As you all undoubtedly know, Bee Movie opened this weekend. Marcus had been reciting lines from the previews for weeks, so I knew he was too excited about this flick to wait a few weeks for the crowds to die down. So, on Saturday afternoon I went online and purchased tickets for that evening’s 6:25 show. But this post is not about Bee Movie. This post is about stories that you simply cannot make up – stories that will be included in my son’s A&E Biography when he becomes famous (or infamous) one day.
* * * *
We’re running a little too late for comfort. Seats will be hard to come by when we make it to the theater. Luckily, the gods of parenting are smiling down on us and grant me a parking space at the mall within the first 2 minutes of my search. I lift Marcus atop my shoulders and tell him to hang on as we run full speed to the theater. He hangs onto my ear with one hand and flails the other in the air, taking advantage of our harried situation to play rodeo.
We make it to the theater in time to take a pre-emptive pee and push our way into theater number 9. As we walk along the corridor, I notice a very annoying strobe light blinking about every 5 seconds or so. In the theater itself, all the strobe lights are going. Since it’s only the two of us, we manage to find decent seats, up high and in the middle. Nice!
Marcus and I settle in to wait for the movie to begin, but this incessant strobe light is really starting to irritate people. I find out by eavesdropping on random chatter that someone triggered the fire alarm earlier and they need to wait for the Fire Marshall to reset it. Luckily, we were prepared. Marcus pulls a couple of Transformers from his cargo pants and makes a friend of a little girl sitting next to us. She’s brought a coloring book and wind-up ladybug to the table. They are going to be fine.
Time passes. Apparently more than I thought. I look at my watch. It is 6:45. Twenty minutes late, and no Fire Marshall in sight. Kids are becoming restless, parents are getting annoyed. Some of the weaker ones take their protesting kids and leave. We decide to stick it out.
About ten minutes later, a team of managers enters the theater. They call for our attention. The room quiets down to hopefully hear some good news.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please be patient. We’re still waiting for the Fire Marshall to arrive-- ”
“HEY! YOU GONNA START THIS MOVIE OR WHAT!?”
Oh crap… was that my son? It sure sounded like him. Yes it was. He’s standing up, fist in the air. Heads turn. Kids laugh. I give my best “heh heh, what can you do?” shrug/smile.
The manager continues without missing a beat, “… Once they arrive we’ll be able to start the movie.”
“OK! BECAUSE IF YOU DON’T START THIS MOVIE, WE’RE ALL WALKING OUT OF HERE!”
Heads turn again, but instead of annoyance, I see smiles of agreement -- from the parents! Kids start pumping their fists in solidarity. My kid is spearheading a massive walk-out!
“AM I RIGHT??”
He’s won the kids over. Around the room, yeahs echo back in unison.
“AND AFTER WE DO THAT… WE’LL COME BACK AND BUY THIS PLACE!!”
(He’s threatening corporate takeover???)
“AM I RIGHT??”
More agreement -- now from kids and parents alike. Random applause and laughter ensue. I’m one part shocked, one part impressed and one part utterly amused. I do the only thing I can do, given the situation. I sit back and enjoy the show.
The manager responds. “Sir, we’ll be starting the movie as soon as possible. Please be patient.”
(She called my 5-year old boy SIR! This just keeps getting better.)
Marcus responds by pumping both fists in the air. “PLAY IT NOW! ... PLAY IT NOW! ... PLAY IT NOW!”
The crowd follows along in unison. “PLAY IT NOW! PLAY IT NOW! PLAY IT NOW!”
Amidst the chanting, my beaming son turns to me and says, “DAD! I’m gonna be famous!!”
I’m thinking you already are, kiddo.
As with most of Marcus’ shenanigans, at some point I need to step back into responsible parent mode and ramp him down. Eventually, he’s back to ground level, but my curiosity is killing me.
“Hey Fury, where did you learn to do this stuff?”
He reflects for a moment. “I guess I watch too much TV.”
Parents, this is apparently what happens when you leave your TV on the History Channel.