The smell of alcohol filled the room thick, damp, and sticky sweet. Stumbling through the dark, a soft light emanated from the far wall silhouetting the people as they settled in their seats.
Squeezing into what appeared to be the only vacant chair in a room of hundreds, I discovered the source of the sweetness: Manhattans.
Bottles and bottles of Manhattans once cleverly concealed in giant oversized shoulder-bags filled with glasses, ice, cherries, and little munchy things, now proudly displayed as each group of attendees set up their own private mini bars.
Ladies. Really? An entire theatre filled with 40 something women hammered to the gills and dressed to the nines for the first screening of, clearly, one of the most anticipated films of the summer: Sex in the City 2.
The story was predictable, a bit nowhere in places, and very gratuitous, but these ladies didn't seem to care. That's not why they'd come.
This was the best twelve dollars they were going to spend in a very long time. A fabulous night out with “the girls.”
These women snorted and screamed with each close-up of shoes, howled in commiseration of the woes of motherhood, and moaned with envy as the luxury spilled over and the gorgeous, scantily clad men filled the screen.
The room was buzzing. These ladies were lapping up every diamond encrusted second.
There was something for every woman to talk and dream about for months to come.
Two and a half hours seemed to fly by without a stir that didn't involve an ice-cube, then, the very second the final word was uttered, the final kiss kissed, the final man mounted, before the last frame had had a chance to fully fade into the closing credits, these ladies were up out of their seats tucking their whiskey soaked bags under their arms, whispering and scurrying quickly out of the theatre.
It made me laugh. And then it made me think.
Why were they hurrying. Didn't they want to stick around and find out who'd designed the dresses, scarves, and shoes?
Then it occurred to me. Hell no.
Like a flashback to the dreaded lights up at the bar from days gone by, that'd only burst the bubble and these ladies wanted that bubble to last as long as it could.
They weren't there for anything close to a reality check. Quite the opposite. They were escaping for the sake of escapism. Pure, unapologetic escapism.
SITC2 definitely delivered on that account and I hope it'll be enough to last them until SITC 3 comes to town, because we know the ladies are already thinking ahead.
Proof? In true SITC fashion, when they stumbled from the theatres, they had the good sense to load their martini glasses into a fleet of awaiting cabs. Now that's ending the evening with some class.
Ladies, “the girls” would be proud.
Bottles and bottles of Manhattans once cleverly concealed in giant oversized shoulder-bags filled with glasses, ice, cherries, and little munchy things, now proudly displayed as each group of attendees set up their own private mini bars.
Ladies. Really? An entire theatre filled with 40 something women hammered to the gills and dressed to the nines for the first screening of, clearly, one of the most anticipated films of the summer: Sex in the City 2.
The story was predictable, a bit nowhere in places, and very gratuitous, but these ladies didn't seem to care. That's not why they'd come.
This was the best twelve dollars they were going to spend in a very long time. A fabulous night out with “the girls.”
These women snorted and screamed with each close-up of shoes, howled in commiseration of the woes of motherhood, and moaned with envy as the luxury spilled over and the gorgeous, scantily clad men filled the screen.
The room was buzzing. These ladies were lapping up every diamond encrusted second.
There was something for every woman to talk and dream about for months to come.
Two and a half hours seemed to fly by without a stir that didn't involve an ice-cube, then, the very second the final word was uttered, the final kiss kissed, the final man mounted, before the last frame had had a chance to fully fade into the closing credits, these ladies were up out of their seats tucking their whiskey soaked bags under their arms, whispering and scurrying quickly out of the theatre.
It made me laugh. And then it made me think.
Why were they hurrying. Didn't they want to stick around and find out who'd designed the dresses, scarves, and shoes?
Then it occurred to me. Hell no.
Like a flashback to the dreaded lights up at the bar from days gone by, that'd only burst the bubble and these ladies wanted that bubble to last as long as it could.
They weren't there for anything close to a reality check. Quite the opposite. They were escaping for the sake of escapism. Pure, unapologetic escapism.
SITC2 definitely delivered on that account and I hope it'll be enough to last them until SITC 3 comes to town, because we know the ladies are already thinking ahead.
Proof? In true SITC fashion, when they stumbled from the theatres, they had the good sense to load their martini glasses into a fleet of awaiting cabs. Now that's ending the evening with some class.
Ladies, “the girls” would be proud.
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