The much-hyped summer blockbuster movies, Barbie and Oppenheimer, opened in July to rave reviews and sold-out theaters around the US. It seems like “everyone” is talking about these movies. The double-header has created a kind of real-life viral moment that people are loving. Families are going to the theater together. Tickets are sold out. People are dressing up in pink outfits for Barbie. Critics and fans are waxing poetic about the experience of being in a packed theater, sharing popcorn, the energy and laughter, and turning this into a celebratory event.
It made me reminisce about the dinner & a movie date nights I had with my wife every weekend for decades. We had so many great times together.
Blockbuster VHS tapes and later Netflix were convenient and pleasant in their own way, but never measured up.
I haven’t been to a movie theater since my wife died. I “want” to go but keep waiting for something to be released that I want to see. It’s not Barbie nor Oppenheimer.
The second thought that enters my head, is “When will I see the headline for the mass shooting at the theater?”
I fully expect this to happen. Then when it does, I’ll think – of course it happened.
How f***ed up is that?
I have no fear of death. That was taken away from me when my wife died. I don’t attribute my mass shooting expectation to some irrational fear of dying.
For me, it’s a prediction based on patterns I observe.
It is just like I expect to hear about weekend shootings every summer. The combination of sweltering temperatures, block parties, cookouts, dancing, loud music, crowds of drunk partiers, testosterone, posturing, sex, and guns that seems to result in a shooting every weekend.
Or like the shootings I expect to read about that frequently occur after the bars close on Friday and Saturday nights. They happen so often, I am never surprised.
Apparently I’m not the only who thinks about this. I heard Scott Galloway talking about taking his kids to see Oppenheimer and he said the first thing he did after getting seated was to locate the emergency exists and plot an escape plan, if he needed one.
So it’s not just me.
Likely it’s not just me and Scott.
Unfortunately, I anticipate we’ll be right.