Running In The Rain
Who knew that sitting in a nice, dry car in a rainstorm, watching people flee from the parking lot, would be so entertaining?
My husband and I wanted to see a movie one evening. Through a strange series of events that involved a DVD return, a box of Cheerios, and some ink cartridges, we arrived about 45 minutes earlier than we had anticipated.
It was raining cats and dogs when we arrived. I believe there were a few raccoons and squirrels as well, but it was raining so hard it was difficult to identify the various plummeting mammals. Needless to say, we thought it best to stay in the car and wait for the deluge to dissipate.
However, there were many people who, while not really wanting to get wet, apparently didn’t want to miss the previews and mini-commercials that run for the first 20 minutes of their scheduled movie.
I had no idea that there were so many different ways to get from the car to the ticket booth. Everyone had a different idea.
We watched a man in a black t-shirt and a woman in a white tank top bolt from their car, grab each other’s hand in solidarity and run as if their life depended on it. However, at one point, they each chose a different side of a tree to run around and, as a result, had to disengage. The man apparently saw no need to wait around in the rain for his soaked and lagging partner as his legs ate up the remaining yards to the dry building. They were probably already married. If not, he was due for a “Dear John.”
There was the lady who emerged from her car with a giant golf umbrella big enough to cover a large bulldozer, but ran with it to the theatre anyway leaving her husband to run after her in the rain. Married as well, I think.
There were the two guys in wife-beater shirts who were too proud to run because it isn’t cool to run from anything. So they would be forced to sit, soaked to the skin, in an air-conditioned theatre for two hours and try not to shiver because… that’s not cool either.
There was a young lady who made all the motions of running except the one where you move your feet quickly. Her arms were pumping, her head thrust forward in anticipation of her eminent arrival at the doors, but her feet took small mincing steps. She looked like a Geisha girl in high gear. Good thing she wasn’t in a hurry.
Then came the cowboy, complete with a black Stetson hat and alligator boots. He galloped with long strides, as if he was still on his horse, and had trouble stopping when he reached the ticket booth. The brick wall eventually slowed his rain-slicked boots. Then he turned around looking for the bear that was clearly chasing him (apparently, one of the many mammals falling out of the sky). He then took off his hat, shook it and replaced it just like John Wayne. Who wears a Stetson to a movie theatre anyway?
After the cowboy entered the theatre, a rather rotund woman waddled from the theatre to her handicapped parking spot. She was carrying an X-large popcorn bucket and a tiny, little Tinker Bell umbrella that looked like she might have sat on it. Three or four spokes were bent downward and, as a result, 90% of her body was being hit by rain anyway. She might have been better off putting the popcorn bucket on her head.
A twenty-something guy bounded toward the doors until he lost his flip-flop and had to chase it down the raging river that the parking lot had now become. By the time he caught it, he was so wet and disgusted that he decided it wasn’t worth running any longer. He was already soaked. He held his flip-flops as he schlepped, bare-footed to the theatre.
When the rain finally subsided, my husband and I, wiping tears of laughter from our eyes, got out of the car and walked sedately to the theatre. We were, of course, very conscious of exactly how we walked. We were going to see a comedy, but it would be very difficult for the movie to top what we had already witnessed.