Memory Checkpoint: Inception

A sort of real update! Sort of.

I have decided (#ihavedecided for you hip kids on the Twitter) that I want to avoid saturating this blog with the deeper levels of my subconscious. The last blog had lots of that and while all of it was written terribly well, the actual content was of less interest to, oh, everyone but myself. AND YET one important aspect of the ol’ Vox Blog was being able to look back in time and remember what was going on in my head at certain points in my life. My pictures (when I start taking them again) certainly have a similar ability, but it’s not quite the same. (Hey as an aside, do I use parentheses too much, and, like, commas too?)

In order to retain the mind time travel skill and avoid being too overtly introspective, I’m going to make Memory Checkpoints. Short paragraph or so posts that describe things I’d like to remember one day when I forget.

Today I convinced my dad to see Inception with me. By convince I mean I harassed him sternly every moment of the week prior until he broke down and relented. He’s starting to develop an old-mannish attitude towards going to theaters to see the latest cinema so force was deemed necessary. I did it for his own good. Inception is a movie he had to see, and one you have to see in theaters. And at an IMAX theater. For $15 a ticket. Ear splitting sound and a titan sized screen don’t come cheap, apparently.

So dedicated to the cause was I that I went in to work a half hour early so I could leave a half hour early, so I could home in time to leave for the theater a half hour before the movie started. This meant I had to wake up early after staying up late reading a book, and even then I still managed to get a walk in that morning. Also with my dad. BUT THIS IS NOT THE POINT OF THE STORY.

We get to the theater five minutes before the movie starts. It’s Wednesday so I don’t expect the theater to be very busy. Even so I also did not expect the theater to be completely empty. COMPLETELY.  EMPTY. Dad and I walk into the massive theater to find an unsold house. I offer the required “Man, I hope we can find a seat!” quip. A black, twenty mile high, fifty billion mile wide screen looms before us. I use to be an usher so the silence of a dead theater is nothing new to me. But so much quiet in so much space that’s generally known for an in-your-face speaker setup? Bizarre.

The moment-the very moment- we sit down the black screen turns green telling us that the following preview is rated “probably OK” for all audiences. No peppy twenty minute advertisement reel pretending to be entertainment? Madness!

And so there was myself, my father, and a whole lot of nobody else with an obscenely expensive movie system all to ourselves. It was perfect.

And then about seven minutes into it a couple walked in and sat somewhere in the back. They were probably just making out so I still don’t think that counts.

Personally I think the top did stop.

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2 thoughts on “Memory Checkpoint: Inception

  1. Bean says:

    My experience has been that when I’ve had an entire theater to myself (oh, I don’t have a Dad here to coerce into going to movies with me) and then more people walk in, they always sit in my row or not just in my row, but a seat away in my row! Why do people do this? I fight the urge to say, “Dude, really? There are 100s of other seats in many different rows. Choose your seat again.” I have actually acted like I have a phone call, leave my seat to take the call, and then come back a minute later and choose the furthest seat away to fix the situation. But then that’s me.

    • I honestly don’t know why people feel the need to bunch up in theaters. Guys get trained early on to give each other space by the placement of urinals in bathrooms. Not sure why it doesn’t apply to theaters. Besides the lack of pee in theaters. Most theaters.

      I might be seeing Scott Pilgrim by myself again this week. If people get up in my space I’ll be sure to use the call maneuver.

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