It seemed a simple enough plan. My husband Randy wanted to see the new documentary about Paul McCartney, “Man on the Run” at the local theater. He bought tickets online and a few days later, we zoomed off to the 7:00 p.m. show.
Except…
I found out the Connecticut Department of Transportation recently changed all exit numbers on several local highways. Who does that? It’s like rearranging everyone’s home furniture. Instead of getting off Exit 5, (which used to be Exit 6), I drove too far and had to turn around, adding ten minutes.
I hate being late to anything, especially movies. Would we have to search for our seats in the dark, people shushing us as we argued about where we were going?
We finally arrived at the theater right at 7:00 p.m. Oh well, I figured, we wouldn’t have to see those horrible, loud previews. We came to the ticket counter where several lines seemed to serve different purposes. We settled in one, finally got up there, and were told to go to line 3 since our tickets were bought online. We made our way to line 3, waited behind more people, and finally, after what felt like years, our tickets were swiped. We were in.
Randy was having dinner, so we rounded the corner for the snack bar, only to find about 25 people in line.
At this point, Randy kept looking around in confusion. “Where’s Priority snacks? I signed up for that.” “Priority snacks?” I kept asking. “What does that mean?” I kept hoping for a magical portal, like the secret train platform in Harry Potter, to appear. We’d walk through and be greeted by our own popcorn stand. Unfortunately, we saw no magical portal or Priority snacks.
Finally, after Randy bought his food (dinner was a hot dog, large popcorn, and a giant soda) we trekked to Theater 1, indicated on the ticket. Thankfully, it was close. To lighten Randy’s load, I carried his soda.
We entered Theater 1 where I was immediately confused. The seats were full of teenage girls. Geez, I knew McCartney was an adorable hunk—fifty years ago. Could his obsessive fans be still this fervent four generations later?
To make matters worse, when we came to our assigned seats, they were filled with a bunch of giggling young females. Those whippersnappers, I thought, trying to take our places. Thank God, the previews were on so we could talk without disrupting the entire theater. “Are these your seats?” we asked, trying to hear above the bombs and guns of an action movie trailer. The girls produced their tickets and sure enough, they had the right seats.
Then I had a horrible thought. “What movie is this?”
“Wuthering Heights,” they said.
Good God. We hobbled out and had to ask a guy behind the concessions stand, where our movie was. “Theater 6,” he said, pointing to a different part of our ticket. Why don’t these complexes just post outside each theater what’s playing? When did that become a state secret? By now I figured we’d be in time for the closing credits.
And of course, Theater 6 was in the far reaches of this huge complex. All this time, as I’m hurrying, carrying Randy’s giant coke, sticky cold liquid is leaking all over my hand.
We finally made it to Theater 6, walked in, and found a sea of gray hair. “Yep, this is the McCartney movie,” I said to Randy.
The movie had already started so we crept to our seats. However, I must have sat down a little too eagerly, since more Coke sloshed down my top and into my pants. Somehow it seemed a fitting ending to this evening’s cinematic journey.
The good news? We had only missed a few minutes and the film was great. I thought I couldn’t love sweet, good-natured Paul McCartney more but was proven wrong. I also forgot how the songs of “Wings” had filled my adolescence, each one invoking a different memory. Except for the woman next to Randy who felt the need to sing, hum, and scat her way through each musical note of the movie, the evening turned out perfect.
And next time? I’ll pay attention to exit signs.
Have you had an interesting experience out with your spouse recently? Comments are always welcome. If you’d like to receive your posts by email, just press here.
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