Last Night's Sex

I bought our tickets early in the morning, left work before 5 p.m. and drive up to a completely packed parking lot. After circling for 10 minutes, boom, a beautiful space near the front of the aisle. I'm way early and feeling good about taking my responsibility as seat scout seriously. As I wait in my car for 6:30 to roll around, throngs of young women pass by. Most walk briskly, some run toward the movie theater.

I'm here for the Sex and the City movie premiere. I convinced my two girlfriends it's absolutely necessary to see it on Southern California's opening night and thus, became the seat scout by default. No complaints, it's worth it to me. So, while we're enjoying a night of girl talk with our friends Charlotte, Carrie, Samantha (my favorite) and Miranda, our boyfriends will have just as much fun watching sports and bumping chests together. Life is good.

At 6:30, the line forms for our 7:15 show. I leave my car and happily take my place, fourth in line. It's a literal fashion parade. Girls in sundresses and little sweaters sashay by, every hair in place (the Charlottes). Ladies in edgy outfits with big flower pins or long dangling necklaces prance along the line (the Carries). Women with plunging necklines and tight mini skirts or white Capri pants going commando walk their boobs past me (the Samanthas). Chicks in jeans and fitted cotton tops with flat ironed locks march purposely to the end of the line (the Mirandas).

My friends arrive and we play a fun game of "fake or real". The ratio's about 3:1, fake. The two movie goers behind us in line laugh once they catch on to our game. They each wear a hot pink boa around their neck:

#1: Oh my god. Oh MY GOD! This is so much fun.

#2: Yes! I totally feel like one of the girls tonight.

#1: It's gonna be great. It's gonna be fabu.

#2: I just hope Carrie and Big finally just get married already.

#1: I mean, hello? After all he's put her through?

#2: Ugh, that Big boy....hahaha!

I take great delight in pushing my more conservative girlfriend's chin up to close her slightly open mouth. "Those boys are wearing pink boas," she whispers.

Drugs are the Only Answer

I am escaping reality at the movies, thrilled to get in under $10 with the matinee price. Loads of children jump and bounce around their adults, waiting in line for “The Spiderwick Chronicles”, I presume. An odd sound rings out among the usual noise kids make. It is shrill and repetitive, like a high-pitched bark. Turning, I see a tall boy, early teens, standing at the end of my line with an older male teenager. They look similar enough to be brothers. Both are dark-haired with big brown eyes.

The older boy stands still, arms crossed, looking down. The younger one twitches, his head and right arm jerking sideways every few moments. Occasionally he jumps forward a little. The sounds he makes are loud and gathering attention. Each time he yelps and says, “RoooOOO!….bap, BAP!” a few more kids and adults glance back at him.

My line advances slowly. His noises continue and other conversations are falling silent. Some children stare wide-eyed and parents nudge their heads back around, away from him. I look back once more. His companion peers toward the parking lot as his brother jumps and barks.

A little girl and her mother wait behind me. They are white and both blond. The child’s long hair is tied in pigtails. The elastics have big red plastic cherries that shine bright in the sun. She's five or six years old. Clutching her mom’s skirt, she wraps around her and looks back at the boy. Her mother also glances back at each noise:

Daughter: Mom, why is he saying that?
Mom: I don’t know, Ashley.
Daughter: What is he saying?
Mom: Who knows. There’s something wrong with him.
Daughter: What’s wrong with him?
Mom: How do I know?
Daughter: But what happened to him?
Mom: (sighs) You know what? His mom probably took drugs and messed him up.
Daughter: (silent)
Mom: See? See what drugs do? Aren’t you thankful I didn’t do that?

It’s my turn to buy a ticket. After paying, I look back at the two boys once more. An older couple has joined them. The woman holds her back with one hand and pats the younger boy’s shoulder with the other. The man is giving the older boy some money. After a few moments, the adults turn to go. Each takes one of the younger boy’s hands and lead him away. He doesn’t go willingly. The older boy moves forward in line without looking up.

Mend Me

I'm standing in the ticket line for the movie, "Into the Wild", this afternoon. The line is about 20 deep and moving at a snail's pace. I glance left and right at my line neighbors. There are a good number of young children bouncing around their adults waiting along with me. There is laughing, little feet slapping cement as they run up and down the length of the lines. A little girl and her brother on my left are slightly ahead of me with their mother. They are white and quite well behaved. Both watch the other children frolic. The girl, about seven, has sandy blond hair in a ponytail with a purple glitter clip. She wears a light green smock with big purple flowers and purple leggings. She twirls her ponytail with her fingers. Her mother suddenly looks below the girl's upheld arm and sticks her finger through a hole in the dress seam:

Mom: Oh, honey, there's a hole.

Daughter: (gasps) Oh noooo! We just got this! I love this dress! Mom you have to fix it!

Mom: (examining the hole closer) Hhhmm. Maybe this was already here when we bought it.

Daughter: Mom! You have to fix it! I wanna wear this to school. Can you fix it? Mom?

Mom: Well don't worry. Yes, I can fix it.

Daughter: I can't wear stuff with holes! They'll make fun of me like the Mexican girl.

Mom: What girl?

Daughter: The girl who wears pants with holes. She's gross.

Mom: Honey she probably can't help that.

Daughter: Well her mom should fix the holes.

We stand next to each other now in our respective lines. The girl looks over at me and I am caught staring. Immediately she folds her arms and clenches the hole in the seam with a little fist. She looks at the ground until they reach the ticket window.

Too Fabulous

Okay, I admit it. I went to see Lindsay Lohan's new movie tonight, "I Know Who Killed Me". I'll spare my commentary and get down to what I heard. Two older teen girls sit down in front of us. Both are blond, long-haired and tight-jeaned. One is wearing big sunglasses in the theater. Both have big leather bags and one wears a black "Bebe" rhinestoned tank top of sorts.

Blond 1: This is gonna be so cool. I just know she's gonna be so good in it.

Blond 2: Oh I know. I'm so sick of all the bullshit they're saying about her in the news. So she has some drinks, who cares? She's frickin 21 years old. Ass bags! (?).

B1: (Laughs) Exactly! Everyone's just yanking her because she's too fabulous. She's so hot and such a good actress. They're just jealous.

B2: Yeah. It's not like she's a criminal or anything. Good thing "Entertainment Tonight's" not watching my every move! Can you imagine? "More under aged drinking tonight at the Wilson home. Mrs. Wilson arrested for buying the booze!"

She looks back, realizing others can hear. I'm looking straight at her. My cover's blown. The previews start, fade to black.