Wednesday, May. 27, 2009

Asian heritage event brings people together - unlike movie theater (w/video)

You know what's not cool, movie goers? When the theater is empty and you sit behind the only person in the room. That deserves a kick in the shin. Maybe even a whip to the back of the head with a radio antenna.

That happened to me opening night at Terminator Salvation. On the rare occasion that I go to the movies, I decided "Hey, why not? It'll be fun!"

The midnight showing was playing in four theaters, meaning if we played our cards right, the correct theater would be empty. About 20 minutes before show time, we sat in the middle row right in front of the metal bars. The place was desolate except for one man in the back row.

Almost immediately after, a group of seven guys about my age come in and sat directly behind us.

"You're going to sit there?" one of them said. "Hell yeah," another responded.

I threw up my hands and gave Mr. Big the WTF?-look. I didn't say anything to them since others started trickling in. But it didn't end there.

Throughout the movie this foul stench would creep up. I was familiar with this scent - someone was taking their shoes off... Someone behind me.

Now, Terminator is not a quiet movie. You could probably have a regular conversation and people wouldn't know because the explosions are so frequent. In between a car blowing up, there would be a moment of silence. I took those opportunities to say aloud "WHAT THE F--- IS THAT SMELL?!"

Needless to say, the smell would quickly go away, but it happened four other times. So if you're reading this, sweaty-foot-movie-goer, seriously... go see a podiatrist, wear flip-flops to air your feet out, use baby powder... cuz if we ever meet again in the theater, you can bet I'll be sitting next to you and you might get stabbed in the thigh...

On a brighter note, my mother and I attended an Asian Pacific American Heritage event put on by the Tri-Cities Chinese American Association. There was a violinist who played the theme to Butterfly Lovers, which was spectacular.

After the presentations, they had a station to get something written in Chinese calligraphy. Right next to it, there were traditional qipaos, or Chinese dresses. My mom goes "Ask if they're for sale!" I rolled my eyes. There were no tags on the garments, I pointed out.

My mom grabbed a lady and asked if they were in fact for sale. The woman shook her head, then said "No, but you can have these two if they fit." We stood there in disbelief. For real?

She took them off the hangers and handed them to us. Inside I squealed with delight. On top of my western wedding dress and my Korean hanbok, I will add a Chinese qipao for a total of three dress changes. I have yet to tell Mr. Big, but like any woman, I think the less he knows, the happier he'll be.