Not Funny


Last night, quite late, my siblings and I (and assorted close acquaintances) invaded Flood Street theaters. We were all going to see Star Trek, and of the ten of us (a brief counting), only one hadn't already seen the film.

It's the cheap theater in town, and we don't often get together, so we were rather irreverent. Most of us chose seats on the front row, but we spread out enough to take up the first four rows. Naturally, sitting that far apart, we had to shout to be heard over the shocked silence of everyone else (all seven other people cowering in the back rows) who had come to bask in the glory of J.J.Abrams/Chris Pine/Gene Roddenberry.

After choosing seats, Judith immediately turned around and demanded loudly of Mother, "go get us some food." Mother, with her half-smile which means she's awake, paused, turned around, and walked back to the exit. I was appalled. And hopeful. Fortunately, she was just using the restroom, and not actually stooping to such subservience in public (as she does at home).

Stephen actually did purchase cinematic commestibles, forcing me to sit next to Michael so I could steal some at inappropriate moments during the biggest action scenes. It worked out alright, as the seat next to Michael was directly front and center. Unfortunately, it meant that to hear what Erin, Judith, and Stephen (my most amusing siblings) were saying, I had to ask Michael to repeat everything (he didn't), which I think irritated him. Kind of a bonus, really.

Miriam refused to join me up front, as she can't see the whole screen from so close. Making sure I was speaking loudly enough to be heard by the entire room, I claimed that her eyes were just too close together (images of Wallace and Gromit flashing in my brain). It was just further proof that I'm not as funny as I think I am.

We were terrible patrons. We chatted during the movie, laughed out loud, and fought over popcorn. I had a blast.

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