Shelly & Kathleen Go To The Movies

My girlfriend Kathleen and I are venturing out to the movies — a rare occasion since the c word. (The virus, not the body part.)

The parking alone at Century City Westfield Mall stresses me out right from the start. I take a pictures of the column near my car. And one of the Gelson’s market which is adjacent. This should be helpful later. I will find that it’s not.   

I’m early. I consider slipping into Bloomingdale’s. I could use a swimsuit for upcoming travels but decide not to as the mall is a maze and I’m not sure where the theatre is and it could take me a while to get there and I don’t want to keep Kathleen waiting.

Where am I going?

There’s no directory.

The music so loud. When did I start thinking things like that?

When I got old. 😞

I used to love coming to Century City. I wouldn’t have cared if I got lost. But to be fair, it HAS expanded and it wasn’t this loud. I don’t think. 😳 They want me to get lost. They think I’ll spend more money. But they don’t know me.

I find Kathleen. She’s walking out of H&M. She was hiding. We agree. It’s scary here. Disneyland. Even though it’s a beautiful LA day and gorgeous people abound. Millions of them. All young.

It takes some time to find the AMC. We go up an escalator. Around a corner. Down an escalator (probably the same one we just came up.) Around another corner. I swear there is not a directory in sight.

We’re here. How do we buy tickets? It’s a new world. Tap Tap Tap. Plus we have to choose seats. Which are the occupied seats — the grayed out ones or the blank ones? I can’t tell. I have seat dyslexia. But we manage to do it! Yay!

A young man points us in the direction of theater #11. We walk toward it but we get lost again. We’re back where he’s sitting. How is this happening? We are laughing very hard but he doesn’t notice. We’re over 40. Over 40 = invisible to young people. Or he has no sense of humor.

We must validate our parking in advance because there is a 0% chance we will remember later. I circle my ticket around the scanner. Nothing. Kathleen tries. Nothing. A young woman from behind the Popcorn Booth comes to our aid. She calls us both “My Queens.“ We love her instantly. She holds my ticket about a foot away from the scanner and … BEEP. Nowhere does it say to hold your ticket that far away. 😡

Would our daughters have figured it out? Probably. 😳😳

I want a small popcorn, but they only have two sizes. Huge and Huger. 😳😳😳 I buy Huge because I really want Popcorn.

We use the restroom. Where do I put my Huge Popcorn while I pee? I go over to the sink to wash my hands but the water doesn’t come out of the faucet. I move my hands this way and that. I wave at the faucet. I jump up and down. “Bathroom Choreography.” Kathleen can’t get the water to come out either.

A couple of young lovelies hold their hands under a faucet and magically water emerges. WT actually F? Somebody is behind the mirror purposely making us feel clueless. It’s cruel.

We can’t remember what theatre we’re in. I can’t find my ticket. I find my ticket. But look at it; would YOU be able to figure out what theatre we’re in? Don’t say “flip it over.” There’s nothing on the back.

We return to the girl who called us “My Queens” for more help.

There should really be some kind of Theater Concierge who meets you in front of the theater, takes your hand and walks you through the whole process. Tickets, parking validation, Popcorn, bathroom choreography and then escorts you to your seat. I would pay extra for that.

OK we’re going in now. Shhh.

Usually, I make a promise to myself not to start eating my Popcorn until the movie begins, but I can’t keep that promise because there are 30 minutes of ads and trailers and the smell of the “butter” on the Huge Popcorn is wafting up to my face and I simply can not wait any longer. It’s half as Huge by the time the movie starts.

Oh Hi! (That’s the name of the film). Kathleen’s daughter told us to see it. And why not? Sometimes you just want to go out instead of Netflix. Besides, I would do anything with Kathleen. We’ll have a good time even if the movie sucks. But the movie doesn’t suck. It’s good. I’m not gonna say any more about it except just go see it. It’s worth getting lost at a mall.

When it’s is over we make our way upstairs to Eataly. There are too many restaurants. Too many options. We look at three menus. We peruse the vibes. We make a decision. We approach a hostess stand. Even This is confusing.

I mean. The place is relatively empty. Do we really need a reservation? It’s like Priority vs ZONE 8. Ben Stiller at the boarding gate in Meet The Parents. In any event they seat us. No problem.

We can’t stop discussing the movie. We agree. We disagreed. That’s how you know a movie was good.

I tell Kath that that I’m excited cuz I’m going to see Cyndi Lauper at the Hollywood Bowl next week. And she says “Really, Shelly? I know that. You’re going with me! I got us the tickets.”

OMG.

I have to find my way back to my car.

I’m lost again.

I go into Sephora and ask the salesgirl if she knows where the Gelson’s Market is. She says she doesn’t. I step out of the store and get approached by a random human who asks if they can pray for me. I give her a look but maybe I should say, “Yes, please pray that I can find my car!”

I need a Xanax. I definitely need that Concierge.

The theatre validated my parking but all this extra time will cost me. I think about how much money they make from parking alone on a daily basis and it drives me crazy cuz THEY should pay ME to park.

Miraculously I find the Gelson’s. But it’s not as simple as getting to the general area and pressing your remote and listening for a beep. Which I do. But no beep. Because my car is on the OTHER side of Gelsons.

Sigh.

Of course I finally find it. And head home. With a smile.

Going out is so different now.

It’s all good.

It’s material.

Can’t wait to see Cyndi.

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