Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Must Love Dogs (1Nov05)

We hit the Crazy Jackpot again this week. We strolled up to the ticket window -- well ahead of time -- just as a man walked up to the window next to us and said, "Four for Must Love Dogs." I looked over, and something about the man looked vaguely familiar... The baseball hat? No...and it wasn't his chosen outfit, either. He pretty much looked like any other respectable guy taking his wife and friends to the movies.

But wait -- the boots! The black vinyl platform boots with what must have been five-inch heel, demurely hidden beneath his khakis! The guy with the boots was back! The spectacle wasn't quite the same as the time in May (see The Aviator) -- when he paired them with jean shorts -- but there he was again.

I have to say I was relieved. At least I knew I wasn't just hallucinating or something last time. But, at the same time, I was perplexed. And disturbed. What the heck kind of place did I move to, where kindly old men who look like someone's grandpa prance around in black vinyl hooker boots?

Admittedly, Paul and I were quite giddy over spotting the guy with the boots. And he was going to the same movie as we were, too! Cheap Night at The Cheap Theater doesn't get much better than that! We practically skipped up to the ticket-ripper.

I have a new fascination with the ticket-ripper (even more than before), now that I've discovered that I know the mother of one of the fine young gentlemen (not once has it ever been a girl -- I wonder why not...) who ripped our tickets and directed us to our theater this summer. He's not working there anymore, but now I have even more respect for them, and I intend to be even friendlier to them than usual. This week's ticket-ripper's name was Ben. He did a fine job.

Ben was being guarded by a scowling little man in a suit and a security guard. Ben didn't look especially nervous, so I'm guessing that they weren't there out of suspicion toward him. Perhaps Ben is a member of royalty, slumming it at The Cheap Theater for kicks with his secret service guys. Or perhaps the two men were on the lookout for crazy old men in hooker boots. But we didn't stick around to find out.

Since I knew that Hooker Boot Guy was on his way, I was almost tempted to sit somewhere other than in our coveted back-row seats. But we went for it anyway. Perhaps it made me feel like I could spy on people under cover of my dark corner.

After we sat down, I was so excited about the whole evening that I went rummaging through my purse for a little notepad that I knew was buried down there somewhere. I scribbled down notes about men in boots and scowling guys in suits -- and a few about the girl in the middle of the theater who had dangled her bare feet over the seat in front of her, and who appeared to possess no inside voice whatsoever. But I was starting to worry about Hooker Boot Guy because he still hadn't made his appearance. Maybe his attempt to cover the boots with his khakis hadn't fooled the Scowling Suit Guy, and they'd taken him away... But then, there he came, shuffling behind his wife and friends, making that squeaky noise that vinyl boots make (yes, I do know from experience, thank you very much). I waited for the girl without the inside voice to say something about him in her loudest outdoor voice, but she didn't. She was, however, stunned enough to keep her mouth shut for about 10 seconds.

The group's arrival made Paul lament about having left his camera phone at home (though we still have no idea what to do with the pictures once they're in his camera anyway). Then we began to discuss why an old man would feel the need to wear hooker boots.

"Maybe he has to wear boots like that for some medical condition," Paul suggested. "Bad tendons or something." Paul, being a man, has no clue about high-heeled boots (and while we were sitting there, I told him that if he ever wanted to wear them, he'd have to get his own because he's not allowed to borrow mine). I know (again from experience) that wearing heels doesn't heal the tendons in your legs (just ask Sarah Jessica Parker). And besides, if an old man had to wear heels for a medical condition, don't you think he'd go with something a little more...subtle?

"You'd think if he wore them often, he'd be able to walk a little better in them," Paul observed. He was right -- the guy looked like a little girl trying to walk in her mother's heels. Perhaps he only wears them on special occasions -- like Cheap Night.

In our quest for answers, we also ruled out some sort of crazy mid-life crisis (too old) as well as insanity. After all, he sounded perfectly sane when he'd bought their tickets. That brought us back to the same conclusion we'd come to before.

"He must have lost a bet with the other guy," Paul decided. Obviously, this guy makes lots of bad bets -- because he's lost at least twice that we've seen.

After the Hooker Boot Excitement, I almost forgot that we'd come to see a movie -- because really, we'd already gotten our dollar's worth of entertainment for the evening. But as a bonus, we got to see a fun movie, too (review to come).

Once the movie was over, I slipped into CIA mode (I really think I missed my calling on that one), and I hung back for a bit. I had this overpowering urge to follow those four seemingly normal old people and eavesdrop on their conversation. But we were way in the back, and Hooker Boot Guy was way in the front -- and I hadn't brought my secret spy equipment. I couldn't manage it without being obvious (at least to Paul, who wondered why I was just hanging out in the back of the theater). But I'm determined to get to the bottom of this Cheap Theater Mystery. Someday, I'll figure out Hooker Boot Guy's story...


Post a Comment

<< Home