Iron Man 9:50

Jake’s been hanging around our place while he waits for his shift to start again at the camp for troubled teens. He’s 8 days on, 6 days off in Duchane. I’d talked to Nate about hitting the late night showing of Iron Man, which neither of us have seen. Jake was there so I offered him to come along if he wanted.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah,” I say.

He looks non-chalant, but there is an excitement in his eyes. “Sure.”

The movie starts at ten to ten, and Nate shows up at 9:30. As soon as Nate walks in, I give the signal to go, Jake jumps up from the computer, and we all pile into my Jetta.

“Do we have time to get candy?” Jake asks from the back seat.

I know we’ll be cutting it close. I know it’s only a $1 movie, but I’ve been waiting for a long time for this, and I didn’t want to be late.

“Uh.” I put on a labored look as I stare at the dashboard lights. “Yeah, if we hurry.”

So I pull out, take a right, and head to Kmart.

When we pull into the parking lot, we jump out and hurry inside, pushed by the weight of my
“Uh, yeah, if we hurry.”

We’ve done this before, Jake and I. Nate’s never been to the Kmart that I affectionately call the “black hole of hope.” Every time I’ve been here, there’s always more employees in the store than customers. And, usually, they’re just standing around while one employee at the customer service desk checks out customers.

We head straight to the candy isle and Jake grabs the last box of Good and Fruity and some Charleston Chews.

“These are gross,” Jake says picking up a bag of chocolate Skittles.

“Totally gross,” I echo.

“Really?” Nate says picking up a box of Sour Patch Kids and some Mike and Ikes.

“Yeah,” I say. “They’re not even chocolate, they’re just Skittles that are supposed to taste like chocolate.”

“Nasty.”

For once, there is actually a register open, but the only guy in line has an overflowing shopping cart. I guess that’s good for Kmart. Instead of waiting, Jake instinctively heads to the customer service desk. Thickness is on the phone, probably seventeen, 5’4”, and about 300 lbs.
“He can help you at the register over there,” he says, covering the receiver, but not removing the phone from his ear.

“Can you just check me out here?” says Jake, impatient.

Thickness sighs, continues talking, but takes the candy, and the cash. He drops the change on the counter and turns around. “Yeah, I need a hair cut real bad.” Jake tears the receipt off the register. “It’s lookin’ all ghetto, with the lines are growin’ over.” Thickness gives a laugh. “Nah, nah, nah.”

We’re out the door.

The line at the theater is short, which surprises me; this is the first week Iron Man is at the dollar theater. I was here last week when the new Hulk movie came out and I was in line for 10 minutes at a 10:00 showing. I guess that’s good for us.

After our ritual pee, we settle in to, like, 20 previews, but I don’t mind. Even though I’ve already seen all the previews, I still watch them. There is a simplicity and art to a good trailer that I’m still in love with.

Jake, Nate, and I pass candy boxes back and forth, chewing on high fructose corn syrup, red 40, and chocolate.

Jake and I smell cigarette smoke. It’s the dollar theater.

The movie rocks. We even sit through the credits to see Sam Jackson appear as Nick Fury, hinting at the upcoming Avengers movie.

At half-past midnight, we walk out of the theater to warm night air. We roll down the car windows and hear the sprinklers at the park as we pass them on our way home.