Concession Concession

The other weekend my wife and 17-year-old daughter decided that they were going to treat themselves to pedi-cures. This gave me a great opportunity to finally watch a movie by myself, which translates to watching a movie I want to see. Usually when I go to a movie with them it has to be something they want to see, like a romantic comedy or chick flick.

That’s OK with me most of the time, as I just want to have family time with them, but end up longing to see my kind of movie — usually one they want nothing to do with. So on this particular glorious day I decided to go see American Sniper all by myself. I went to the closest multiplex only to find that the place was packed.

It was opening weekend for the movie and with all the hype it was going to be an experience similar to sitting in traffic on the H-1 freeway. So I finally got my ticket and rushed to get in line at the concession. Besides being able to see a movie of my choosing, I also get to eat what I want without any guilt-inducing comments. So I got a buttered popcorn (of course), mochi crunch, a hot dog and an Icee. I went to the condiment counter to get napkins, salt for the popcorn and toppings for the dog.

That’s when the Grande-sized Americano coffee I had a half-hour prior started to kick in. I was not going to get up during the movie to use the bathroom. So I needed to hit the men’s room but didn’t know what to do with all my food. No way I was going to take it in the bathroom with me, as I could imagine all the airborne bacteria that would somehow get onto my eats.

I spotted a friendly looking woman with her young daughter. I put my tray down next to her and said, “Would you please do me a favor and watch my food while I run to the restroom?”

I was expecting her to call security, but she replied with a smile, “Sure!”

So I hustled to the bathroom so as not to inconvenience her too much.

When I came out she was nowhere to be found. And my food was gone.

That’s when I saw her and her daughter emerge from the woman’s restroom carrying my tray of food.

She handed it to me, explaining, “My daughter had to use the bathroom so I held on to your popcorn and stuff.”

The movie American Sniper was really good. Too bad I didn’t have any food to go with my viewing pleasure.

rnagasawa@midweek.com