Where I grew up, in the land of lakes, mosquitos, Norsemen remnants, and Crappies (Norse for “smelly fish”), Movie Theaters were outdoors. Built on former corn fields.
We would load the large trunk full of teens and one of us would drive the 60’s era
car-a-saurus into the theater. Trunks in those days, like in a Pontiac Catalina, were the size of a honeymoon suite. Many a scrawny, pimple-laden teen could be shoe-horned into the trunk and bounced around like a pinball after hitting foot-deep chuck holes as we drove down the dirt road to the monolithic movie structure.
We would park the car facing the screen and next to the cheap metal speaker that hung on your window like an A&W root beer tray. Then we would get out, roam the lot and socialize awkwardly throughout the entire movie. And if some unsuspecting couple were locked in a teen embrace in Dad’s Chevy Biscayne, our party of revelers would open the back door, crawl across the rear seat and exit the opposite door. Their parents should have thanked us for occupying the back seat, and putting a stop to increased surface population.
The ticket-taker always suspected grey-market movie-smuggling but never possessed a warrant to open the trunk. Even though the emitting laughter from the rear of the car was blamed on my eight-track tape player.
It was cheap movies, and cheaper fun. Truly a relic of a bygone era. There was four to five thousand Drive-in Movie Theaters back in the day. Today there are roughly four hundred.
They did and will remain the original “Big Screen.”
Well cheap movies ended when I entered the movie theater on the West end of town last night. Ten dollars for a movie. Fifteen dollars for one bag of stale popcorn and two plastic cups of soda pop. Would you like a movie with that popcorn? Orville Redenbacher must be a wealthy man. Next time I go to a movie I’m bringing a
ginormous sized man-purse. That’s right, the one with wheels and the extending handle. It holds five gallons of popcorn I bought at Sam’s Club and popped in my microwave. I’ll stick it under my shirt and look like the other 24% obese men in Nordiclandia.
Please pass the butter please.
Or, I’m going to scalp popcorn at the entrance of the theater like ticket scalper’s at a ‘Stones concert. “Heh man you wanna buy a bag of corn?” Forget the man-purse, I’ll have 30 gallon garbage bags full of it stuffed in my Pontiac Catalina’s trunk. People will flock to the trunk like to a UNICEF truck in Botswana.
The popcorn and drink cost more than the movie! If popcorn is worth that much maybe we should pay the actors and actresses in popcorn? Hollyweird needs a market correction anyway. Instead of paying an actor $20,000,00 per movie in de-valued American currency, we pay Jim Carrey with one ton of uncooked popcorn kernels and fill his car with a tank full of ethanol (corn-gas) so he can go to the Drive-In Movie Theater and watch Dumb and Dumber, biggie-sized.
Can I have a movie with that popcorn, or do I need to buy popcorn one night and come back another night to buy the movie. Kind of spread the debt-load out over time and space?