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It’s been hectic this past week, what with people trying to cram four weeks work into the first two weeks of this holiday-laden month. Throw in some Chardon rehearsals, a Beachwood audition, the lunch runs for Helen and meetings, and—

Which is why laughter — even nonsense — is still the best medicine!

Last Saturday we hit the 11:50 AM screening of Chris Rock’s new movie. Let it be known that if ever you want privacy at the cinema, catch a morning show.

Sharing a tub of popcorn, we entered the auditorium. (Ed. Note 1: I clearly prefer that we each get our own snack. It’s not about being stingy; it’s just that I’m territorial about food, and at any given moment I like to know what’s left in my inventory. Still, they suck you in at the theater: the cost of the large is but a buck more than the medium. It doesn’t make sense, then, to buy two mediums when one mammoth vat is so cost-efficient).

(Ed. Note 2: Carrie rarely sees this side of me, although Stacy knows it well. How often have I been with my Little One at a restaurant when, once our food’s been served she wants to try mine. “If you want it, order your own,” I admonish. “But I only want a bite, Daddy”.).

Anyway, there we were, a solid ten minutes before even the previews would begin. Moreover, this being the day’s first showing, the lights were still on and the seats were still empty.  Indeed, those first several minutes it was just the two of us…in an empty theater…with opportunity.

“Take a picture of me,” I urged, sprinting to the front of the house. She grabbed her phone as I urged her forward. “Stand over here, so you can get the empty seats. Put it on ‘video’”.

And then, to the sheer delight of only me as it turned out, Carrie filmed me addressing no one. “We’re here,” I announced on film, “To honor our friend Bob.”

She rolled her eyes while laughing, I sent it to Stuart.   In the meantime we sat. Just the two of us. Eating popcorn.

“You know,” I marveled (in an “Ah ha!” moment), “The guy said free refills with the Large.”
(She nodded).
“Let’s refill now,” I proclaimed, our vat barely dented.

I reached in my left jacket pocket and, whipping out my hand, brandished a clear plastic bag that had once carried Aunt Helen’s mail. In one fell swoop we emptied the bucket to the bag and before you could say “We’re here to honor our friend Bob”, Carrie was hustling to the lobby to refill our order.

(It takes so little to make us happy).

(Ed. Note 3: Another couple showed up, finally. They passed by our aisle and sat near the back. Neither was toting food).

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Good as it is to make our own fun, great as it is to just play, the best laughs still come when I look at myself.

Monday evening— we’d just gone upstairs. Traditional ritual was on tap: the first two segments of “Olbermann”, a repeat of “Seinfeld”, “The Daily Show”, Letterman’s monologue….

“Do you want to go to a funeral tomorrow?” I inquired.
“No. Who died?”
(So I named the lady and that I might hit it on my way uptown).
“Do you even know her?” asked Carrie.
“No, but Stuart does and he suggested I go.”

And then…it all happened at once: her slapping my shoulder…her raucous laughter … her admonition:

“How OLD are you?” she mused. “You’re 65!”
(By now I was laughing too).
“You mean to tell me,” she continued incredulously, “That you’re willing to go to the funeral of a stranger because your friend Stuart said to?”
“He’s never given me a ‘bum steer’” I was trying to say…but I just couldn’t stop laughing.

She was giving me the look Cheryl Hines always gave Larry David on “Curb”, but… but… she was laughing too.

We both were.

We had so much fun with our own nonsense, I might add…that we never quite caught “The Daily Show”.

This entry was posted on Friday, December 19th, 2014 at 3:08 am and is filed under Up From Dysfunction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.