It was time for another roommate night on Saturday, and Zoe and I decided on the standard dinner and a movie. I’ve been trying to drag people to Mykanos for ages, finding this hidden little Greek joint on Polk Street a wonderfully under-rated treasure. Zoe was all for it, and we squeezed in the tiny restaurant and waited for a table. Over moussaka and lamb and dolmas and spanikopita and lots and lots of Greek wine, we laughed and analyzed and befriended Will the waiter. Suddenly, I looked at my watch.
“Zoe, our movie’s in fifteen minutes.” I panicked, as the incorrectly tallied bill arrived.
“Relax.” Zoe said as she took another sip of wine and threw an extra $20 on the table. “We’re playing it by ear.”
Oh, are we? Fuck that. I hate missing the previews. We booked it out of there and made it to the theater with barely enough time to pee. “Shit, Zo. We’re missing the previews!”
As we ran into the theater, we were shocked to discover it was packed. Apparently, everyone in San Francisco went to see Flightplan on Saturday night. In my youth, I’d be perfectly willing to sit in the front row, craning my neck and ruining my eyes and throwing popcorn at my friends. I’m 27. I don’t do that anymore. And I don’t think Zoe ever did that in the first place. We climbed the stairs, attempting not to distract from the coming attractions, as we discovered there were no pairs of seats available. Shit.
“Psst! Psst! We can scoot over!”
A charming, delightful and no doubt attractive woman and her date made room for us, and in a move that upset hundreds, Zoe and I shimmied all the way down the aisle as people moved their handbags, shifted their legs and rolled their eyes. I stepped on three toes, all the while, whispering, “I know. I know. I’d hate me too.”
We fell into our seats just as the opening credits began. I leaned over to Zoe, “Nice timing.”
“I know. And guess what? I brought snacks!”
With that, my beloved roommate pulled out a huge box of Whoppers and attempted to fit it within the cup holder on our shared armrest. The film began and soon, our neighbors in the theater forgot about their hatred of us and began to get engrossed in the movie, already creating a dramatic aura of suspense in the first few seconds. Delighted with our timing and thrilled to be so cozily stuffed in our seats, Zoe opened the box of Whoppers and took one, bending the box to fit within the confines of the cup holder.
With that, the entire box of candy flipped over, sending all but one lone Whopper cascading loudly down dozens of rows of stadium seats, reigniting the collective hatred of us and prompting exasperated sighs from everyone within earshot. Unfortunately, we were unable to stifle our laughter, finding this the most hilarious event imaginable, and maintained the giggles throughout the entire movie. Worse, we didn’t even get any Whoppers…