Stick and I went to see The Village yesterday. I got the tickets, which is truly a rarity. Stick has this bizarre, old-fashioned notion that he needs to pay for me, which is sweet, but this time I ran a secret mission to the ticket box while he went to the ATM. This proves that the desire to pay is clearly some twisted macho thing (on my part, that is, not his).
At this point, I ran into my old roommates, Star and Sky, who’ve seen me through more than one case of Meg infatuation. The symtoms are clear to the observer, a dumb grin and the conviction that This Time I Mean It. After the hellos, I put my foot in my mouth with the seemingly innocuous “Sky, how’s your fiancé?”
“He left me,”
Thankfully, befoe I could further embarrass myself, Stick came back from this ATM mission with smoothies! (See, girls? This Time Is Different!)
The teenaged guy checking tickets gives us a weird no-eye-contact mumble that means the movie theater is a Smoothie-Free Zone.
“Why are people who work in the movie theater so grumpy?” Stick asked. “I know why, ’cause they’re not with Meg!”
So we’re back in the lobby, with nothing to do by give ourselves brainfreeze by trying to chug a smoothie in under seven minutes. Don’t try this at home, kids. We’re professionals; Stick, who as a phone guy, regularly consumed his body mass in Slurpees, and me, a collectors of smoothies and smoothie guys’ phone numbers.
Stick also lets me put all the salt I want on our popcorn. (See why I like this boy?)
So we’re sneaking into the movie after the lights have gone down. We’re going to sit in the way back, the least disturbing place for those who were planning to speculate throughout the movie on the ending.
Then I walked into the handrail. I didn’t know that when you bash your leg into a solid object while carrying popcorn, the popcorn flies in the air and sprays the surrounding area. If it were an Olympic event, I’d have gotten a gold. Who knew that a small popcorn could cover such a big area?
That’s why people who work in movie theaters are REALLY so grumpy. Because klutzes like me pour their popcorn on the floor.