neil gaiman would love this
I would say that this is exactly the sort of thing that would only ever happen to me, except that there were five other people with me at the time. Just when I find myself looping through a particular bad spot of disliking the general texture of my life, I am reminded why it is awesome -- the lesson was meant to be "my friends are made of shiny, shiny win", but it is knit over with a heavy dose of "really hilariously, marvellously surreal things seem to happen to me a lot" (and then I realise that people who are not me would probably consider the following adventure extremely irritating and disheartening, so I am not sure why I was blessed with the good humour to see it as a bizarre sort of boon).
Jonathan has been Mysterious recently, which culminated today in me being spirited away, and a lot of other people, some of whom are very smug young children not related to me, were very Knowing about it. I am really quite surprised that he never once twirled his moustache (Jonathan, I mean, not the Young Child). Shame on you, Jonathan! But I digress, and am skipping over bits of the story I might have drawn out more but am no longer interested in doing (Mum leaves for errands! the house goes mad! Leandra removes her diaper and gets excrement everywhere!). Anyway, Jonathan and I went to get a hasty bite to eat, which ended up being at Luigi's down the street, as we had very little time (there are other people involved!, I was told, and they've got schedules too!), and so what we had for dinner was the free bread and some mozzarella sticks, which were very good, and had much merry conversation, and Jonathan checked with his associates a lot. Hmph.
And then Meholicks came to fetch us and we climbed into the lumbering great van and set off for places unknown, although it was suggested that I might be getting thrown off a bridge. But it was a car-ride! With my favourite people! Except those of whom have departed our fair company for other shores (sadface). And to the darkest jungle! Or Clarion, as it turned out, where there is a cinema, and what was playing thereat that wasn't playing at our paltry excuse for a cinema was Coraline, and I was very happy and thrilled and delighted and very glad I put on my cameo brooch before going out.
The first half of Coraline, I can happily attest, is magnificent and funny and deliciously detailed and full of things that seem particularly designed to ensnare me in particular. And stop-motion animation! And details! Oh lovely lovely sets and costumes and bits and pieces and the fact that Coraline's fingernails are painted makes me ridiculously happy, for some reason. And the score! The score! It's magnificent, is what it is. I was quite enraptured.
The Other Mother has just asked Coraline if she wouldn't love to stay here forever, when -- all of a sudden! -- someone shouts something. Not in the film. In our cinema. We all bristled, I think -- someone's being loud! Shut him up, we're trying to watch! Except what he was shouting was this: "EVERYBODY EVACUATE!" And: "YOU HAVE TO LEAVE IMMEDIATELY." Why? Well, because, "THE BATHROOM IS ON FIRE."
Somewhat perturbed, and, at least on my part, pushing back severe disbelief, we fumbled for coats and things and made our slow way out. "Wait, the bathrooms are on fire? Really? No, really? But... but... the film... the bathrooms are on fire?"
There was actually a vague scent of Something Burning by the time we pushed out into the lobby, though more rubbery than smoky, and, still not entirely knowing what we were doing nor why, we wandered into the main area of the mall (it's a cinema-inside-a-mall), which, as it was late at night, was fairly deserted, except for a few wayward shoppers craning their necks and saying things like, "the bathroom is on fire? Really?"
And then we laughed. Very, very, very hard.
On my part, at least, I find the entire situation completely hilarious and surreal and am not really irritated by it at all, though I want to see the rest of the film terribly. I am very glad that I feel this way, because it makes things more convenient and comfortable. I think the rest of us had much the same reaction -- Sarah and Jonathan were Twittering it -- we couldn't stop laughing! It was so surreal! And so anticlimactic! Really, the bathroom caught fire? The bathroom? Not the seats in back of us or the projector or one of the other theatres or -- most dramatically of all -- the screen, melting in on itself while we all stare at it blankly and mutter things like, "that was certainly a spectacular effect", and "...how very... existentialist", until someone says, "is anyone else terribly hot and can't breathe?"
(Also, Spike and Angel were totally there. And arguing over who got to save everybody until someone else did the saving for them. Except that Spike was rather more than a little inebriated and apparently trying to bite people. "Spike! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THAT POOR WOMAN?!" "Saving her, you great ponce!" "...With your mouth?")
And then the cinema gave us Emergency Tickets so that we can come again -- they had a whole great roll of them on hand, all ready, which does not bode well for their record of having people finish films the first time they go. And we went home, and some of us (namely me) would suddenly burst out laughing and shaking their heads: "The bathroom! Is on fire!" (Also, it may have been trolls. They can't tell us the bathroom's full of barely contained trolls! No-one would believe them!) And: I think that Neil Gaiman would be deeply amused by today's antics.
My life, it is so surreal.
Jonathan has been Mysterious recently, which culminated today in me being spirited away, and a lot of other people, some of whom are very smug young children not related to me, were very Knowing about it. I am really quite surprised that he never once twirled his moustache (Jonathan, I mean, not the Young Child). Shame on you, Jonathan! But I digress, and am skipping over bits of the story I might have drawn out more but am no longer interested in doing (Mum leaves for errands! the house goes mad! Leandra removes her diaper and gets excrement everywhere!). Anyway, Jonathan and I went to get a hasty bite to eat, which ended up being at Luigi's down the street, as we had very little time (there are other people involved!, I was told, and they've got schedules too!), and so what we had for dinner was the free bread and some mozzarella sticks, which were very good, and had much merry conversation, and Jonathan checked with his associates a lot. Hmph.
And then Meholicks came to fetch us and we climbed into the lumbering great van and set off for places unknown, although it was suggested that I might be getting thrown off a bridge. But it was a car-ride! With my favourite people! Except those of whom have departed our fair company for other shores (sadface). And to the darkest jungle! Or Clarion, as it turned out, where there is a cinema, and what was playing thereat that wasn't playing at our paltry excuse for a cinema was Coraline, and I was very happy and thrilled and delighted and very glad I put on my cameo brooch before going out.
The first half of Coraline, I can happily attest, is magnificent and funny and deliciously detailed and full of things that seem particularly designed to ensnare me in particular. And stop-motion animation! And details! Oh lovely lovely sets and costumes and bits and pieces and the fact that Coraline's fingernails are painted makes me ridiculously happy, for some reason. And the score! The score! It's magnificent, is what it is. I was quite enraptured.
The Other Mother has just asked Coraline if she wouldn't love to stay here forever, when -- all of a sudden! -- someone shouts something. Not in the film. In our cinema. We all bristled, I think -- someone's being loud! Shut him up, we're trying to watch! Except what he was shouting was this: "EVERYBODY EVACUATE!" And: "YOU HAVE TO LEAVE IMMEDIATELY." Why? Well, because, "THE BATHROOM IS ON FIRE."
Somewhat perturbed, and, at least on my part, pushing back severe disbelief, we fumbled for coats and things and made our slow way out. "Wait, the bathrooms are on fire? Really? No, really? But... but... the film... the bathrooms are on fire?"
There was actually a vague scent of Something Burning by the time we pushed out into the lobby, though more rubbery than smoky, and, still not entirely knowing what we were doing nor why, we wandered into the main area of the mall (it's a cinema-inside-a-mall), which, as it was late at night, was fairly deserted, except for a few wayward shoppers craning their necks and saying things like, "the bathroom is on fire? Really?"
And then we laughed. Very, very, very hard.
On my part, at least, I find the entire situation completely hilarious and surreal and am not really irritated by it at all, though I want to see the rest of the film terribly. I am very glad that I feel this way, because it makes things more convenient and comfortable. I think the rest of us had much the same reaction -- Sarah and Jonathan were Twittering it -- we couldn't stop laughing! It was so surreal! And so anticlimactic! Really, the bathroom caught fire? The bathroom? Not the seats in back of us or the projector or one of the other theatres or -- most dramatically of all -- the screen, melting in on itself while we all stare at it blankly and mutter things like, "that was certainly a spectacular effect", and "...how very... existentialist", until someone says, "is anyone else terribly hot and can't breathe?"
(Also, Spike and Angel were totally there. And arguing over who got to save everybody until someone else did the saving for them. Except that Spike was rather more than a little inebriated and apparently trying to bite people. "Spike! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THAT POOR WOMAN?!" "Saving her, you great ponce!" "...With your mouth?")
And then the cinema gave us Emergency Tickets so that we can come again -- they had a whole great roll of them on hand, all ready, which does not bode well for their record of having people finish films the first time they go. And we went home, and some of us (namely me) would suddenly burst out laughing and shaking their heads: "The bathroom! Is on fire!" (Also, it may have been trolls. They can't tell us the bathroom's full of barely contained trolls! No-one would believe them!) And: I think that Neil Gaiman would be deeply amused by today's antics.
My life, it is so surreal.