from 12/5: Night out.
In August, D and I have an afternoon movie date. We're in Falmouth on Cape Cod and we're running late.
Over the last 19 months, we have a total of five dates, and only on one of those dates do we go out to see a movie.
We need to improve our numbers here, seriously.
Julie and Julia starts in 30 minutes. We say goodbye to L and race to get there on time.
Our directions are missing so we navigate from half forgotten turns and landmarks. We stop at a country store. A guy stands outside the store. He is unshaven and wears a large black overcoat. In his right hand, he clutches a brown paper sack.
"Oh, you missed your turn," he says, "take a left outta the parking lot and it's straight off the highway about 5 miles down the road. It's on the left. You can't miss it."
The trailers start. We stand in line behind five women who decide to see a later show and want a refund. There is only one attendant. The guy in front of us jokes that we're all going to miss the movies by the time these ladies make up their minds.
The film rolls for 10 minutes before we find some of the last seats in the front row. Our necks crane back. D slips his hand around mine. For the next two hours, we are alone in a crowd of strangers.
I can't think of another place I'd rather be.