Save your stub (Human Pursuits 29/10/21)
On missing, and eventually making, a Friday night showing of Dune
VANCOUVER – I wondered, as we walked to the theatre, whether I had made a mistake.
It was Friday night and Leah and I were leaving Apollonia, near Granville Island, to catch the 9:45 showing of Dune. Despite being seated about a half hour after our reservation, the night’s service carried an Olympic sense of urgency, fuelled by B.C.’s on-going labour shortage. White-shirted waiters worked the room, relaying plates of warm chicken souvlaki, rich moussaka and sizzling saganaki from the kitchen to the front of house, dodging the impractical plexiglass dividers design to keep patrons apart, delicately dropping dishes for the dionysian ritual that followed. Satiated and surprisingly ahead of schedule, we had settled the bill and started walking up Fir Street towards Fifth Avenue Cinemas. Our first time at the movies in about a year.
Earlier in the day, I had noticed a couple emails from Cineplex thanking me for purchasing the movie tickets, but also asking me to rate my experience at the theatre. “That’s strange” I thought to myself smugly, “Why would they want me to review something I haven’t experienced yet?” If only I could’ve predicted what would happen!
As we discovered when we arrived at the theatre, I had actually purchased tickets for the 9:45 showing the night before. In fact, there wasn’t even a 9:45 showing that night. The ticket taker, who was understandably confused as I tried (and failed) to explain my error, was kind enough to direct us to the front counter, where he said we might be able to get a refund. That seemed like the best possible outcome, given the big board showed Dune was sold out for the rest of the evening. As we lingered awkwardly by the counter, we debated hauling ass downtown to another theatre, free from the baggage of my embarrassing blunders. But something told me to stick with it.
A few moments later we were faced with the ticket taker and his supervisor, to whom I offered the perfunctory explanation of why we didn’t have seats. “I don’t normally do things like this” I lied, hoping he might take sympathy on our situation. He stared blankly at me and then the screen. Ticket holding patrons breezed by us, laughing, abundant. “You can sit in the back row for the 10 o’clock,” he offered.
For the second time that day, I was confused. What happened to our refund? “That’s great,” said Leah. “Great he said,” scrawling the row and seat information on a blank receipt. “Enjoy your show.”
As we stood in the ambient glow of the concession stand for the first time in over a year, Leah and I laughed at my dumb luck. Only I’m not sure that’s what it was. Maybe it was compassionate capitalism, or maybe it was the fact that I’m a Cineplex Scene Member. Either way our night was salvaged by two guys who could’ve just as easily told us their hands were tied. Coming out of B.C.’s brutal fourth wave COVID winter, movie theatres were, without question, the one social setting I missed most. While my ability to enjoy Zendaya’s perfectly exfoliated visage on the big screen was compromised by some confused, drunk moms four rows down, their actions reminded me that movie magic comes in a variety of forms. It feels good to be back.
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