So in a rare fit of stupidity and just plain hubris, I am attempting to go see a movie in Manhattan.
A task that has destroyed better men than me.
I check the times to see when Tron: Legacy is playing. At this point I am still being picky about what I see. Since I have not seen a movie in the city since 1998, my brain has blocked out that last attempt. I’ve forgotten that I most certainly will not be able to hear any dialogue so it really doesn’t matter what movie I choose.
I’m going to the Regal Union Square, the theater was refurbished years ago in an attempt to capture the grand experience and design flair of Grauman’s Chinese Theater only with less flair and more prostitutes milling around outside creating a different kind of “experience”.
So I get out of the cab and get on the line. However this turns out to be the line to get New York’s world famous "been-boiling-in-filthy-water-for-7-weeks-dirty water dogs” but now it's too late and I am forced to get three which I will no doubt be “paying” for later. Where intestinal distress will be my battle standard, a toilet my steed and my sweat the lubricant that signifies surrender.
I have no idea what that means but it’s very close to being witty.
Now I am on the right line, I think. But as the line stretches for 10 blocks, I have no idea for sure. To be honest I might be on line for the methadone clinic on 23rd Street where the addicts line up for their treatment every Monday morning and then spend the next 15 hours in Dunkin Donuts drinking coffee and shrieking at one another.
I have quite a wait ahead of me so I try to do some people watching. Some consider this a nice pass time, As a life long New Yorker, I know it’s more important than that. I have to watch all of these people because anyone of them…yes even the sweet four-year old in the Hello Kitty shirt could potentially be the wacko that sinks an ice pick into my neck during the movie.
This is research…this is essential if I’m to avoid a potential head wound today.
Ok….what do we have here?
Teenage couple making out, she has a wad of cash in her hands, too much eyeliner and doesn’t appear to have eaten anytime in the last week. His hair appears unwashed and he has a terrifying large boner in his pants. Note to self: do not sit next to this Kama Sutra in the making.
Two hipster idiots from Brooklyn are here as well. They’re both wearing hats that would be popular on 68-year old Jewish retirees from Florida. They believe this makes them look ironic and interesting. In reality they look like huge douchebags.
Four blonde boys and their Dad. He looks completely beaten down so I hope they are going to see something other than Tron because he will most likely be letting the kids run around the aisles and jump on the chairs and I need to avoid killing a movie patron….again.
Huge Rastefarian in a floral print with a super-white blonde girl in dreds. It might be a sterotype but there is a definite chance he may light up during the movie. Note to self: sit near GanjaMan and Whitey.
Three businesswomen, clearly playing hooky from work, clearly had wine with lunch as they are currently discussing the size of the aforementioned teenage boner and quite loudly.
Fidgety bald man with bad comb over…he is fumbling with something in his pants pocket, keeps wiping the sweat from his chin…or god help me maybe its drool. He is staring at the poster of Natalie Portman in Black Swan. That might account for the drool and I hope that’s what he is going to see as I have no wish to be on the front cover of the Post tomorrow morning as his victim.
Ah! Im at the ticket counter:
Me: “One for Tron”.
Her: “Nuh uh…is sold out. You late”.
Me: I don’t think I'm late, it’s just that your line is so long, it seems to start in Bensonhurst.
Her: “whatevah…wachoo need”?
Me: I need a ticket to the next showing of Tron. Judging by your syntax, you need another 3 or 4 remedial English classes. Lets try and achieve one of those goals today”.
Her: “…what”?
Me: The ticket, can I have the ticket”?
Her: “$19.50”.
Me: “Im sorry…I’m only buying one ticket, how much is that”.
Her: “I already tol you…$19.50”.
Me: “Damn…for $19.50 I hope I get a Happy Ending after the movie”.
Her: “My friend Alice does that…here her card”.
Me: (takes card).
Anyway, now I’m headed to a series of no less than 6 different escalators to get to the showing. Apparently it’s on the moon, judging by my nosebleed. I’m tempted to leave a trail of crumbs so I can find my way out of the building later.
I stop for “refreshments”…here is where it gets interesting and dangerous. The concession stand is a strange and magical place…things are constantly different from minute to minute. I’m convinced that the same insane computer that sets airline ticket prices is also responsible for pricing the stuff in theaters, You never know how much to bring but let’s be honest, anything less than $70 is being optimistic.
Me: “I’d like the smallest popcorn, no butter and the smallest drink you sell, a Pepsi, please.
Him: “Sup…so that’s a large popcorn with congealed butter flavored oil and a large Coke.
Me: OK…listen, that is not even remotely close to what I asked for”.
Him: “Sorry dude…there aint no small. Small is Large, Medium is Giant and Large is “Hot Tub”. And we don’t have Pepsi, only Coke and the popcorn is 2 weeks old so you’re gonna need the butter to help it get through your lower intestine”.
Me: “I see...tell you what, Ill keep my money and you can go straight to hell, how’s that”?
Him: “Well played, sir”.
I find my seat, not too close to the screen, equally distant from any of the strange beautiful creatures I was just on line with… out of ice pick range…not too close to the drunks…just far enough away from the hipsters.
Perfect…or so I think.
The pre-show begins and by that I mean that if I squint into the semi-darkness, I can see that the teenage couple is mostly naked already so Im pretty sure they’re not going to make it to the end of the film.
On screen…they are showing slides, one of which is a movie jumble that says: “This actor was also governor of California, can you solve the puzzle?” Arno_d Schwarze_eggar. Clearly this puzzle is designed to be answered by something between "gifted rodent" and "graduate from New Utrecht High School".
Someone near the front yells “Can I buy vowel, Pat”?. His friends think this is the very height of bon mots and they laugh hysterically for no less than 5 minutes.
To my left, the drunk businesswomen are taking turns sipping from a straw hidden in one of their purses. This wont end well.
Above me a cloud of smoke is forming. At first I figure… just my luck the building is on fire but then I realize the hipsters hats will probably be burned along with their ironic bodies so this might not be such a bad thing. A minute later I realize its GanjaMan…Ganjaman and Whitey…Hmmm... that sounds like a bad 80’s sitcom.
Now the previews start, the lights drop lower and I swear I can hear what sounds like balls slapping on ass but that cant be, can it? Then I remember the teenagers and think: yes... yes it can.
Trailer for Pirates of the Caribbean 4. During one of Johnny Depps lines, one of the drunk ladies yells “You Go Girl”! Im not sure if this is because of his eyeliner or how much she has had to drink so far.
Trailer for Transformers 3. As the trailer ends we see the title: Transformers: Dark of the Moon. Someone yells “Michael Bay can kiss the dark of my taint”! Strangely I find myself agreeing with him.
Trailer for The Hangover 2. I’m not sure we needed to make a sequel to this movie and by the end of the trailer, Im sure of that.
Lights go all the way down. A little mellowed out from second hand weed smoke and the movie finally starts.
I fall asleep.
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