When I first saw Portlandia, it was as though someone had pinched me awake from a dream. I had grown so accustomed to Portlandic culture that I had forgotten where I’d come from: Texas. Granted, I am not one to deny that Texas has its own unique culture. (And that, if I’m honest, served as part of the reason I moved to possibly the most opposite place: Seattle.)
It’s really awakening to see the culture you’re immersed in reflected back to you…
This is all merely a grand introduction to the story of Michael and I joining the Saturday Movie Theatre Crowd. Now, this is a thing. The “Saturday Movie Theatre Crowd” spend 2 hours of the 10 months of cold, rainy Saturdays in the movie theatre. This is almost like a competition, an “Amazing Race”. It is “Dog-Eat-Dog”. Of course, Michael and I had nooooo clue what we were getting ourselves into.
Rule 1: There is a timed approach and exit to the box office. Learn the choreography before showing up.
When you walk up to the box office (after waiting in a very long line), there is a choreographed approach and departure. People hold their elbows out, so if you miss your cue you’ve caused a 5 person pile up in no time. We began to just stroll away from the box office, but then I saw the look on a woman’s face who was B-lining it to her position. It’s like when you hit a yellow light, but you’re still going pretty fast. Do you speed up and run through the light, or do you hit the breaks and stop a bit suddenly? I hit the breaks and reversed a couple steps, otherwise I might not have any feet today.
Rule 2: When you hit the theatre, SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST reigns. (The stairmaster helps train for this part, as well as night vision goggles.)
We’ve ascended the four flights of stairs (I mean, like a LOT of stairs), and we’re heading into the movie theatre a little out of breath. It’s already a bit dark, we walk up the stairs looking for two seats in the middle of the middle. We’re slowing down a bit, and this guy, out of no where, seriously, sideswipes us, head down with only an abrupt and curt, “Scuse me!” Apparently we were in his way. Mind you, all of the people in these stories are not hot young things with an adolescent’s undeveloped social etiquette. Rather, these are ADULTS! Grey-haired adults, who should know better. (Ah, but I forget, its Porlandia! Where young people go to retire, and where old people never have to mature relationally. My bad.)
Rule 3: You cannot pass people. Period. Best to walk around on a different row and climb down, or just take a seat on the edge.
We spot a couple, but we have to pass a few people to get them….which is pretty normal, right? Well, apparently we were trespassing. We enter the row and hit a family of four. Just as Michael’s about to pass the mom of the group, she holds out her hand, “Stop!” like a bar that lowers and holds its position when trains pass, totally blocking him. She bends over and picks up a bunch of stuff, and with a huff, she raises her arm and lets us by.
Rule 4: Previews suck. They’re there to provoke political backlash and propaganda. *Silence in the movie theatre does not apply in the Northwest. “If you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention.”
After one of the previews, amidst the chatter, a woman yelled out, “Yeah, vote for Ann Gibbard!”. (I don’t remember the name of the actual politician, but it followed a preview for the TV series, Top Shot—the hunter’s version of Top Chef.)
Rule 5: As a Seattlite, you are intellectual and you are a reader. Regardless of whether it means anything to you or not, you stay and read through the entire roll of credits at the end of a movie. Leaving at the “end” of the movie, is just ignorant.
After the movie, we’re in the post-movie aura. Everyone is standing up, putting their coats on, beginning to trickle out. Well, apparently, Michael and I were moving way to slowly or SOMEthing. Because as I was still putting on my coat, the woman of the older couple behind us leaned forward and with both of her arms and hands and fingers, exasperatingly motions (no words) for us move out of her way, so she can read that last bits of the credits. Needless to say, I stretched out my arms putting my coat on as broad and obtrusively as possible. She wiggled around my rebellious act until we finally got out the way.
Oh, Northwest. You certainly feed our narcissism and OCD as North Americans. It looks different in every part of the US, but it’s particularly entertaining here.
