Since I haven't done one of these in awhile, here's one.
My hubby and I try to have a date night once a week. We usually talk over dinner and then catch a movie.
Movie theatres are.....well....dark.
And I'm......well....blind with my glasses on, certifiably so without them.
After dinner we get to the theatre. We stand in line for tickets. So far all is good and well. No catastrophies as of yet.
We buy tickets and walk inside the lobby at which time I veer left to the restroom, and he veers to the theatre showing the previews of the movie we purchased tickets for.
Problem is, I neither remembered the name of the movie, or which theatre he went in. Okay, there are about eight to choose from. So I start out, blind as a cave bat, sneaking into each room, tiptoeing (although I have no idea why) down dark aisles looking for my husband. Okay, the man is pretty easy to spot. I just look for the guy with shoulder length hair who looks like a mop when you hold him upside down. Thin fellow, thick, shoulder length hair. You can see what I mean if you check back in the RWA picture archives.
Anyway, I checked EVERY theatre and he wasn't there. So now my suspense writer's mind is roiling around ideas of The Case of the Missing Husband. Logic tells me he probably went to use the restroom. So my writer's mind told me to stake all the men's restroom entrances out. I did. For quite awhile. You know, in case he's already downloading the chili he ate at the restaraunt thirty minutes prior to accompanying me to the crime scene.
Okay so I have no evidence of a crime other than figuring out how I'm going to file a missing person's report when the missing person has the only car keys that will get me to the police station after the movie is over. Or I could turn myself in for entertaining thoughts of husband torture and homicidal ideations in case he snuck off with someone of my gender who didn't happen to be me. Then I have a Eureka moment. He's a business owner. He probably got paged via voicemail from one of his guys out working evening shift. So I go back and ask the ticket lady if she remembers what movie we paid for. After casting me a look that would have been funny had I not had an MIA husband. I go to the movie she said, and of course that movie has two theatres. Luckily she remembered which theatre she'd directed us to. I go there thinking he'd show up. Eventually.
The beginning of the movie starts and I'm getting a little worried. I pivot in my seat to find the path of least resistance, meaning which door was closest, since I was obviously going to have to call the police. I stand up and look across the theatre, and what do I find.
I don't know how many times I walked past him. Yes Mophead sat there laughing at me each and every time I inched back in the theatre looking more panicked each time. No he did not get up and come sit by me when he saw me sitting perilously and anxiously alone. He was too busy laughing his Mophead off, quite entertained to see just how long it would take me to figure out he was right across the aisle.
Our first date was a blind date. Snicker. No, really. He didn't tell me where we were going. He'd made me an eye appointment and told me I wasn't leaving without a pair of glasses.
I think we're about due for another one of those blind dates. Sigh. Getting old sucks pond water as my good SAYSF friend would say.