I know I should be writing positive, engaging things, but come on, positive, engaging things are rarely interesting. So here is why you don't want to watch a movie with me.
My attorney-friend Danny came over to watch a movie one Sunday night. Danny's an up-and-comer, married, two kids, a soon-to-be legal star cutting his teeth at a downtown law firm. I was surprised he showed up when he said he would because he's one of those maniacally busy types and also because it's maniacally hard finding a parking spot in my crowded Rogers Park neighborhood. But yeah, he was here and it was all good, right? At least it started out that way. But by the time the night was over, the whole thing was so traumatic I can't even remember the movie. But it was like most American movies guys watch together (violent).
So we got our beverages and finally settled in. The movie started, and I skipped through the coming attractions. Yeah, it was all good. Then just as the movie proper began in earnest the phone rang.
It was only set to ring three times before voicemail got it, so I let it ring. But Danny said, "Aren't you going to get that?"
I'm one of those people that when I watch a movie I watch a movie, so I said, "Nah, voicemail will." I even put the phone out in the hallway on the ironing board.
So the movie was rolling. Shootings, drugs, profanity—we were enjoying it. Then the phone rang again. (I should've put it out of earshot.) Now Danny said, "Aren't you going to get it this time?" I somewhat politely told him to just watch the damn movie.
He bristled at that for a moment, but then got back into the mayhem on the screen.
Well, you guessed it. The phone rang again. Danny was like, "You better get that. I forgot my phone at home. It could be my wife. It could be something important. An emergency."
"Your wife can live without you for as long as it takes to watch a movie, Danny," I scolded.
"But..."
The phone rang a few more times as we watched, and Danny still bristled, but he also realized my will was too strong for him.
The movie ended, and I felt bad for Danny because I could see he was uptight. I resolved there and then that next time we watched a movie together I would put my phone on silent. Danny left in a silent hush, and I went for another beer and to see if the pesty caller had left a voicemail.
Oh my.
"Gregg, it's Danny's wife Sharon. It's an emergency. The police called. Danny's car is blocking somebody's driveway, and if he doesn't run down there and move it, they're towing it."
Double oh my.
Each succeeding message was more desperate.
Understandably, after a few minutes there was a knock on the door.
There stood Danny, his face utterly drained of color. "I can't find my car."
Perhaps pathologically a prankster, I asked, "Well, where did you leave it?"
"I thought down the street, but it wasn't there. Then I walked all around the block. It's not anywhere."
I couldn't torture him any longer. I told him about the messages.
So that's bad enough, right? But there's more.
Danny had legal briefs in his car, and the car was towed to the police pound, and no one would be there till Monday morning.
So for sure that's bad enough, right? But there's more.
Danny needed those briefs to argue a case before the Illinois Supreme Court in the morning.
Yeah, that's as bad as it gets. And that's why you don't want to watch a movie with me.
