 My husband and I wanted to see a movie one evening. Through a
strange series of events that involved a DVD return, a box of
Cheerios and some ink cartridges, we arrived about 45 minutes
earlier than we had anticipated.It was raining cats and dogs when
we arrived. I believe there were a few raccoons and squirrels as
well, but it was raining so hard it was difficult to identify the
various plummeting mammals. Needless to say, we thought it best to
stay in the car and wait for the deluge to dissipate.
However, there were many people who, while not really wanting to
get wet, apparently didn't want to miss the previews and
mini-commercials that run for the first 20 minutes of their
scheduled movie.
I had no idea that there were so many different ways to get from
the car to the ticket booth. Everyone had a different idea.
We watched a man in a black T-shirt and a woman in a white tank
top bolt from their car, grab each other's hand in solidarity and
run as if their life depended on it. However, at one point, they
each chose a different side of a tree to run around and, as a
result, had to disengage. The man apparently saw no need to wait
around in the rain for his soaked and lagging partner, as his legs
ate up the remaining yards to the dry building. They were probably
already married. If not, he was due for a "Dear John."
There was the lady who emerged from her car with a giant golf
umbrella, big enough to cover a large bulldozer, but ran with it to
the theater anyway, leaving her husband to run after her in the
rain. Married as well, I think.
There were the two guys in wife-beater shirts who were too proud
to run because it isn't cool to run from anything. So they would be
forced to sit, soaked to the skin, in an air-conditioned theater for
two hours and try not to shiver because… that's not cool either.
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 There was a young lady who made all the motions of running except
the one where you move your feet quickly. Her arms were pumping, her
head thrust forward in anticipation of her imminent arrival at the
doors, but her feet took small, mincing steps. She looked like a
geisha girl in high gear. Good thing she wasn't in a hurry.
Then came the cowboy, complete with a black Stetson hat and
alligator boots. He galloped with long strides, as if he was still
on his horse, and had trouble stopping when he reached the ticket
booth. The brick wall eventually slowed his rain-slicked boots. Then
he turned around, looking for the bear that was clearly chasing him
(apparently, one of the many mammals falling out of the sky). He
then took off his hat, shook it and replaced it just like John
Wayne. Who wears a Stetson to a movie theater anyway?
After the cowboy entered the theater, a rather rotund woman
waddled from the theater to her handicapped parking spot. She was
carrying an extra-large popcorn bucket and a tiny little Tinker Bell
umbrella that looked like she might have sat on it. Three or four
spokes were bent downward and, as a result, 90 percent of her body
was being hit by rain anyway. She might have been better off putting
the popcorn bucket on her head.
A 20-something guy bounded toward the doors until he lost his
flip-flop and had to chase it down the raging river that the parking
lot had now become. By the time he caught it, he was so wet and
disgusted that he decided it wasn't worth running any longer. He was
already soaked. He held his flip-flops as he schlepped, barefooted,
to the theater.
When the rain finally subsided, my husband and I, wiping tears of
laughter from our eyes, got out of the car and walked sedately to
the theater. We were, of course, very conscious of exactly how we
walked. We were going to see a comedy, but it would be very
difficult for the movie to top what we had already witnessed.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist,
author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info. |
