Get out of my damn way--I am the future!
Tonight Mike and I went to see "The Inside Man" at the AMC 21 River East. We bought the tickets online this afternoon, knowing that it would be a really popular movie and we wanted to make sure we could get in. We were very surprised when we walked out of the parking garage elevator and into the box office lobby, into what can only be termed a disaster.
They snaked the line to get up to the theaters around the entire effing lobby, so much so it was hard to tell where the line ended. I have never seen this theater so disorganized, and this is the place when LOTR Trilogy Day went off without a hitch, and Revenge of the Sith was managed so well I found it hard to believe that there were 3,000 people going into and leaving the the building at the same time. There must have been about 500 people milling around, trying to buy tickets, or waiting got get into the theaters, or waiting for friends. And they were all old. (And by "old" I mean baby boomer, not genuinely AARP-card-carrying elderly.) I'm used to seeing movies where the crowd is on average younger, where people are fast and impatient and for the love of God hurry up, but this crowd crept. It made me want to scream.
I told Mike to get into the line to get upstairs while I retrieved the tickets from the ABO (automated box office). I looked at the 100 people in line waiting to buy their tickets from a person and scoffed at them. "Fools!" I thought, "Still buying tickets from people. Haven't you heard of a little thing called the Internet?" Still chuckling to myself as the movie times sign flashed that the 7:00 showing was sold out, I hit "print tickets". Much to my surprise, the tickets that printed out read, "I'm sorry, but this showing is sold out. Go to the box office for more info." Whaaaaaa? I bought my tickets four hours ago, chuckos. And you're going to charge me the $19.50 for the tickets anyway?! There's no way I'm missing this movie because you bastards over sold. I ain't being bumped.
I walked over to Mike and showed him what were supposed to be the tickets, and he got out of line and we got into the box office line. It moved fast and when we were about twenty people from the front, I saw a manager and rushed over to him. He stared at me with an exhausted look and told us to just go up to theater twelve. Without asking why or how or whatever, we rushed back into the enter-the-theater line that took FOREVER. The girl who was taking tickets looked at ours and I verbally snotted that the manager said we could just go up. The manager was helping to take tickets at the front, and he waved us in. The poor girl looked like she was four seconds away from a nervous breakdown.
We ended up in the third row, so we were looking up the actors noses most of the movie. The movie was pretty good, and very well-made. Spike Lee can really put together one hell of a film. I felt that it had flashes of brilliance, but in and of itself was not a fantabulous film. It felt...thin. But still, definitely worth seeing. Go see it!
As we left the theater, we took the escalator down to the ground floor to pay for our parking. This guy walked up behind us and literally drunkenly slurred over his words, "So, tell me this. Who was the 'inside man'?"
Wait, what? You asked me what? Did you not just watch the movie? And did you booze through the movie? Did you bring your own booze to a movie? I can't believe...what? No really, what?
Mike explained the most literal answer to his question (the answer being Clive Owen, in the wall of the bank). I told Mike a few minutes later that I should have said, "You know what, you were. You were the inside man." If I would have said that, I clearly would have quickly scuttled away after. The guy might have genuinely been drunk and wanted to fight.
And then we got down to the automatic parking pay stations, where two different technologically impaired baby boomers stopped up the works. AAAAAAAUUUGH! Let ME pay for you. Here, let me do it! NO! Don't call for assistance! You assholes! There's four steps to use this machine, and they're stated quite clearly in fucking pictures on the machine itself that tell you what to do--just do them already! Are you fucking BLIND? I just want to pay and GO HOME!
Mike and I took the stairs to our car in the garage because there was no way we were waiting in that long line to get into an elevator. We're young, able-bodied, and impatient as all get out.
So to summarize, I am a giant, seething asshole to anyone over 50 or who is unable to deal with technology beyond a touchtone phone. I'll see you at the movies!
They snaked the line to get up to the theaters around the entire effing lobby, so much so it was hard to tell where the line ended. I have never seen this theater so disorganized, and this is the place when LOTR Trilogy Day went off without a hitch, and Revenge of the Sith was managed so well I found it hard to believe that there were 3,000 people going into and leaving the the building at the same time. There must have been about 500 people milling around, trying to buy tickets, or waiting got get into the theaters, or waiting for friends. And they were all old. (And by "old" I mean baby boomer, not genuinely AARP-card-carrying elderly.) I'm used to seeing movies where the crowd is on average younger, where people are fast and impatient and for the love of God hurry up, but this crowd crept. It made me want to scream.
I told Mike to get into the line to get upstairs while I retrieved the tickets from the ABO (automated box office). I looked at the 100 people in line waiting to buy their tickets from a person and scoffed at them. "Fools!" I thought, "Still buying tickets from people. Haven't you heard of a little thing called the Internet?" Still chuckling to myself as the movie times sign flashed that the 7:00 showing was sold out, I hit "print tickets". Much to my surprise, the tickets that printed out read, "I'm sorry, but this showing is sold out. Go to the box office for more info." Whaaaaaa? I bought my tickets four hours ago, chuckos. And you're going to charge me the $19.50 for the tickets anyway?! There's no way I'm missing this movie because you bastards over sold. I ain't being bumped.
I walked over to Mike and showed him what were supposed to be the tickets, and he got out of line and we got into the box office line. It moved fast and when we were about twenty people from the front, I saw a manager and rushed over to him. He stared at me with an exhausted look and told us to just go up to theater twelve. Without asking why or how or whatever, we rushed back into the enter-the-theater line that took FOREVER. The girl who was taking tickets looked at ours and I verbally snotted that the manager said we could just go up. The manager was helping to take tickets at the front, and he waved us in. The poor girl looked like she was four seconds away from a nervous breakdown.
We ended up in the third row, so we were looking up the actors noses most of the movie. The movie was pretty good, and very well-made. Spike Lee can really put together one hell of a film. I felt that it had flashes of brilliance, but in and of itself was not a fantabulous film. It felt...thin. But still, definitely worth seeing. Go see it!
As we left the theater, we took the escalator down to the ground floor to pay for our parking. This guy walked up behind us and literally drunkenly slurred over his words, "So, tell me this. Who was the 'inside man'?"
Wait, what? You asked me what? Did you not just watch the movie? And did you booze through the movie? Did you bring your own booze to a movie? I can't believe...what? No really, what?
Mike explained the most literal answer to his question (the answer being Clive Owen, in the wall of the bank). I told Mike a few minutes later that I should have said, "You know what, you were. You were the inside man." If I would have said that, I clearly would have quickly scuttled away after. The guy might have genuinely been drunk and wanted to fight.
And then we got down to the automatic parking pay stations, where two different technologically impaired baby boomers stopped up the works. AAAAAAAUUUGH! Let ME pay for you. Here, let me do it! NO! Don't call for assistance! You assholes! There's four steps to use this machine, and they're stated quite clearly in fucking pictures on the machine itself that tell you what to do--just do them already! Are you fucking BLIND? I just want to pay and GO HOME!
Mike and I took the stairs to our car in the garage because there was no way we were waiting in that long line to get into an elevator. We're young, able-bodied, and impatient as all get out.
So to summarize, I am a giant, seething asshole to anyone over 50 or who is unable to deal with technology beyond a touchtone phone. I'll see you at the movies!