Turned From Summer Into Sudden Spring, With

¶ … turned from summer into sudden spring, with wet wind and falling rain tainting the late afternoon, we decided to spend the next few hours indoors. Without knowing beforehand which films were playing at the Cinemark Theater, the four of us headed boldly for the colossal new stadium-seating venue. Because of my diminutive proportions, I can only be sure of a clear view of the screen at Cinemark; everywhere else I pray that a person no higher than five feet tall sits in front of me.

We parked my friend's four-door Toyota sedan mid-row in the giant parking lot, each one of us taking note of the location of the spot. After all, with night upon us, we couldn't be too sure of finding our way back. The lot was only half-full, which surprised me given the weather conditions. However, I knew that also meant less chance of the movie being packed with loud people. Heading north toward the shopping mall that housed the Cinemark Theater, our group grew increasingly excited about which film to see.

Jo Ann wanted to see something light and funny, while I usually opt for darker comedies: something showing life's absurdities without dwelling on sentimentality. Mark, Jo Ann's boyfriend, craved action flicks, while my boyfriend Thomas as usual didn't care what we saw, as long as he had popcorn to munch on. As we reached the box office, we selected a film with no argument between us, and headed into the neon-encrusted lobby.

The thin carpet glared at us from beneath our feet; its swirling collage of colors dazzled our eyes as if preparing us for the next few hours. It felt foamy, bouncy, and light. The air conditioning pierced my bare arms; causing instant goose bumps and making me crave hot liquids. All I could hear were soda fountains spewing Coke and other soft drinks.

An onslaught of buttered popcorn drew our attention straight ahead to the concession stand, where Thomas already scoped out a spot in line, about ten spots away from the cashier. My ears latched upon the sing-song sounds emanating from the lobby arcade, immediately to the right of the concession. Twelve-year-old boys and girls slammed their fingers on joysticks and jumped frantically to Simon Says-like dance machines. I sauntered over to the games and placed my hand on one of the fake guns designed to shoot digital criminals.

Rolling my eyes, I returned to my steadfast friends. To the left of the concession stand stood the ticket-taker, a pimply teenager who half-smiled at each customer. I fingered my ticket to make sure I hadn't lost it, and searched for Thomas in the crowd of hungry movie goers. He had three people to plow through before placing his order. When his turn came, I saw him reach into his pockets to fumble for change to pay the exorbitant costs of simple popcorn and pop.

The cashier shook Thomas's popcorn several times to let the fake butter settle into the grooves, only so that she could douse the snack even more. When Thomas stretched his arm out to receive the large bucket, his face lit.