"We're going to the pictures." And they went. They were 75 and 78, respectively, and they saw Alien vs. Predator by mistake. They wanted to see Titanic because their daughter-in-law, Cheryl, said it made her cry. Cheryl (they think but do not say) is a frigid bitch who didn't even cry when her husband's foot was run over by a truck. If this film made her cry, there's got to be something to it. They went through the wrong door at the theater and were treated to a bloodbath.
"Well," he said, "I can see why it made her cry."
"We're going to the movies." And they went. They were 11 and 13, brothers, and bought a tub of popcorn larger than both of their heads, slathered in barbecue sauce. Their tickets said Lilo & Stitch but they snuck into Alien vs. Predator (forbidden by their mother) and were treated to a bloodbath.
"That," one brother thought, "is a bloodbath."
"That," thought the other, "is quality cinema," and threw popcorn at an elderly couple that had done nothing but complain that they didn't understand what this had to do with the sinking of the Titanic.
"I'm going to see a film." And he did, alone. He was 21 and wore glasses like David Hockney. No one got the reference to David Hockney. They told him he looked like Ugly Betty. He'd watched episodes of the series on the internet and didn't think he looked particularly like America Ferrera, but he didn't want to compromise his "I don't own a television" street cred and told them he didn't know who Ugly Betty was. He went to see an independent film called Walls of our Consciousness that he was sure no one else in his film class had seen. It was playing at a local theater (run, unbeknownst to him, by the brother of the filmmaker - "Please," the man had said, "you've got to play my film, I'm sure it'll get into Sundance if I can scrape together the entry fee" - and the brother had capitulated, remembering his childhood of sneaking into pictures with his siblings and watching Forbidden Planet).
"One ticket to Walls of our Consciousness," he said, but it had been cancelled that day. Not enough people in the theater. In fact, it was just him and a man whom he'd seen at the bus stop waving a cardboard sign. He sighed, and asked what else was playing.
Two hours later, he emerged from Alien vs. Predator.
"Cool," he said, picking up his knapsack. It was the beginning of a new era.