My Happy Place

The first time I stepped inside a movie theater I fell in love.   The sound of fresh popcorn popping in the lobby welcomes you along with the rich buttery aroma that seeps into your lungs and surrounds you like a hug.   I loved how the people in line are almost always in a good mood, knowing that they will soon have crunchy snacks to enjoy and cold drinks to sip, and just beyond the door lies escape from their mundane world.  I loved the careful balancing act of carrying a tub of popcorn and a large soda while simultaneously trying to hand the attendant my ticket.

Stepping into the dark theater and finding that perfect seat still makes me feel like a kid again.   I love being transported to new and distant places.  I love the craft of a well told story.   I love characters that come to life and change for the better throughout the run time of the film.   It is a hopeful place for me, and when I step outside afterward, into the bright light of the afternoon or the crisp cool of the evening, I always think I am entering a world that was better than the one I left just a few short hours before.  

I love movies. 

Saturday afternoon, Connie suggested that we go see a movie, and she didn’t have to twist my arm.   It was miserably hot, as it has been for most of the summer, so the cool, dark theater would be preferable to doing anything that involved going outside.  

The popcorn smelled the same, and the lines were nearly as cheery as usual (although slightly more subdued, since this was an art-house, limited engagement theater and most of the clientele was over-40).    We entered the theater and chose our seats just as the pre-show was winding down.   It was then that I realized that I would probably never enter a movie theater again without looking at the exit doors to make sure they were closed.  

Although I enjoyed the movie a great deal (“The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel,” which is now on Connie’s all time favorite list), the sanctity of the movie theater experience has been slightly disturbed for me.  I can no longer fully escape the outside world.   Lessons have been learned that will not be easily forgotten.  I’m sure I will not be the only one to take my eyes from the screen occasionally to check doors and glance around for any signs of strange activity.    It will become a part of our national consciousness, much like men approaching a cockpit door, or large trucks parked and abandoned in front of government buildings.  

It’s sad to think that my kids will grow up in a world where nothing is completely safe.   I don’t remember having to fear about home invasions or school shootings when I was a child.   I don’t recall every wondering if I would return home after going to church or a movie.   It’s a sad reality that makes up our life today and our kid’s tomorrows.   We have allowed our world to get out of hand.

I’m glad I “got back on the horse” and saw a movie so soon after the shooting.    I honestly believe that if you don’t live your life because you have a fear of dying, you’d just as well be dead.    I don’t want to lock myself in my house and never leave.   I don’t want to live in fear.   I don’t want that for my kids either.   I want them to see movies…and I want them to see the world.   Despite all the potential danger and the crazy people, it’s still a truly beautiful, magical place.