Movie time and Oldie McOldersonville...

On Saturday, Tally and I had a nice little outing to Palm Springs. We decided to see a movie, so I talked her into Slumdog Millionaire. I highly, highly recommend this. Maybe not "drop everything and go see it immediately", but "drop everything, take a 30-min nap, then go see it immediately". Nicely done, good story, cute little kids from India.

So, as we were waiting at the outdoor ticket counter, two old guys with thick Boston (I think) accents are going up to get their tickets for themselves and their wives (Dustin Little, grammar Ph.D., there's probably something incorrect there, but, oh well). The guy in front of us says "I'll take two tickets to Se-re-nah". The ticket lady, looking mildly confused says, "Do you mean The Reader (new movie with Kate Winslet)?" He goes, "Oh, I thought it was Se-re-nah". She explains again, that, no, it is The Reader. This goes on for a few seconds until I try to talk Tally to throwing me in front of the little golf-cart security vehicle driving by so I will hopefully knocked unconscious and not have to listen to any more of that. She mumbles something about calming down, and we go inside to load up on popcorn.

As I mentioned, I loved the movie. As the closing credits are starting, I start to get up, then realize that almost no one else is. Oh, there's a little song and dance number, Bollywood-style, along with some of the closing credits. OK, I sit down. When that's over, I attempt to get up and leave again, but still not much movement. I realize that this is because we are near the front, and the average age of those behind us (comprising about 80-100 people--the small theater was pretty full) is approximately 137. I sit down again. When we finally get to the lobby, it's "negotiate through the fairly-large crowd of people moving 0.01 mph" all over again.

Don't get me wrong--I like Palm Springs. There is a lot of stuff to do there when things get boring in Yucca Valley (which is often). There are fun things, too, like a water park, good restaurants, and 12 million artificial hips. And,...I realize that I'm going to be old someday, too, and will probably move pretty slowly. However, the combo of creaking joints, rampant plastic surgery, and 70+-year-old women dressing and wearing makeup as if they look like (and I think they really believe this) they are in their 40s was just too much on this day. But, being the warrior that I am, I'll regroup and do battle again another day.