My Last Night at the Theater

Tuesday was my last night at the theater. It was quiet; schools are back in session, there's nothing worth watching except the final few days of Mama Mia! and the Dark Knight. Traitor, starring Don Cheadle, starts on Wednesday; along with Hamlet 2 - the "Rock Me Sexy Jesus" farce that won't last more than one week. Fortunately, I won't be there on September 12th to clean up behind Tyler Perry's 'The Family That Preys'. Tyler is great - his fans don't know the meaning of respect and responsibility.

There were only six of us working Tuesday night: myself, as usher, one concessionaire, one ticket-taker, one in the box office, a floor manager who barely left the office all night, and the manager in the projector booth. We only sold a little over 200 tickets the entire day. No theater had more than 15 people watching any movie.

In Mama Mia!, a card-carrying AARP member tried to hit on me. She wanted to dance, I wanted to get off my feet. Besides being happily engaged, I've never been attracted to women as old or older than myself. Everyone who sees Mama Mia! leaves the theater happier for the experience, and I was more than a little relieved when she followed her daughter out of the auditorium. There was not even one piece of popcorn to sweep up, so I was happy too.

Our girl in the box office came up to me to ask me to attend to the ladies bathroom. I offered her the broom, but she declined. What she really wanted was for me to go in there and repair the missing panel and stall door that once divided two toilets. The wall panel fell in on a customer a couple of months ago, striking her about the head and knees as she was squatting at the time. The general manager has no room in the budget to repair the toilet, clean the carpets, mend the torn wallpaper, mount the fire extinguishers someone ripped off the walls in half the auditoriums, replace the broken track lights that help people see their way up and down the steps; no maintenance person who knows how to tighten the screws on the soda syrup pumps so that they will stop dripping on the floor and attracting ants. The exterminator hasn't been able to get rid of the fire ants that dug through the concrete floor and built a huge anthill in the electric room where all the breakers are located. Nor has the exterminator sprayed the corners and ceilings inside and outside the theater to get rid of all the spiders who live there. Somewhere there is a huge hive of yellow jackets that hang out around the dumpsters and harrass me when I throw out the trash - they haven't been taken care of either. Basically, our facilities are in sad shape. But, as I told the box office girl, Tuesday night was my last night and I can't do anything to help.

After I cleaned the last set for the evening, I cleaned the breakroom and the syrup room one last time, then hid my broom and dustpan behind the ice machine where I've hidden it for months. I made one round of movie checks, clocked out and snuck out the side door without saying goodbye to anyone. I'm sure I'll see them again - but as a customer from now on.

I'll miss some of the folks I worked with...well maybe two: Abbas, the Pakistani manager who only works on Saturday nights, and a young female college student who's name I can't remember; who will leave soon to return to school in California. She's been the hardest working, most positive, sweetest person I've ever worked with. She's a conservative - which attests to her wisdom and maturity; and she thinks that Ronald Reagan is the best President America has ever had. I do too. Both she and Abbas are patriots, and we enjoyed lots of conversations about politics, school, and family. Actually, I'll miss some of the others too, even the usher who only talks about French food, Asian women, and soccer - he never shuts up, but he enjoys taking the trash out so I didn't have to. The managers and employees at the theater were OK people by me. I wish them well; and I hope that some day - maybe if Barack brings about the changes he promises, that customers will learn to be neat, respectful, and human - not like the pigs I cleaned up behind for the past ten months.