My inner child is a pretty happy camper this month. Having convinced me it was time to retire – I swear she wrote that notice of retirement letter to my boss – she’s sleeping late and eating lots of treats and reading lots of fun books. And going to movies. Way more movies than has been the norm in my so-called adult life.
Day before yesterday my inner biker chick picked the flick: Wild Hogs. Certifiable Princess had recommended it, and we weren’t disappointed. It was a complete hoot, with a fun plot, lots of nice loud action, and so much eye candy of the male variety onscreen that it was easy to watch. Sweeet. The theater I saw it in – Colorado Cinemas’ Cherry Creek Stadium 8 – leaves much to be desired. Explanation below the fold.
“An Unreasonable Man” takes the story of a man usually associated with being an egomaniac, megalomaniac and even psychologically disturbed (as one man puts it) and creates a fascinating account of a man typically known just for rabblerousing two elections.
It was riveting and thought-provoking. I only hit the button to light up the dial of my Timex watch to check the time two or three times, which if you know me is not very often during a single play or movie.
As befits somebody with all these inner children, I’m of at least two minds about Nader’s presidential campaigns: the creep ensured the election of George W. Bush, but on the other hand both Gore in 2000 and Kerry in 2004 ran lousy campaigns. It’s not arguable that Nader’s legacy as a citizen activist is huge; he was responsible for so much consumer protection legislation that he literally changed our world – for the better.
Now, about the Cherry Creek Stadium 8 theater, one of the “Colorado Cinemas” chain. It’s located in the upscale Cherry Creek Shopping Center and only charges five bucks for its bargain matinées. So far so good. I paid my five bucks to see Wild Hogs, and went to the concession stand. I’d decided to take CP’s advice (see her review, linked above) to enjoy this flick with popcorn. First I realized that the theater does not have Diet Coke. Seriously, people, they have sold out to the Evil P**si Empire. Yeccchh.
But not to worry. I didn’t have to make any hard decisions about what, if anything, to get to drink with my popcorn. Because there was no one working behind the concession counter. Nary a soul. Here I was, actually determined to buy some of their obscenely over-priced snack food – now, there’s a consumer campaign for ya, Nader – and there was nobody there to sell it to me. I stood there for awhile and looked around the lobby. The place was quieter than our public library and certainly much less populated. Two teen female employees sat at a desk across the lobby chatting. Apparently dispensing food was not in their job description. After a stroll along the length of the concession stand, and back, I gave it up and enjoyed the movie without food or drink.
I was irritated because (a) the jerks sell no soft drink I would allow to pass my lips and (b) I really wanted popcorn. But I was also aware of the irony – being thwarted in my plan to purchase and consume grossly overpriced junk food.
The inner kid and I came home and slapped a bag of reduced-fat butter flavor Redenbacher into the microwave, drizzled melted butter over the fresh warm kernels and finished reading Linda Barnes‘ Deep Pockets.
All my inner children and I really like Carlotta Carlyle.