I have a big screen tv, a comfy couch, and access to an embarrassing number of streaming services, so it takes a lot to lure me out to the movies. On this Saturday, though, a spring snow storm is making me antsy. Bad weather always does. Give me a good downpour, and I’m out on the street. Bored, I suggest to my husband that we head downtown, visit a museum. He’s at the window, watching the snow and gives me a pained look in reply. Okay, I say, “How about a movie?”
That morning, I had read a review of the movie Sinners and although I find action movies loud and predictable, the review was over-the-top. I checked the web to see where and when it was playing. The movie was on at a popular theater nearby with the next showing at 2:30 p.m.—in ten minutes. We decide to make a dash for it.
Where we used to live, a ten-minute head start would have given us plenty of time. Mind you, we never were ones to plan ahead. For instance, one time, over morning coffee, we decided to go to Puerto Penasco, Mexico, for the weekend. We were on our way by noon. Reservations in Spain. Nah. But now we are a couple of decades older and live in a big city. Besides, this isn’t a “Let’s go to Mexico,” kind of day.
These days, a date to the movies requires a lot more planning and brainpower. When I look up the movie on my phone, I notice that to buy tickets online I must download an app, provide my email address and credit card number, and only then choose our seats. Instead, I decided to skip the app and wing it. We arrive at the 24-plex to find the parking lot looks like Christmas Eve at the mall. On the way back home I Google and find the same movie playing at our neighborhood theater. I give in and download another app, and surrender my email and credit card to purchase two senior discount tickets. When I try to select our seats, the chart shows that most are already spoken for. I pick two available seats down front.
Inside the expansive lobby, I see two kiosks for purchasing tickets. I know my way around airport kiosks (even the ones at McDonalds), so I step up. At the machine beside me, a man gathers a roll of tickets spilling from a slot. When I try it, all I get is beeps. More beeps, but no tickets. An attendant nearby looks to be armed with a scanner. Sure enough, he scans my tickets. We buy a giant soda and barrel of popcorn and head to the escalators with our supplies.
Upstairs an attendant named Chris directs us to screen #16. Inside, previews are in progress (They continue for another half hour.). Our seats, however, are four rows back from the drive-in theater sized screen. Since the place is nearly empty, we decide to take our pick and juggling our snacks, climb to the choice seats in the back row.
Two teenager boys in hoodies join our row and settle in. Shortly, a middle-aged couple makes their way up the stairs and over to where the boys are sitting in the choice seats. Without a word, the couple practically wills the boys to get up. They collect their stuff and move to the open seats next to ours. While trailers of a couple of action movies bombard our ears, we keep an eye out for late comers.
Then we see them. Two men and two women trudge one behind the other toward us, looking mildly irritated for having to oust the four of us. We mumble our apologies with the weak explanation that our original seats were too close to the screen. The teenagers grumble to no one in particular, and head down the stairs. We follow but only to next level down where we claim aisle seats and turn our attention to our popcorn, thinking we have finessed the seating game. No-o-o.
Along comes another couple and they are headed for us, slightly smiling. We’ve got the drill down and I fumble for my jacket, but somehow I can’t un-recline my seat. My husband repeats the story of the too-close seat situation. The couple, young and friendly, point out that open seats are available the next row down. “But you just stay in your seats,” the man says, “We’ll take the open seats.” His wife smiles. We protest sheepishly, but accept their offer.
The day ended happily. We were spared expulsion thanks to the consideration of the young couple—our new best friends. Plus we saw a surprisingly wonderful movie that saved me from boredom on a soggy Saturday afternoon. Still I’m no fan of the so-called reserved seating system. It fosters criminal trespassing among seniors and teenagers alike. We can’t be too careful these days. Eh?
Haha. I've been a poacher.