Note to Self: Reconnect With Reality
Last weekend the kiddies were treated to a visit from several of their older cousins, the kind of cousins that are willing to entertain them in the pool for hours on end (incidentally one of my favorite kinds of cousins). By Sunday evening all three were beginning to look like a strange breed of raccoon, with pink rather than black masks around their eyes. So on Monday I decided, in deference to the evidence of sunburn and the pending heat emergency, to take them to the movies. Here’s what happened:
We arrived at the theater with plenty of time to spare, and I marched right up to the ticket window and said, “Four, please.”
Four, please? FOUR, PLEASE?!! I know I don’t get out to the movies much, but I have been there since the invention of the multiplex. Was I reliving a past life from 1952? Somewhere in my mind, was I planning to slide four dimes across the counter to pay for the tickets? Needless to say the rather exasperated grandma-type ticket lady at the window gave me a long stare and then finally said “For which movie?” I said, “Oh, I’m sorry, for Cars,” with a little laugh, attempting to indicate that I was just distracted by the kiddies and not focused on the transaction at hand. The ticket lady did not so much as crack a smirk or roll her eyes, she instead gave a small sigh and pointed at Marty.
“How old is he?”
“He’s two.”
“Then he doesn’t have to pay.”
Until she said that, I’d forgotten the time-honored all-American tradition of ripping off the movie theater (or at least trying to). I bought chidren’s tickets well past my sixteenth birthday (and I think I deserved them since I looked and was treated by most people at the time like I was twelve years old) even as I was sneaking in to R movies. I think she was offended that I wasn’t trying to get Marty in for free, whatever his age. In this area full of eastern European students working for the summer, she had probably looked to me, as a freckle-faced mommy-type American familiar with the English language, to at least perform my duties at the ticket window without needing so much assistance. So I tried again:
“Oh, okay great. Three please then... for Cars.”
“$21.”
The disgruntled ticket lady looked at the $40 dollars in my hand and asked if I had a single.
“Um, no I don’t,” I said, because I have reserved all of my small bills as tip money for the umbrella guy at the beach (I hate getting caught out without tip money for the umbrella guy). This little piece of information clearly shredded the last nerve of the ticket lady who probably had a romance novel under the counter that she was dying to get back to. She probably left home expecting a quiet morning since she works at a MOVIE THEATER at the BEACH and IT WAS NOT RAINING. Not only was I taking excessive amounts of time to buy my tickets, here I was planning to take all of her change
She gave another sigh, and suddenly I remembered that I had some of that shiny stuff in my wallet that can be used to buy things other than time in a parking meter. I counted out a dollar in dimes and nickels, and I hoped that I had redeemed myself a little in her eyes. However, her blank expression did not change at all as she said “Thank You,”and slid the tickets to me through the window. She didn’t even toss a grandmotherly smile toward my three little angels that were standing rather patiently considering the performance their mother was providing.
Into the theater we went to get our popcorn and gummy bears, and since we were so early, I had plenty of time to consider my self-inflicted problems at the ticket window. I decided I needed to get out more, to interact with people more so that a chore such as buying movie tickets does not prove so puzzling to me. In that spirit, today I went out alone to look for some presents for Marty’s birthday. And approximately 10 miles into my trip, I realized that my wallet (my real wallet, not the umbrella guy tip money wallet) was back at the house.
We arrived at the theater with plenty of time to spare, and I marched right up to the ticket window and said, “Four, please.”
Four, please? FOUR, PLEASE?!! I know I don’t get out to the movies much, but I have been there since the invention of the multiplex. Was I reliving a past life from 1952? Somewhere in my mind, was I planning to slide four dimes across the counter to pay for the tickets? Needless to say the rather exasperated grandma-type ticket lady at the window gave me a long stare and then finally said “For which movie?” I said, “Oh, I’m sorry, for Cars,” with a little laugh, attempting to indicate that I was just distracted by the kiddies and not focused on the transaction at hand. The ticket lady did not so much as crack a smirk or roll her eyes, she instead gave a small sigh and pointed at Marty.
“How old is he?”
“He’s two.”
“Then he doesn’t have to pay.”
Until she said that, I’d forgotten the time-honored all-American tradition of ripping off the movie theater (or at least trying to). I bought chidren’s tickets well past my sixteenth birthday (and I think I deserved them since I looked and was treated by most people at the time like I was twelve years old) even as I was sneaking in to R movies. I think she was offended that I wasn’t trying to get Marty in for free, whatever his age. In this area full of eastern European students working for the summer, she had probably looked to me, as a freckle-faced mommy-type American familiar with the English language, to at least perform my duties at the ticket window without needing so much assistance. So I tried again:
“Oh, okay great. Three please then... for Cars.”
“$21.”
The disgruntled ticket lady looked at the $40 dollars in my hand and asked if I had a single.
“Um, no I don’t,” I said, because I have reserved all of my small bills as tip money for the umbrella guy at the beach (I hate getting caught out without tip money for the umbrella guy). This little piece of information clearly shredded the last nerve of the ticket lady who probably had a romance novel under the counter that she was dying to get back to. She probably left home expecting a quiet morning since she works at a MOVIE THEATER at the BEACH and IT WAS NOT RAINING. Not only was I taking excessive amounts of time to buy my tickets, here I was planning to take all of her change
She gave another sigh, and suddenly I remembered that I had some of that shiny stuff in my wallet that can be used to buy things other than time in a parking meter. I counted out a dollar in dimes and nickels, and I hoped that I had redeemed myself a little in her eyes. However, her blank expression did not change at all as she said “Thank You,”and slid the tickets to me through the window. She didn’t even toss a grandmotherly smile toward my three little angels that were standing rather patiently considering the performance their mother was providing.
Into the theater we went to get our popcorn and gummy bears, and since we were so early, I had plenty of time to consider my self-inflicted problems at the ticket window. I decided I needed to get out more, to interact with people more so that a chore such as buying movie tickets does not prove so puzzling to me. In that spirit, today I went out alone to look for some presents for Marty’s birthday. And approximately 10 miles into my trip, I realized that my wallet (my real wallet, not the umbrella guy tip money wallet) was back at the house.
posted by Shannon at 9:34 AM
1 Comments:
Hey now, don't knock the romance novel. Reading them is the best part of my day. :)
Hope you're having a better day.
Best,
Ally
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