There is no person on earth who enjoys going to the movies more than my Dad. He’ll go to all the good ones in the theater, then when he’s seen them all twice, he’ll choose something stupid like that Will Smith superhero movie and drag one of us along. Every single time I come home, we go to the movies. And every single time we are in line for treats, he says, “It’s truly amazing to me that a person will order nachos, popcorn, a hotdog and Dots…then at the end they always say…‘aaaand I’ll have a Diet Coke.’” And during the previews, he always always ALWAYS says, “We gotta see that one” when it’s either a.) a chick flick b.) a movie with Jennifer Garner or c.) a fantasy film.
Terrible Things happen in movie theaters. People pick their noses and wipe them under the seats, they have sex (I have witnessed it as well as heard some real live testimonies) and wasn’t there a story about somebody putting a needle in a seat that infected a person with AIDS?? My dad put a spit wad in my popcorn once and I ate it. A rather large 12-year-old girl from the hood threatened me when I told her to be quiet. JJ and I were late to a movie just last year so I ran up the steps, but those damn lights confuse your eyes and you lose track of where you are, so I fell. And split my shin open. But the best Terrible Thing ever that happened in a movie theater was witnessed by me only…
I’ll never forget the time when we were in Disneyland (We went to a movie everyday, even while in southern California in June. It was just me and Dad…Mom would have never allowed it) and we went to Anchorman. Dad was wearing his D-Land staples: camo cargo shorts, his old school Mickey Mouse tee, yellow Polo fanny pack (this truly exists--not a joke), and my personal favorite: disgustingly ugly leather Velcro sandals. We were sitting there laughing/peeing then my Dad starting getting slight dry heaves and asked me if I had been farting. I told him no, but he kept bugging me about it. I was like “DAD I DIDN’T FART SHUT UP” The horrible smell that only he could recognize kept haunting him. Finally, with horror, he realized what it was. He had his feet up on the seat in front of him….the smell was emanating from his revolting leather Velcro sandals. He was so grossed out by his own scent. But he couldn’t seem to part with the leather Velcro sandals right away that night, so he put them on our hotel balcony and wore his bright red Nike tennis shoes for the rest of the trip.
Don’t ever have sex in a movie theater OR wear Velcro.