I was headed to the movies tonight with my friend Cheryl and missed my exit, which happens from time to time, especially when you’re me and you’re driving on Rte. 22 near the 33 interchange and the traffic just seems to lump together in the right hand lane and NO ONE FUCKING MOVES and they’re doing it just to spite me so I say Screw it and drive to the next exit. It took about the same amount of time to get to the theater that it would had I taken my original exit, but I still freaked out about it because I was worried about being late.
And then I realized I have this thing about being late to the movies. I hate it. I hate having to rush through buying a ticket and my popcorn and Sour Patch Kids. I hate walking into a theater when it’s dark and you can’t see. I hate missing a trailer. I hate having to pick a seat when the theater’s more than half full. I can feel people’s eyes on me, judging me for being late, or for making them squish their legs in so I can get by. Because I totally do that. If I’m seated in a darkened theater watching previews and munching on my popcorn and you have the audacity to walk in and disturb my preview-watching serenity? I will glare and judge and mock you silently. That is how I roll.
Anyway, I got to the theater, found a good parking spot (hallelujah!), Cheryl had Fandango’ed our tickets so we had no wait, there was hardly any line at the concessions, and our theater was the first one in the door. We did miss one trailer, but the sound wasn’t working during that one so it TOTALLY DOES NOT COUNT.
By the way, Julie and Julia? Two thumbs up. Meryl’s my girl.