The Thevictorian family hauled their stubs to AMC movie theater this morning to see The Hunger Games: Catching Fire. Only $5 a ticket before noon, you know! Of course we had to dig up some sock cash from the back yard for snacks (that were not hauled inside in my movie purse).
I would give you a movie review,
but the goings-on around us were much more interesting. Not more
interesting than the movie, mind you...more interesting than my review.
thought we would arrive 30 minutes before showtime. Somehow Hick's
estimate of the journey was shorter than the real thing. Which surprised
me entirely. One would think he would have had those items reversed.
So...we were only 20 minutes ahead of showtime. That meant that other
people were already inside the theater! Thank Even Steven, nobody had
taken our 4-row of seats in the back. Oh, two old ladies were in the
very last row, also a 4, but ours was still available. I felt a little
bit bad about sitting down in front of them, what with them having
gotten there early to pick their seats (heh heh, I said pick their seats). I could almost hear their eyes rolling in their heads as we settled in.
Pony had his nose out of joint because Hick dared to sit between us.
Everybody knows the child comes between the parents. Besides, it's
usually just The Pony and me. We are accomplished adjacent-seat-mates.
It's like being one of those Hindu deities with multiple arms. We can
juggle two sodas, popcorn, candy, cell phones, glasses, Kindle,
mini-spiral-notebook, pen, car keys, Butter Buds, and Kleenex without
speaking a word. Hick agreed to switch places when we went out for
We got back just in time for some lackluster previews. The Pony was especially all "No way!" about Vampire High. For a moment I thought Divergent looked promising. However, The Pony nixed that one as well. Nor was he impressed by 47 Ronin. Looks like we'll not be padding the pockets of AMC for a while.
feature presentation was about ten minutes underway when a lady came
through the swinging doors. She stood there, jangling her keys. A
signal, perhaps, to folks she was meeting. But no. She just stood. Then
she came over towards us. Uh uh. Not happening. If she wanted a seat,
she was going to have to scale the heights of Val Thevictorian and
skootch over next to Hick. Val moves down the row for no latecomer.
However...a rumble was not in the cards for me today, my friends.
Lady-Come-Lately sat directly behind me. Oh, well. Let her peer through
my lovely lady mullet for 2.5 hours minus ten minutes. Then she started
jangling those confounded keys again. Like she was trying to make a baby
look at the camera. I'm not sure what the other two old ladies thought
about being trapped in their row. I couldn't hear they eyes rolling over
the sound of those confounded jangling keys.
think orbiting oculars and clashing metal were the only barrier to Val's
full enjoyment. Our very own Hick made his contribution on the noise
pollution front. After The Pony was done with the feedbag, he passed it
to Hick. A noisier popcorn eater you'll never hear than Hick. He's one
of those people who jam their ham-fisted hands into the bag, smashing
all the kernels to confetti, then squeeze a palm-full like making a dry
popcorn ball, and crush it onto his face area, herding it into his
gaping maw. He sounded like Bigfoot stomping through a swimming pool full
of cornflakes. Then The Pony eased into his line of melody, trying to
open a cellophane bag inside the Cookie Dough Bites box. It's a good
thing the sound was cranked up for our movie.
The Hunger Games: Catching Fire was the shortest 146-minute movie I've ever seen. The time did not drag. I almost squeezed out a tear at one certain scene. And then it was over! Only a couple of years to wait for the last movie. As the credits were rolling, a voice behind me jolted me out of my reverie.
"You're a much taller lady than I thought."
HUH? The Lady-Come-Lately dared to comment on the statuesqueness of Val, who was rightfully in her seat BEFORE Lady-Come-Lately came in and picked her seat (heh heh, did it again). Well, I never! The boldness of those Lately folks apparently knows no bounds. And THEN, Lady-Come-Lately had the nerve to place her hand upon my shoulder, lean over, and ask, "Is that your son?"
No. I just waltzed in here a mere nine minutes after showtime, and sat down by a random stranger. Like you. That's what I wanted to say. But I did not. I'm no common Lately.
"It's me. Lady Lately. Remember, I used to substitute? Where is your oldest boy going to school?"
Dear me. Lady Lately! Of course I remember her. It's just unfortunate that she was standing directly behind me in a dark movie theater. How uncoordinated of me not to see her clearly for recognition. Then I did feel kind of bad. Because I, in my own noncommittal way, harbor no ill will toward Lady Lately. She's a good egg. And her being a widder-woman and all, with her three strapping sons serving in various and assorted branches of the armed services, one of them even with that anagrammed entity that scans the skies for Santa every Christmas Eve, and ne'er-do-well intruders the other 364.
Sorry, Lady Lately. I DO remember you, and wish you well. I'll even forgive the key-jangling.
If you're not an old country music aficionado, you won't get the title, a line from Clint Black's "Walkin' Away." My finest hour spent here with you in the dark, just before I saw the light.