I saved some chick’s life tonight. Well, not really, but it isn’t my fault that she didn’t almost die. If she had, I would have been instrumental in saving her if she had ended up pulling through. But, it turns out, her life was never in any real danger. She just had a few too many margaritas with dinner.  Nonetheless, I leapt into action. Ended up having to throw my popcorn away too.

It’s not easy having to go all Bill Bixby. You know, roaming around the country solving people’s problems and losing my temper then moving on to the next town without much of a Thank You.

Here’ what happened:

I hiked 5 miles in Shenandoah National Park, then drove to the Wal-Mart parking lot in Luray, Va, crawled into the back of the Phantom Rambler and laid there groaning until 7 pm.

At 7 pm, I hustled over to Main St to the Luray multiplex to view The Martian. But, well, it’s not really a “multiplex” per se.  It’s like a really large house with big screen TVs in several rooms. As far as movie screens go they aren’t much.  But, if your buddy had one of these in his mancave, it would be somewhat impressive.

Each room has a different motif. I was in the, I dunno…Camelot Room, or something. (I inserted a pic, which is related, but doing this from my phone I think it is in the wrong spot…deal with it). This is the BIG theater. The Chinese Dragon Room has 39 seats. Camelot, almost 80.

At 7, they flip a switch, (no dimmers in Luray) the lights go out, the movie starts. No previews. They are all business.

At some point I should mention that, at 50 years of age, I am easily the youngest person in the group of 30 or so that have gathered to see the movie – except for the chick whose life I saved. And, her husband, of course. Everyone else was,hmm, a thousand years old or so. This factors in as the events unfold.

Anyhow, about 15 minutes into the movie, some young whipper snapper announces, fairly calmly I might add,
“Hey, could somebody gimme some help? Maybe call,like, 9-1-1. My wife isn’t doing so good.”

Then he starts nudging her and saying her name. It was Deb.

The rest of the audience, bless their hearts, thought it was part of the performance, I think.  And, since I am the only person of those assembled that can dial a cell phone under pressure, I leapt into action. But, since my carrier is T-Mobile, I am a long way from a service area.  So, I chug my aching ass into the lobby and alert a helpful patron. She calls emergency services.

The medics arrive and start running tests and reporting that each and every vital is in the normal range. Further questioning reveals the Margarita thing.

Once it is clear that Deb’s only affliction is that she is slightly inebriated and married to Chicken Little, the rest of the crowd starts to talk among themselves.  The general consensus seems to be that everyone got a bit flustered and now have forgotten what was happening in the movie. Someone offers that, if we could just rewind “the tape” 5 minutes, I’m sure we would all get back into it.

Problem: the guy running the theater, who could address all of his customers as “junior”, says that he doesn’t know how to rewind the movie. He can either restart it, or resume it. (They cut the film off while I was in the lobby.)

Almost everyone asks that he restart the movie. The lone exception is a great-great-grandmotherly type who says that she can’t sit through the movie from the beginning because of the “blood” scene.  And she makes a face like she is chewing hot tar when she says “blood”. She is squeamish.

Non-spoiler – Matt Damon had a cut. There was a little blood. No big.

Another patron argues that there wasn’t much blood and that she will be fine.

The lady argues that, no, she is really REALLY squeamish.  When she was young, she used to, and I shit you not, “faint at the sight of her own menses”

And, THAT is when I threw my popcorn away.