Oh No You Didunt

Surely nobody asked about my movie-viewing experience Sunday at an AMC theater. Did they? Wait. There in the back. Lady with the bathroom-sink haircut. You must be a teacher, honey. Yeah? And YOU asked about my AMC experience? Bless your pea-pickin' heart. Now, just between you and me...

I wanted to see the first show of the day. It's cheaper, you know. Not as cheap as our old theaters that were privately owned, and then became Kerasotes theaters. Because we could see a movie there for $4 per ticket. And on some nights, for $2. Excuse me while I wipe away these tears. Two theaters out of business. And this four-plex gobbled up by AMC. The first show of the day can be seen for $6 per ticket. That's a steal! However, The Pony had his heart set on seeing the 3D version.

He's been jabbering about it since he saw the previews. He drug out my boxed set of the Alien Quadrilogy and watched Alien, Aliens, and Alien 3. The Pony is all about science fiction. He even entered a story in a kids' writing contest. Science fiction, of course. So I could hardly tell him that we were seeing the cheap regular version.

Tickets set me back $18. For two people. You city folk might think you have it worse. But down here in Hillmomba, that's a fortune. The ticket-seller waxed longwindedly on his ticket-selling experience. How the first day he was being trained (because, like coal mining or flying jets or diffusing bombs, ticket-selling has strict guidelines that must be followed), he had to insist on ID for a girl wanting to see The Hangover.

I take partial blame. He asked if The Pony was over twelve, and I declared that he was fourteen, wishing I had let him pass for twelve for a cheaper rate. TickSell said he told that gal no ID, no ticket. And she insisted and insisted and he had to get his manager, and finally, the gal went out to her car and brought in her ID, and she was nineteen. Then he wouldn't sell her boyfriend a ticket because of no ID, and wouldn't let her buy one for him because she wasn't twenty-one. And the gal actually called the police to come verify by running Boyfriend's SS# through their system that he was eighteen. So they got their tickets and lived happily ever after because they got to watch The Hangover. Makes me feel safe if I ever need to call 911, because the cops are just a theater away from rescuing me.

The Pony and I proceeded to our theater to grab the best seats. The ones in the back with only four in the row. But the earlier movie was still playing. Even though it should have ended twenty-five minutes earlier. So we stood around in the lobby reading posters. I asked The Pony if he was sure we were seeing the 3D movie, because we didn't have glasses. So we asked TickSell, and he said, "Oops! I forgot to give you the glasses." Then we went back out to sit in T-Hoe for a while. When we saw people coming out, we rushed in to stake out our seats. Just in the nick of time, too, because a family of four followed us, looked our way, and decided to take a big row on the other side, just one row ahead of us.

I offered to go get the popcorn and soda while The Pony held the seats. "Saved, saved, they're SAVED!" as Elaine Benes might say. While waiting for popcorn, I saw a worker come out of the storeroom carrying two giant rolls of paper towels and about eight rolls of toilet paper. He dropped them. Then scooped them up and went in the room behind the concessions. Remember that for later. Since I have the whatever card, I got a $4.75 discount on our large combo. We always take a refill to my mom on the way out. She loves getting something for nothing. Even though it cost me $15.50. The Pony was in an agreeable mood over the 3D issue, and settled for a box of Whoppers smuggled in by my movie purse. So that saved me over three dollars on candy.

While in line, a dude came out of the theater area and accosted TickSell. "Is Prometheus in 3D? Because there's a kid in there that says it is." TickSell said, "Oops! I forgot to give you the glasses." He was having a regular Groundhog Day, it seems.

The movie viewing went fairly smoothly. There was a shadow on the top of the screen the whole time. It looked like a microphone shadow. I was going crazy trying to figure it out. Maybe it was some crazy conspiracy. Like AMC was using a hidden camera to catch clandestine snackers. Finally, The Pony solved the mystery. "Uh, Mom? It's that little pull chain on the fan right in front of the projection window." And so it was. You'd think they could remove something like that. It's not like somebody comes in and turns on the ceiling fan with that six-inch chain twenty feet off the ground.

There were only a handful of viewers in our theater. Three of us were sneezing and throat-clearing, no doubt due to mold in the ventilation system. An usher showed up one time in two hours to see if any anarchy had broken out. It had not.

As we left, I waited while The Pony visited the little pony's room. I saw a kid get a refill, and the SnackFiller put the large cup of watery soda backwash under the spigot and topped it off. So when The Pony came out, I told him I was going to the little Hillbilly Mom's room, and taking my soda cup. I poured my remains in the sink. Which was clogged. What are the odds it was the only one of the three? I used the facility while holding that cup in my teeth. No toilet paper. Good thing Mrs. HM's movie purse is always prepared with tissues for moldy ventilation systems. I held that soda cup under my arm as I washed my hands. The paper towel dispenser did not work. No matter how much I waved my hands, said, "Abra cadabra," and contorted my arms like I was landing a jet on an aircraft carrier.

I stepped back to the counter for the refills. Had to wait. SnackFiller was kind to the family ahead of me. He must have taken offense that I foiled his refilling plan, because he was almost surly to me. Even though I had the lid off, and plainly stated that I wanted a Diet Coke and popcorn refill, please. Ha, ha. The paying customers ahead of me had gotten the two-hours old popcorn for their small fortune. But my refill was brand hot fresh spankin' new right out of the popper. Funny how SnackFiller was falling all over himself to be polite to the dude behind me getting refills.

I still don't know what happened to all that toilet paper and paper towel bounty that got dropped in the lobby. Because it sure did not make its way into the little Hillbilly Mom's room. This theater is falling down around my ears every time we go there. Even though prices have gone way up and service has gone way down from when Kerasotes ran it.

At least my mom enjoyed her free snacks. I had called her on the way to see if she could meet us at the park when we left. And to see if she wanted a soda so late in the afternoon. "Oh, I drink right up until bedtime," she assured me. And though she had not asked for the popcorn, she said she started eating it on her way home.

I suppose $33.50 plus gas, and 3.5 hours out of my life, are not too much to spend on making my mother happy.

Before you go thinking we were mean not to invite her...Mom does not like science fiction. She likes the romantic comedies. Or the animated kids' movies. And she will never consume a snack in the theater. But she will haul it home and rave about how good it was later.