This morning, my mother came into my room at about 8:30 a.m. This being a Saturday, I was fast asleep. She said she and a friend were going to see Lord of the Rings this afternoon at the nearest movie theater (which is in the next town over, Crowley) and wanted to know if I wanted to come. I said okay; she said she was planning to show up an hour early at the theater and camp out for tickets.

As I said, I was essentially still asleep, but I was conscious enough to think: “Huh? Camping out for movie tickets for a matinee in Crowley? Crowley, city of maybe 13,000 people? That little four-screen movie theater, which probably didn’t sell out a single screen for Titanic or Harry Potter or Star Wars?” I don’t there’s ever been an hour-long line for anything in Crowley — not for boudin at the Rice Festival, not for diplomas at Crowley High graduation, and certainly not for a movie.

I somehow through the haze negotiated her down to showing up at 1:30 for a 2:00 show. Of course, we were the first people there and looked pretty damned silly standing in our little three-person line waiting for the ticket window to open. Only 12 or 15 people showed up for the movie at all. I’d say I told you so, but I’m above that, of course. (So I just blog it instead.)

22 December 2001

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