A cinematic miscasting
"As soon as she said she wouldn't sneak in a movie with me, I knew she wasn't the one."
"As soon as she said she wouldn't sneak in a movie with me, I knew she wasn't the one."
Have you ever snuck into a movie? I have. I love that adrenaline rush. Finding a movie that doesn't have an usher guarding the door, making a dash for the unguarded entrance, and then finding seats without attracting attention - I haven’t robbed a bank but this has gotta be close. As soon as I reached an age where my mother felt confident enough that I could look after my brother and myself, she let us go to the movies on our own. Our mother would give us ten dollars, a list of dos and don'ts, tell us that she loved us, drop us off at the second-run movie theater, and instruct us to give her a call when we were ready for her to pick us up. She would not hear from us for hours. My brother and I and whatever friends we met or made would watch movies, play arcades, make a sixty-four-ounce slurpy cup that lasted all day, and take advantage of the free AC. I didn't see a reason to go home.
At that time, a second-run theater would cost two dollars. This was around 1986, and the average movie price was four dollars. My ten-year-old self would not know how to comprehend the price of a movie being twenty dollars today. I barely understand why a movie costs so much at my current age. But back then, that ten dollars went a long way. The entire ten dollars didn't all go to the movie. We would pay for one movie and sneak into however many other movies we could get into. On average, we would see three. They weren’t assigning seats in 1986 - this was the golden age of sneaking into a movie. It was also a time when things at the concession stands didn't cost the same, if not more, than the movie. How can I enjoy a movie when a tub of popcorn and a large soda cost twenty-nine dollars? Good luck going on a date to the movies and getting out of there without spending at least seventy-five dollars. You can expect to pay a hundred if your date is up for sharing.
Occasionally, my brother, friends, and I would get caught. The embarrassment of getting escorted out would be the cost of sneaking into a movie. "Can I see your tickets, please?" With a flashlight flashing in your face, it feels and sounds like someone saying, "Can I see your license and registration?" The only difference is that I'll have a better chance of leaving the movie theater alive than I would from a traffic stop. But when you are ten, the embarrassment of getting caught is just as traumatizing as getting pulled over when you're older. But just as I set aside my fear and drive every day, knowing that there is a chance I may not return home alive, is how I approached sneaking into movies. I'll keep doing it until I can't do it anymore.
Even now, I will occasionally sneak into a movie. It's not as complicated as you would think. Even with the assigned seating, I can still see a movie every now and then. Going to the movies early in the morning is the way to go. At one point in time, you could see a movie before noon from anywhere between seven and nine dollars. I recently checked the cost of a movie before noon as I was writing this story, and it has jumped up to fourteen dollars here in Los Angeles. There is no incentive to go to the movies before noon if the movie is only three dollars cheaper than the other times. However, since the pandemic, fewer people are going to the movies. This means the ushers are on autopilot, bored, and most don't check to see if you have a ticket. I'm going to assume they are simply appreciative that someone is in the theater and convince themselves that a ticket was bought.
Sneaking into the movies is romantic. It reminds me of things characters from a John Hughes rom-com from the eighties would do. There is no greater feeling to me than watching a story about a couple rebelling against society to be with each other. There's also something about not having money but being determined to enjoy the person you love no matter what that I root for as well. If you can find someone who doesn't care about the risk because all they want to do is be with you, then that's something worth seeing how far you must go to have everything you want.
A few years ago, I went on a date with a woman. She wanted to see a bad movie. I knew it was bad. Hell, she probably knew it was bad too, but sometimes you’re willing to suffer through bad art in order to feel connected to another human being. But this time, the movie ended, and I was pissed. I used my money to watch a bad movie she picked, and I just couldn’t live with that injustice. I needed to make this right.
When I pitched the idea of sneaking into a better movie, I didn't think she would be down. When she repeated my suggestion back to me as though she had a hard time understanding how we were supposed to sneak into a movie, I could tell she had never spent an entire scorching summer day hiding out in a movie theater.
I tried to tell her that it's the same as when you go out to eat and you don't like your meal, they let you pick something else, or they refund you your money. How is taking matters into my own hands any different?
"Are you serious?" She said. "I'm so serious," I replied.
She comes back to me, "What if we get caught?"
"We'll get caught if we keep discussing getting caught."
"Have you done this before?" she asked. But the question was layered with curiosity and judgment.
"Yes, and I will be doing it again. With or without."
She told me to find us some seats and that she would join me after she used the restroom. I went inside to check out the lay of the land. The theater was damn near empty. However, I did want to give the room time to fill up a little more before I decided where I would sit. I stood in the hallway right before you walked into the theater. I played up the image of growing increasingly frustrated from waiting on the person I was with. After the second to last trailer played, I let out a loud exhale and made my move.. The key is to walk with confidence.
When I go to the movies, I want the first two seats of any row on either side. I hate sitting in the middle or anywhere near the middle. I simply refuse to put myself through having to say “Sorry. Excuse me” to fifteen people just to go the bathroom or get a snack or refill. I will let my bladder burst inside of me before I get up in the middle of the movie if I'm going to have to cross over more than two people. But I will sit in the middle of the theater before I sit in those batches of seats in front of the screen. Those seats that force you to lean your head back so far you end up staring at the ceiling just to see the entire movie screen. Those seats make me feel like I'm sitting in the cheapest seats on the cheapest Spirit flight.
On this rare occasion, there was an entire row that was empty, except for a couple that willingly sat in the middle. When I felt like there were no more people coming in, I went for the two end seats and waited for my date. When the last trailer ran, I started to notice that my date was taking an unusually long time to join me. I knew a text was coming “Had to go. Enjoy the movie.” But I continued to watch the entrance so I could get her attention when she came in. If she came in. When I saw her turn the corner and stare into the abyss of darkness to see if she could make out where I was sitting, I thought to myself, "She may be the one."
I stood up so she could see my hand. She sat down next to me, and put her hand out. She was holding a ticket. "You can pay me back later."
“For what?”
“For the ticket for this movie.”
"Why would I pay for something I have already successfully stolen?" I asked.
She said didn't feel comfortable sneaking into the movie. That she would rather pay to see the movie than steal it. She also thought that I would pay her back for the movie. I had no intentions of doing no such thing.
She bought the ticket for me as if she were saving me from a life in prison. Like she was my attorney who got me off on a technicality only she figured out. Instead of enjoying the movie, I sat there thinking of a compelling argument for why I didn't feel I should be responsible for paying her back. I had won. And she dragged me right back into a loss.
Even if the movie was good, I didn't enjoy it. I sat there trying to figure out how I was going to tell this Girl Scout that her behavior was a turn off for me. I'm aware that I chose to break up with a woman because she wouldn't sneak into a movie for me. But moments like this let you know who's your person. And if she was truly my person, she would have said "hell yeah, let's sneak into a movie."
I wish there was a song that I could have played in the car as I drove her back home that could have said everything I was feeling. Ryde or Die Bitch by The Lox, I felt, was a bit much. But I certainly would have loved a song that expressed how I was trying to create a John Hughes moment. We just listened to music on KCRW FM radio and I never saw her again.
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