Recently we, Fang and I, have seen a few movies. We’re not big moviegoers. Sure, we talk about going to the movies a great deal. But then, and mostly because we have to put on pants and, often in this weather, boots, we just don’t go. Pants, as anyone who wears them regularly can tell you, require both zippering and buttoning, boots need lacing. On the weekends, who wants to be bothered with all that dressing? Not us, that’s who.
There are also considerations regarding driving—and parking. Do we want to go to the closest theater, which is located in one of the biggest malls in the country, and have to deal with the parking? Or, should we drive a greater distance to the theater with more ample and convenient parking? What about the second-run theater? No. You have to parallel park on the STREET there! On a Saturday! Sometimes it’s all too much.
Don’t even get me started on the whole concession thing. I like my popcorn with butter. Fang does not. Sometimes Fang does not even want popcorn. I consider that heresy. I like diet soda. Fang does not. We can’t share. It adds up, the snacking does. And, we’re cheap. Twenty-two bucks just to get in to see the movie on top of the cost of the food. That’s not nothing.
These are real concerns for the pathologically cheap and lazy. If by some miracle we have managed to don appropriate attire, there are still other obstacles. There is always an excuse not to spend money, not to leave the house.
So, what’s changed? Well, a few things. First, there’s Facebook. Everyone and their brother is always talking about the latest Superhero movie or some groundbreaking indie that you HAVE to see. Neither Fang nor I is immune to peer pressure, even at our advanced ages.
Second, we have become extremely out of touch with pop culture. We have a twenty-year-old. This, for those of you unfamiliar with these creatures, is an age group that is extremely in touch with pop culture. She is no different, our dear, sweet Fangette. As Fang and I are not about to take to Snapchat or to embrace hip-hop, we chose to seek common ground through other forms of entertainment. Seeing the same movies, discussing them with her, is our way “in” to at least a small part of her world. That’s worth leaving the house for.
Third, when there are no baseball games to watch, Fang and I tend to go our separate ways after dinner. We don’t watch many of the same television shows. He enjoys house flippers and procedural dramas. I am more of a Masterpiece Theatre person. We felt like we weren’t taking full advantage of the time we have to spend together. Simply going to the grocery store as a team wasn’t cutting it.
So, in the spirit of togetherness, we agreed to get our asses out of the house on Saturdays and do something more meaningful than weighing our paper towels options or kvetching about the nerve of some companies to only give you TEN K-cups instead of TWELVE in a box! Fang, for the record, is NOT a fan of THAT!
If you were required, by law, to get a tattoo of the sentence you utter most often, Fang’s would read: “You gotta watch these companies like a hawk, I tell ya!” Mine would be somewhat saucier.
The fact that Fang notices such a thing and that it creams his corn is, for those of us who know him, extremely out of character. Not because he isn’t frugal, he is. No, it’s more because he has a tendency to be good-natured. He’s a shrug your shoulders and move on kind of fellow. He doesn’t get worked up.
Outside of watching baseball, my husband’s favorite pastime would be napping. If he can work in a Saturday afternoon nap, he has “won” the weekend. If he manages to nap AND watch baseball, it is his equivalent to winning the lottery.
I have to tell you that I was a little surprised when he agreed to embrace my togetherness scheme, to give up his Saturday afternoon nap and join me at the movies. Until, that is, he slipped up, which put me on to his ingenious master plan.
I don’t know how I missed it. The signs were there. I just wasn’t paying attention.
The fact that he insisted on going to a certain movie theater should have been my first clue. Why? Because this is the movie theater with the reclining seats. Reclining seats are conducive to movie-watching, I’ll give you that. But this theater has a host of problems.
The seats are the only thing that make this theater palatable. It’s kind of dingy. The concession stand gives me pause due to the general unkemptness of the lobby. The clientele is slightly trashy; every time we go there we witness some type of altercation, either between patrons or between patrons and staff. You have to basically cross a highway to get from the parking lot. There is nowhere close by to grab a bite to eat.
Still, he kept insisting that we go there. “Let’s go there, hon. I like the seats.” Yeah. He likes the seats. Not because they make movie-watching more enjoyable, but because they make napping easier!
I caught on to the fact that he was napping during a recent showing of “La La Land”. To be fair, I, myself, may have closed my eyes once or twice during that movie, but my husband was out cold and full-on snoring. Loudly. I had to nudge him. And pinch his nose. At least these activities kept me awake.
I had to admit that I admired his ability to fall fast asleep in a crowded movie theater. I had to admit that the movie, despite the hoopla surrounding it, was not as entertaining as I would have liked it to be. I had to give him points for trying and kudos for wanting to hang out with me.
Now I no longer ask him if he wants to go to a movie. Instead, I laughingly inquire whether or not he would like to enjoy an “Eleven-dollar Nap”? He can’t get dressed fast enough. Its a win-win for both of us!