Early last week, T. mentions that several co-workers want to go see 300 on Wednesday or Thursday evening. I told him that I really had no desire to see the movie (true), but that he would be welcome to go hang out with the guys if he so wished. It wasn't long before T. convinced me to go (and honestly, if I could sit through some of the B-rate horror flicks I got dragged to in highschool . . . I can sit thorugh about anything), so I finally acquiesced. I'm not big on gore, and several folks had told me that 300 was obviously gory, so you can imagine how thrilled I was to learn the boys were insisting on watching the movie at Imax. For those who have never been to an Imax theatre - it is literally a 4-story tall movie screen. Spiderman was not the wisest of previews for such a venue . . . with all the twirling and upside-down-ness, I was vaguely motion sick by the time the movie began . . . but that comes later . . .
Thursday arrives, and what I assume is going to be a 7:00 p.m. movie (comfortably after work - yet early enough to get to bed at a decent hour) turns into a 9:15 p.m. movie . . . I do the math in my head, decide that if I stayed up until 11:00 working on my novel for NanoWriMo, then I can stay up to 11:00 once for my husband. We decide to dine at Dave & Busters to save some money (since theatre food is definitely not listed on "how to survive on $30 a day).
"Do you know where the Imax is?" I ask T., while polishing off my buffalo chicken wraps (mmmmmmm . . . buffalo chicken wraps). "No," T. says, "but I can call someone." He leaves the table to get directions, and comes back with a sheepish grin. "I . . . erm . . . had the time wrong," he says. "9:15 was at the regular theatre. The Imax starts at 10:15."
Gulp. Midnight.
We will be crossing the midnight barrier - which doesn't make much sense until you know me - and know that I literally turn into a pumpkin at 11:00 p.m. While everyone else pulled all-nighters in college, I had a nine-hour sleep cycle. I broke it once, staying up to assist a friend with a concussion, and I literally had blackouts the following day.
And Friday is a work day. And I'm a legal secretary.
Gulp. Midnight.
Sure. I can do midnight.
Really.
I reminded myself to keep chewing, and took a deep breath. "I guess I can always fall asleep on you," I told T.
Amazingly, the Imax turned out to be a great place, and the movie was far far better than my expectations. [SLIGHT SPOILER AHEAD . . . SKIP THIS PARAGRAPH IF YOU WANT TO KNOW NOTHING ABOUT THE MOVIE.] For anyone who does not know - 300 is based off of a historical battle in Greece - and um . . . the ship sinks. What I enjoyed most about the movie was how they didn't try and play the "maybe they live" game. They played the "we are going to die . . . so let us die as gloriously as we can" - which, really, is the point.
Enter 2:30 a.m. when I finally get to sleep.
I won't go into the train wreck that was Friday - but sufficie it to say - despite the fact that I arrived bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (having learned a trick with my sleep cycle that paid dividends in this case), I weathered a stressful day at work, only to realize I had a Wits End Comedy Club party that evening - and, as I was the host, it would be a little awkward if I ditched out.
On the other hand . . . laughter was exactly what I needed. The Grandma had A., it was 10:30 when I got home, and I was looking forward to sleeping in (and by "sleeping in" I mean 7:30 to 8:00 a.m. - A. has changed my perspective drastically on the definition of "sleeping in."
I woke to the sound of "Jesus, Take the Wheel" - my chosen cell phone ringtone. My eyes popped open. T. was not in bed. I glaned at the clock. It was 2:30 a.m.
&@*#
Needless to say, T. was on the phone. He hit a pothole (or other unidentified object) while getting on the freeway, and it blew out his left front tire.
Grumbling, I hauled out of bed and went to the rescue. When I arrived, I specifically asked if there was anything else he needed to clean out of the back. Exhausted, he just shook his head, threw a few possessions in my back seat, and climbed in. The next day, he borrowed my car to get to work.
The grandmas had a nail appointment, so they dropped A. off at about 9:00 a.m. Shortly thereafter, T. called with some disturbing news . . . he had left a few essential items (including his $5,000 CD collection) in the Vitara - and we needed to collect some of these personal effects before calling for a tow. And speaking of a tow . . . ever tried to get a tow when the car is in an entirely different location than the driver? YEESH! I can't tell you how many times I repeated "Do you want to know where I am? Or do you want to know where the vehicle is? Because I am about 5 miles away from the vehicle, but I have the key." And no car seat for A. And no vehicle or transportation to go meet the tow truck.
Wheeeeeeeeeee.
At least Easter was decent.
So, today we get the estimates on T.'s vehicle, which will be roughly $700-$1000 to fix, we have to order new rims, and the parts won't be in until Thursday or Friday. We also discovered there was apparently a plywood board with nails on the exit T. took - which explains how he blew out both the front and rear tire. Thank goodness we had a warranty on the tires themselves - it knocked $230 off the bill!
In conclusion - T. is now driving my brand new car (and I have threatened him with death if he blows out my tires . . . there IS a reason we put a warranty on the Vitara's tires), and I am hitching rides with the grandma and my car pool.
But the movie was good. Really good. In fact, it's the one happy memory I'm clinging to . . . and for anyone who has seen the movie, you'll realize how really twisted that actually is . . .
