I went to the movies last week. The girl with the twitch that waits on me most afternoons actually asked me what I was going to see. Our usual interactions are “Would you like the extra large for 11 cents more?” or “Any M+M’s or Raisinetes with that?” I inevitably reply “No thanks.” I see her most every week. Long, dark hair. Very nerdy, like myself except she’s not trying as hard as I do. Her hat is always crooked and she has a notable twitch. I’m told that those kinds of slight facial ticks are related to one of several things. Tourettes. Abuse. Crashing a car through the window of a Denny’s at 4AM. You know.
Anyway, I feel strangely connected to her. She doesn’t really want to be working there. I don’t really want to go to the movies by myself all the time, but I do. I’m an addict. You could produce a movie about a piece of shit that speaks French and slays dragons while simultaneously being a debt collector and I’d go see it. Actually, I already saw that one. It’s called “Wedding Crashers”.
I’ve never talked with her, but I kinda consider her a friend. We interact privately. She’s quiet and seems nice. I’m quiet and don’t. But she threw a whole new step in our relationship the other day. I wasn’t ready for it. What was I going to see? Wait, you really want to know. I can tell. She’s made a breakthrough. I can tell she’s really reaching but I’m too much of a jaded prick to help her with it.
I was so used to her being one of those corporate employees. Where they make you say the same shit every time someone walks up to the counter. “Hello and welcome to Pride.” being one of my favorites. You can see these people programming themselves not only to say this ad nauseum but to keep themselves from biting off their own arm.
Does she like me too? Does she finally recognize me? Or has she been there long enough now that she’s starting to feel a little more comfortable? Could be a little of all those things. I can tell though, this is hard for her. To be socially gracious in general. Not because she isn’t kind. But because something in her doesn’t fire quite right when it comes to being comfortable and confident. I can completely relate.
“World Trade Center”
I wasn’t going to see that movie, so I don’t know why I even said it.
“Oh, it’s really good. I really liked it.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
I went into my movie 10 minutes early so I could listen to Phil Collins’ “Take me home”. For some reason that song sounds fucking amazing in a giant empty theater. Probably not the review that Phil would want, but it does. I was so disappointed in my movie girlfriend telling me that World Trade Center was “Really good.” Not because I’m being the leftist indie-rock judgmental asshole because I’ll gladly go see that movie. I thought about it actually. I thought that every 15 minutes I would jog out of the theater isle decorated with blue cloth walls and dim red lights and into the one playing Snakes On A Plane. Swapping out every 15 minutes. WTC. Snakes On A Plane. One to the other and so forth.
I think I was disappointed in her because I think she gave me a milquetoast response. She says that same thing to everyone, I thought. An extension of the sales pitch. I really thought we were going to the next level, and I’ll be honest. I was scared. But excited. You know what? I’m not just going to sit here and take this bullshit. We HAD something. I knew it would grow and I know deep down somewhere in her, she knew it too. I just can’t let this go. And I need some Twizzlers. I leave my seat with my half eaten nachos, large Coke and New Edition song (Mr. Telephone Man, for the record, sounds fucking amazing no matter what listening environment you’re in) and make a break for the stand. Nervously, I ponder how I’m going to do this. How can I approach her again? After what she’s done to me. There are two people in line in front of me. Two teenagers (the male hitting his girlfriend in the head with a wrapped straw) and some surfer/80’s looking kid. The new Indie Rock, I surmise. Read about it in SPIN. Basically, a threesome of douchewhistles. That would make a great band name. Anyway, “I’m just trying to pass your class, Mr. Hand” is finally done getting his blue Slurpee (a movie theater faux pas) and I’m there. Frozen. Smiling though. It’s hard to smile I’m thinking. It’s almost physical, the pain. She looks at me. Twitches. She always twitches. She’s smiling too. I wonder if she’s fighting it like I am.
“May I have some Twizzlers please?”
“Sure”
No apology. Nothing.
“You can’t see planes crashing into buildings without Twizzlers.”
Just like that, it came out. Shot like a bitter, sarcastic bullet. I’m such an asshole.
“That’s true!” she says, smiling.
She still didn’t get it. She’s just selling this place. We’re done. I can’t believe it’s over. I’m never going to the movies again. Well, until Tuesday.
