Now a pause for something decidedly less important....
Tuesday, when I logged onto Gawker, I was greeted with an AMAZING picture of a screaming child and the following brief article....
Children Flee Movie Theater in Terror After Madagascar 3 Accidentally Replaced with Paranormal Activity 4
Employees at the Cineworld in Nottingham claim a "technical error" caused Paranormal Activity 4 to be screened accidentally to a theater full of formerly happy-go-lucky kids who were there to watch the third Madagascar film.
"It opens on the most terrifying scene in the first film - where a body shoots full pelt towards the camera," said parent Natasha Lewis, whose eight-year-old son was in attendance. "It's enough to make grown men jump, so you can imagine the terror in these young faces."
Lewis said the 25 or so families in the the theater quickly grabbed their screaming children and headed for the door. "It was only about two minutes worth of the film but it was enough to scar them for life," she said.
A Cineworld spokesperson apologized to the families and said all theatergoers were given refunds as well as complimentary tickets." Families were also invited to attend a later showing of Madagascar 3 free of charge.
No word on financial assistance for years and years of therapy.
After I stopped bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ing from laughter I thought:
"Those kids will be fine."
"Nobody needs therapy."
"This will make for a great story for them to tell as they get older."
I had a very similar experience, and I turned out fine. Totally fine. I'm...(sniff) I mean I'm ok, right? (sob) Everybody's got some problems...
What happened to me, you might ask? The year was 1993. A fine year for film. It was the end of the school year, and as it was HOT AS BALLS where I grew up, the "end of year party" for my class was usually held at one of two places.
1.) The water park (swimming is refreshing!)
2.) The movie theatre (movies are air-conditioned!)
As there had been a kerfuffle last year at the water park, when a kid got the wind knocked out of him after a poor dive, it was off to the movies for us. A bunch of kids, the teacher, and a handful of parent chaperones piled into buses on our way to see....oh yes....The Sandlot.
Once they herded us into the theatre (and got us popcorn and whatnot....oh man, now I totally want some popcorn and a soda at my desk RIGHT NOW) we eventually stopped giggling and the lights went down. Dramatic music began! And the screen suddenly lit up with:
Thankfully, we had parents and teachers who read movie reviews in newspapers, so the minute the title card appeared on-screen, like bolts of lightning adults were running up the aisle and out of the theater to alert this manager that this WAS NOT OK!! It still took about five minutes for the movie to stop, and we didn't know what the fuss was about. Why would we want to watch a movie about crying? Crying's not a game. There's no crying in baseball. We came here for baseball, and a dog. And after what I'm sure were some choice words to manager from our teacher, we got it. But I'll remember how funny that was now in my adulthood. I'll remember it "foreeeeevvvveerrrrr." (Sandlot joke. It's funny. Trust me.)
