day shit like picking out a place to sit. I was there to see a (most likely) crappy summer flick, not attending an opera at La Fenice, why the hell did I need an assigned seat? About that time, I realized that the large block of chocolate and four cups of coffee I'd had for lunch were now taking hold of my brain and it might be wise to just sit down and shut up before I pissed someone off for no good reason. Once in my seat and smiling my thanks, Ramon slipped off to usher another theater-goer to their seat across the room.
I had a good 30 minutes to kill before the movie started so I decided a little protein might make me more pleasant and went to the concession for a dog and soda. Stupid. The dogs were cold and nasty - no Kosher beef dogs here - and there was no relish or mustard, but I was offered a packet of mayo. The drink took two tries because, apparently, the words "Pepsi Light" sound very similar to "Root Beer" and "Orange Fanta".
I made it back in time to watch a chubby Latin kid, about 10 years old, throw his popcorn on the floor and scream at the two middle-aged women with him that he wanted more candy, he wanted to see Indiana Jones and that if they didn't take him right now, he'd scream through the whole movie. I was relieved when the women took him at his word and followed him out of the theater. Really, I don't think I would have been surprised if they'd just given him more candy and rode out the screaming...it's not like I haven't seen it before.
The movie turned out to be, like other Shyamalan movies, a cool ride with a dull thud at the end. As I headed out to meet Tom and India at a restaurant across the street, I passed the kid who'd left to see Indiana Jones - he was lying on the floor in the lobby shrieking while the two women with him bribed him with a trip to Pops (ice cream shop) if he'd only stand up and follow them out. Ramon, my usher from earlier, was nearly in tears laughing at the spectacle, but he still took the time to rush over and tell me that if I wanted a better seat next time, to ask for rows E, F or G, seats 7, 8, 9 or 10. I like that dude. I'll be seeing more movies there. Like I've said before, it's the little things that make me love this place.
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