This week, in honor of our silver anniversary, my wife suggested that we go to a movie a day: silver screen, get it? Which is what we did. Monday through Friday, we picked a movie and went to a theater and sat down and watched without a pause button or phones ringing. We put ourselves at the wisdom and mercy of the projectionists and concessionaires. While I can't say that I enjoyed each and every one of the films we saw, I can say that I truly enjoyed the experience. It is part of our heritage, after all.
Way back when we went on our honeymoon, after we had returned to land from our cruise, and taken in a couple of days at Disney World, we had a day left in Orlando before the airplane would take us back to the rest of our lives together. It was on this day that I learned the very real danger of the phrase, "I dunno. What do you want to do?"
We were driving around Florida in our rental car, having crawled out of bed at an hour that seemed comfortable. After the flurry of activity of the past two weeks, we were still of a mind that said every day needed a port of call or designated fun. Finally, we decided on taking in a movie. We love movies. What we had callously overlooked was that we also love to eat, which we had not done since the night before. And now we found ourselves standing outside the Orlando Superfaplex, trying to decide on what movie and when.
Hypoglycemia set in.
We were no longer the happy go lucky newlyweds, soaked in bliss and marinated in our love for one another. We had become creatures with no civil thoughts for anyone else. This included our newly minted life partner. As the testiness grew, and tempers started to flare, it was my lovely wife who stalked off with the only rational thought: I must find food. Never one to let a human need get in the way of my unidirectional need for completion. We were going to a movie. We could get food at the concession stand. Where had she gone?
It was at this moment that if anyone had suggested that we simply part ways and find someone more reasonable with whom we could spend the rest of our lives, there might have been two takers. After much fussing and furrowed brows, we found each other and made our way back to the ticket counter. The yogurt my wife had found was having a calming effect on her, and I was ready with grim determination to get inside the theater before the previews were over. What did we see? So I Married An Ax Murderer.
We have seen a lot of movies since then. Some of them were great. Others not so much. But we have learned to try and time our meals prior to our movies. It just makes good sense.