Hollywood 16: A Movie Theater Review

Recently, my wife and I went to see Star Wars: The Force Awakens at the Hollywood 16 Theater. As is the case when seeing a feature film, our first task was to visit the establishment’s website to determine show times. For those who have ever wondered what cutting-edge web design looked like in 1997, look no further. The garish juxtaposition of lavender navigation buttons and an ill-advised twinkling star backdrop are a fascinating illustration of minimal effort paired with sustained indifference. As an added bonus, it renders beautifully on your smartphone.

The facility’s exterior serves as a harbinger of the apathy housed within: a sign featuring perpetually un-lit syllables, overgrown shrubbery planters, a neglected parking infrastructure. Customers are then compelled to wait outside under a token awning so inadequate it borders on parody. I can only imagine how infuriating such a structure must be during inclement weather as it channels the precipitation into the faces of customers.

Eventually, you are able to approach the window and procure your tickets ($10 or $7.50 for a matinee as of this writing) before entering the lobby. Immediately to your left you will notice an alcove labeled “Game Room” but containing nothing more than an artificial tree and a decommissioned change machine. A morose employee tore my ticket and vaguely indicated the direction of our theater.

My wife and I then stopped into the restrooms which were akin to a “before” picture from an extreme makeover program. The soap was gone, the laminate counter-top had long since succumbed to the onslaught of moisture, and the hand dryer appeared to be jury-rigged to an outdoor electrical outlet on the wall. The entire area smelled of diluted cleaning products and shame.

Emerging from the restroom, one is confronted by a large, circular seating area enwreathed by cushions so soiled they could have easily been purloined from the dumpster behind a Budget Inn renovation. The concession area offers the usual fare at only marginally-exorbitant prices. The popcorn and fountain drinks were fine, but we weren’t brave enough to sample any of the entrees that featured meat. The remaining lobby is carpeted with a dark cosmic pattern in keeping with the galactic theme of the website.

Finally we made it to the entrance of our movie. The credits from the previous movie were wrapping up and were asked to stand outside by a female supervisor while she and a young male employee cleaned the auditorium. They emerged about 2 minutes later and we walked in to choose our seats.

Short of visually scanning for a deceased patron, I am not sure what had transpired during this “cleaning session”. There were still abandoned cups in the cup holders and popcorn scattered among the rows along with a sampler of the candy offered at the concession stand. One got the impression that the space would have benefited greatly from the combination of a leaf blower and an open emergency exit.

It is stadium seating, although the steps on either side are so awkwardly spaced that anyone navigating them assumes the gait of someone whose legs are of dramatically different lengths. The seats recline slightly (some at the behest of the patron, others because their structural integrity has been hopelessly compromised) and a choice few of the armrests feature the remnants of padding. The upholstery, having absorbed years of flatulence and regret, has long ceased to display a discernible pattern. Even in the low lighting, one perceives that the speakers and hanging tapestries have not been cleaned or dusted since the commencement of Operation Iraqi Freedom.

Keep in mind, I was there for a screening of Stars Wars: The Force Awakens yet was subjected to a preview for Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Road Chip and Daddy’s Home (both of which were already released, showing in that very theater, and likely qualify as cinematic hate-crimes). Given the dust, a commercial for a mesothelioma class action suit may have been more apropos.

I can report that at least the projector and sound-system functioned properly for the duration of the film and there were no technical issues. From other reviews I have read this would appear to be a matter of luck.

The best way to summarize this theater would be institutionalized indifference. It is a business that continues to operate and turn a profit simply because those patronizing it have no convenient alternatives and/or lack the collective will to demand some. The only other theater in town is operated by the same ownership group and I imagine that its facilities will soon succumb to the same malaise that has already claimed its older counterpart. The disposition of the employees is likely nothing more than a reflection of a proprietorship whose passion for operating a theater ended long before their ownership has.

Fun With Potty-Training

The time has come for potty training. You don’t realize how difficult it is to convince someone to stop soiling themselves until you really have to put it into practice. Here I am, a grown man, attempting to convince my son that he should willingly trade the convenience of being able to relieve himself at will and have someone else clean him for the physical discomfort of delaying his bodily egresses and cleaning himself. Even as I make the argument I am not sure that I really believe it. The best response I could muster if asked “Why do I have to potty train?” would be something vague about societal norms and the ongoing financial burden of diapers.

Despite all of this, we purchased a special toilet seat, some officially licensed Disney underwear, and 2 pounds of M&Ms. The idea was that each time our son successfully utilized the toilet he would receive a treat. Although I knew better, some part of me expected the entire process to take place over a 2 minute conversation:

Son, you have reached the age where you are cognitively able to defer your bowel movements and your mother and I would like you to do so from this point forward. As a reward, you will be given name brand chocolates. Does you find this agreeable?

Yes father. That is a perfectly reasonable request. Shall I also refrain from screaming NO! and begin eating my vegetables with gusto?

Of course, my son had several demands. The most important being that he wished to “see big poo-poo” before it begins its voyage through the municipal sewer system. He also wished to be allowed at least one square of toilet paper per urination. The problem is that to amass more toilet paper he will force himself to stop mid-stream so that he can count each intermission as a new session. This leads to the type of ridiculous negotiations all too familiar for those with a toddler:

I pee-pee! Toilet paper!

Okay son, you can have one square.

I pee-pee again! More toilet paper!

That was a dribble at best and you nearly gave yourself a hernia producing it.

But more pee-pee……..

Fine, you get half a square but no more until I see an unbroken urine-stream.

Since we began, my wife and I have been second-guessing ourselves on timing. Some people have commented that he was ready for it months ago (we just potty-trained Timmy during weaning) while others will tell you that you are only frustrating yourself if they are not ready (they wouldn’t make size 6 Pampers if no one wore them) . To paraphrase George Costanza, we want our son to rest in the meaty part of the curve; not showing off, but not falling behind either.So far we have had a few accidents and there are just days where he feels overwhelmed and says, “No big boy underwear today.” 

In a cruel bit of irony, it seems that for every step closer we get to potty training my son, the more frequently my daughter poops in the tub.I have begun building in an extra 20 minutes or so on bath night in order to evacuate and sanitize the tub with bleach. There is nothing quite as terrifying as clearing a bathtub full of water toys. Every time I flip a boat over there is a distinct possibility that I will be confronted by a stowaway. It is the worst aquatic shell game ever. 

Most of the experts agree that you should exemplify the habits and behavior you wish to see in your children. For that reason, I have started eating M&Ms after each successful trip to the restroom. 

If this doesn't work I may have to revisit "Elimination Communication." 

Fun With C-Diff!

Several weeks ago, our infant daughter began experiencing frequent diarrhea. As the stomach bug had recently ravaged our home, we simply assumed that the last holdout had fallen. However, after almost two weeks she had lost 10% of her body weight and we decided to perform a test for Clostridium difficile colitis.

For the uninitiated, Clostridium difficile colitis (C-Diff on the streets) is a bacterial infection of the lower intestine that causes cramping and severe infectious diarrhea. It is most commonly seen in hospitals and nursing homes where a patient’s gut flora (the worst of all flower arrangements) has been wiped out by anti-biotics.

As you can imagine, testing for the ailment requires a stool sample. This becomes exponentially more difficult when the patient is an infant and the infection has transformed her colon into a dung cannon. For the test to be most accurate, the sample should be captured before it hits an absorbent surface (like a diaper).

To compensate for this, we were instructed to Cling-Wrap our child’s nether-regions before applying the diaper so that (in theory) we could simply wrap the unadulterated sample and bring it to the doctor’s office. The logistics of this proved to be more difficult.

For one thing, when you child has explosive diarrhea all the Cling-Wrap does is create a fecal slip & slide that guarantees a hull breach. Regardless, we placed a roll of plastic wrap, some sandwich bags, and some gloves on her changing table. Every time we swapped diapers I felt like I was working at a deli counter.

The first sample was not “substantial” enough so we had to take another one. Three samples in, we finally got a positive diagnosis. With C-diff the testing is almost incessant and the lab procedure is prone to false negatives. This usually meant that while on lunch my wife would hand me a Ziploc bag of excrement and ask me to take it by the clinic on my way back from work. I am just thankful that I was never pulled over and had to explain my cargo.

Since there is no real way to retain your dignity while standing in a line holding a bag poop, I usually would just loudly announce to the receptionist that “with all due respect I would like to hand you a bag of human feces.” The results of this strategy tended to vary based on the receptionist working the window that day. Most of the time this drew a chuckle and I was out the door in a few minutes.

On my final delivery, I utilized the same technique on a rather serious woman who asked that I fill out some paperwork. This was the first time that I had been asked to do so and when the form asked me to categorize my business that day as a “Check-up” or a “Problem” I coyly requested her guidance. She dryly indicated I could write “Other.” She then inquired as to whether or not the nurse was expecting the turd I had placed on the counter. I replied that while I had not spoken to the nurse that day, she was expecting us to bring a sample by today or tomorrow. She seemed unconvinced and for a moment I entertained the idea of asking if they were having an issue with unsolicited deliveries of poo, but thought better of it.

She checked my insurance provider and address (as I assume this would alter the routing of the package) and then said she needed to step into the back for a moment. I asked if I could get a receipt for the stool sample for my records and she starred at me with a mixture of mild annoyance and disbelief. Finally, after several minutes she agreed to take possession of the item.

Ironically, the common treatment for a bacterial infection caused by anti-biotics is really, really potent anti-biotics. Due to her age, the medicine had to be compounded by hand and they flavored it with mango to cover the taste. My daughter has always been a trooper when it comes to medicine, but one drop of this initiated immediate dry-heaves. We began to suspect she was not a fan of the mango flavoring and I thought about asking them if they could remix it with cherry.

Finally I decided to test it myself and placed a small amount on my tongue. It quickly became apparent that the flavoring was irrelevant since all I could taste was sadness. It was like licking a rusted car bumper while watching someone eat a mango on television. It took Listerine to remove final remnants from my taste buds and my daughter watched all of this with what I interpreted as smug satisfaction. I was much more patient with her after that.