Last night, around the world, people went to bed just like they do every. single. night (unless you’re still young enough to pull all-nighters without feeling like shit for a week afterward. Then, maybe you witnessed the sunrise from a Denny’s parking lot. Whatever.)
And this morning, people around the world woke up just like they do every. single. day. Some parts of the world set their clocks back an hour. And some didn’t. It’s not that freaking big of a deal.
Unless, of course, you want to go see a movie. Then, apparently, it’s a humungous deal.
See, I have been going back and forth over taking my little girl to see Footloose for the past couple of weeks. I really wanted to see it. I remember being around her age watching the original one on HBO with my mom and it being a huge deal for me. I loved every moment of it. I wanted to experience that with my girl. I wasn’t sure if she was old enough, but I decided I didn’t care. We were doing it.
I found the show time at our local theater and when the time came we went. It did not once occur to me that maybe times might be all squirrelly and jacked up because of DST. WHY THE HELL WOULD IT? Do shows on TV all of the sudden start coming on at wonky times because we fell back an hour? NO. No, they do not. Do churches and synagogues and chapels and ballgames and whatever the hell else decide to change their start times? NO. No, they do NOT. But if they did, I’m quite certain they would go on the one place all people in the world go to seek information, the interwebz, the world wide web, THE INFORMATION SUPERHIGHWAY- for god’s sake! and change the freaking times!
Needless to say, we got to the theater and the movie that was supposed to start at 1:20 was listed to start at 12:20. We missed ours by an hour. The hand full of people that were there to see other movies were a little pissed that their start time was different too. I calmly told the ticket gal I was disappointed but would see the movie in a close-by theater.
I double checked the neighboring theater’s start times before we left and Elle and I drove the half hour it took to get to our movie. To find that the theater wasn’t even showing FOOTLOOSE today. She told us the theater about 15 minutes up the road was showing it and we could make the next showing if we left right away. I asked her WHY THE FUCK I should believe that BULLSHIT since the Regal cinema down the road just sent me to her. I then convinced Elle to wait the hour and a half and return to the first theater so we’d be sure to catch the movie.
The ONLY reason I stayed with Regal cinemas after this cluster of a day was because we had a gift card to there and movies are freaking expensive. I called the theater to make sure they were still showing the movie at 3:20 and told the kid I wanted him to verify the time because the internet was wrong as well as every other idiot that works at Regal and I wanted a personal guarantee that the movie started at 3:20. He flippantly replied “Yah, this daylight savings time has us all screwed up.”
WHAT? WHYYYY? You set your clock back. One hour. You go to sleep. You wake up at 8 and the clock says 7 and you congratulate yourself on gaining an hour today. WHAT IS SO HARD ABOUT THAT????
You guys. We survived Y2K. Remember that? If the computers were smart enough to navigate the first millennium change, how can they not be smart enough to navigate the twenty-fourth daylight savings time since then?
Apparently, the idiots at Regal Cinemas smoked a little too much of the reefer or some unknown shenaniganz and can’t get their shit together. But don’t blame DST. That’s just bullshit.
It was probably my anger at their stupidity while I was driving back to theater number one that caused me to flip off the asshole driver who wouldn’t let me merge onto the turn lane like a nice guy should. Or he was just an asshole that deserved to be flipped off.
Obviously, my eight year old got the education of a lifetime today. And that was before the movie even started.
And, no matter how guilty I felt for letting her witness a lot of making out and suggestive dancing between teenagers, nothing will make me regret letting her see that movie today. (Unless she gets knocked up by a guy names Ren at 15. Then, maybe.) The tear that we both got at the last dance scene of the movie (me due to the fact that I was experiencing this with my own daughter twenty something years later, and her because it was just so cool) was fantasmic. Better than buying her that Strawberry Shortcake doll when she was 2 just because that was my favorite doll as a kid.
What can I say? I’m a sucker!
Oh, and SUCK IT REGAL CINEMAS! You’re idiots!