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Among Friends (Vol. 4, No. 18)

Nancy and I don’t go to the movies much.  But last night I found myself in the local movieplex.  We went by early, picked up the passes and then returned half an hour before the previews rolled to secure decent seats.

As I settled into the rocking chair about halfway up in the stadium-style seating, I thought back on the other movies Nancy had steered me to.  A good number were love stories.  But not all.  I couldn’t think of a single one that I didn’t enjoy. 

As I watched the crowd start to filter into the theater, I realized that this one had a different spin to it.  Even with the love stories, you would see a lot of couples coming in.  Last night, there were packs of women coming in together, staking out large batteries of seats.

The young girls in front of us talked incessantly about different things in preparation for the movie.  Was this a good seat?  Will anyone in front of us block the screen?  How long was the movie?  How cold will the theater get?  (Evidently, there is some elaborate mathematical calculation that takes length of movie and theater temperature into consideration to determine the number of ladies’ room visits that will be necessary.)  Do we have enough tissue to get through the movie?

When a couple of the girls were dispatched to the concession stand to pick up all available napkins, I began to worry about the content of the movie.  From the signs around me, I was discovering that this was a major chick flick.

And the story, though not what you would call “action packed,” was well-woven and, yes, I’m not afraid to admit it, touching. Even though the local newspaper wasn’t favorable about the performances, I thought that the actors did a great job. 

As the picture progressed through happy times and sad times, we eased into the closing moments.  As expected, this was to be a sad ending.  Sniffles were emerging from all around us.  However, in the last ten minutes, the theater grew strangely silent.

I listened intently – more to my fellow movie-goers than to the screen.  Nothing.  Silence.  It was almost like everybody had stopped breathing.

And then the closing scene faded to black and credits began to roll.  Suddenly there was an outburst of sobbing.  Then practically the entire crowd bolted for the door.

Apparently, in addition to breathing, most of us had ignored the restroom calculation, thus creating a human wave toward the comfort stations.  Since there were only a few men in the crowd, I found myself back in the lobby pretty quickly and grabbed a spot near the ladies’ room to wait for Nancy.  I was standing in the midst of a great throng of young women who were waiting for friends.

One girl was sobbing uncontrollably.  I heard her companion ask, “Why are you crying now – after it’s over?”

The young lady blotted at her eyes with a concession-stand napkin and replied, “I was afraid to cry during the movie – I thought I’d miss something.”

Another friend chimed in, “I hated that movie.”  Mascara was flowing.  And then as they walked past me to the door, I heard her say, “Let’s come tomorrow for the matinee.”

Obviously, emotional upheaval is an exercise best practiced among friends.

Shine On!

copyright 2004 Joe L. Cope