My wife is profoundly snarky. So if you’re going to have a surreal experience, she’s the one to do it with. Last weekend we had one while watching the new movie First Man.
Just as Neil Armstrong and crew were preparing to embark on their historical mission, the power failed. Moments later, we wandered into the lobby, along with our fellow naked mole rats, to discover the entire multiplex had gone dark. As we stood waiting for rain checks, the power came on.
So we skittered back to our tunnels.
The movie eventually resumed. However, it turns out it had been playing the entire time we waited for the projector to fire up, so we’d missed the big dramatic build-up to the Apollo 11 flight! We waited another ten minutes, hoping they’d catch the oversight. They didn’t. So two of us went and told an usher. He asked how much we’d missed. “Ten minutes,” we said.
They ran the film back ten minutes, and we sat watching the ten minutes we’d just seen—instead of the previous ten minutes we’d missed. We went and found the usher. “No, ten minutes before that,” we clarified.
They finally restarted the movie at more-or-less the right place. Only at that moment, the automated preshow for the next scheduled screening kicked in. So we sat listening to the big dramatic build-up sequence while watching overlaid images of processed sugary treats.
We went and told the usher. He radioed the movie gods. They compliantly turned off the preshow and rebooted the movie to ten minutes before the theater had gone dark.
We ended up watching the pre-blackout section twice, the next section, the only part we’d actually missed (which by now had taken on mythical significance) once, and the ten minutes after that three times. It was at that point my wife leaned over and said, “You’d think if they could put a man on the moon they could show a movie about putting a man on the moon.”
You see why I could never have married anyone else?