I love going to the movies. And I mean theater movies. Not that I don’t like seeing movies at home, but it just isn’t the same, even with a sweet flat-screen. I live a three-minute drive away from an AMC Loews multiplex with an IMAX theater, so I’m never at a loss.
One thing I have to do when I go to the movies (and people who’ve gone with me know this) is buy popcorn. Movie popcorn is in a class by itself. That doesn’t necessarily make it the best kind, but for me it’s a movie-theater must-have nonetheless. I don’t remember the last time I went to a movie theater without buying myself a big ol’ bag-o’-corn.
Sometimes, however, the fates conspire against my popcorn jones. Last night, I went to see Burn After Reading with some friends (great movie…Coen Brothers rule!). My planning powers, however, took a powder when the date was agreed upon, because I’d forgotten that I had a dentist appointment in the afternoon for a cleaning. So a couple of hours before the movie, I sat in a chair for an hour or two while a very nice lady stabbed me repeatedly in the gums with a screaming spitting steel hook.
I arrived at the theater in a state of elevated soreness, facing the possibility of my first movie in gawd-knew-how-long without the capacity for consuming popcorn. I handed over my ticket, walked in, and…
Aw, hell no. Straight over to the counter, and order a large. Man up, fertheluvvamike.
(Yum. Ow. Yum. Ow.)