Johnny Showtime: Little Old Ladies

 by JB

Today we address a scourge of the movies... and their salvation.

I am well aware that I go to motion pictures at honest-to-goodness movie theaters more than the average American. The average American leaves the home to attend the movies 1.4 times a year. (Who leaves the house, attends 40% of a film, and then comes home satisfied? No one.) I leave my home to attend a movie an average of 75 times a year. I am retired, after all, and anti-social. I have never been much of a sports fan. Various medical conditions keep me away from hiking, golf, and pickleball. After going out for breakfast, complaining about people who do not pick up after their dogs, and napping, what on earth is left to while away my time?

Lately, I have noticed a disturbing trend at my local cineplex, which I would like to briefly discuss today: free-roaming bands of little old ladies.

I usually spot them at matinees. Sometimes I see them at night. They are always ahead of me in the ticket line; they are never behind me. Although it is clear that the group often attend movies together, usually on "Five Dollar Tuesdays," they always painstaking purchase their tickets separately. (Marge, it seems, does not want to be beholden to Glenda because there was that time thirty-five years ago when the lottery jackpot first climbed to 90 million dollars and Glenda bought the tickets for everyone... but Marge was a little pokey about repaying her, and Glenda never let her forget about it.)

Though they always sit together as a group, it takes each old lady a considerable amount of time to choose which seat to purchase. (Or is Glenda just having trouble with that touchscreen again? Her fingers are always SO COLD.) They pay in cash, often with wrinkled bills that must be smoothed and counted and coinage that needs to be dug out of ancient change purses. I have seen this process take up to 20 minutes for a group of five little old ladies. They are a walking, giggling reminder to buy your tickets online in advance.

Sometimes, one of them will look up, smile faintly, and say to me, “My, we seem to be taking up a lot of your time, aren’t we?” I lie and say, “No, it’s fine; you're fine” as a hot mist of steam escapes from my ears, nostrils, and butthole.

Then, they mosey over to the concession stand, so they will be in front of me in that line too. The last time this happened, the little old ladies caused such a delay that the line stretched twenty patrons behind them. I was too far from the front to hear or understand what was going on. Though they insisted on buying and paying for their snack separately (Thirty years ago Marge suggested that they should just take turns paying and every fifth trip it would come out even, but she was voted down. RADICAL MARGE.) that wasn’t the problem. Whatever the problem, it took twenty-five minutes to resolve it and involved calling three separate theater employees and two managers over to the cash register. As they slowly walked away, I noted ruefully that the five little old ladies bought one package of Twizzlers and a small popcorn.

“My, we seem to be taking up a lot of your time, aren’t we?”

Sometimes after the movie, they will strike up a conversation with me. Seems Marge, Glenda, Violet, Janet, and Other Marge have been going to the movies together for thirty years... since all of their husbands died on that hunting trip. It gets them out of the house and allows them to feel connected to popular culture. “Wasn’t The Housemaid a hoot?” they ask me. "Linda just loved it when Sydney Sweeney beat the snot out of Brandon Sklenar. Linda’s always had a taste for blood.”

As much as I rankle at the sight of these inconvenient blue-hairs, I am of two minds about their very existence:

PRO—Fewer and fewer people are going out to the movies. Armies of Granny-Annies are helping to keep your local movie theater open. If word-of-mouth advertising is still powerful and golden, imagine the service these little old ladies are performing for Hollywood. All they do all day long is gossip, and vital information about recent theatrical releases is slowly filtering down through land-line phone chats, random grocery store meet-ups, church potlucks, book clubs, beauty salon conversations, and those awful places where you drink wine and paint.

CON—They are a time-wasting annoyance and may be helping convince ordinary civilians to stop going to the movies. Who wants to wait in line an extra 45 minutes because Mee-Maw can’t decide where to sit, insists on using Confederate currency, and cannot for the life of her locate her “good glasses?” How about “Little Old Lady Only” (LOLO) screenings? Now, there’s an idea. LOLO screenings would have a separate line for little old ladies! LOLO screenings would let them take their time choosing seats, buying tickets, and paying with pennies! LOLO screenings would not start the show until the little old ladies were seated and ready! IF you got rid of the now-standard half hour of bullshit that precedes each movie screening in this country, it should just about come out even. LOLO screenings offer FREE Twizzlers!

My friends, this could really catch on with family members who need a little respite from... certain other family members. “No, it’s no trouble Aunt Dottie, I will GLADLY drive you to your LOLO screening. I found your good glasses!” This is a million-dollar idea.

My, it seems as if I just took up a lot of your time, didn’t I?