It’s hot in the city again. Not as terribly hot and humid as it could be, but hot enough…for me to occasionally miss the air-conditioned bliss that accompanies a corporate gig. And tempers are running hot in the homestead too, with the little man learning to push my buttons even more comprehensively. Last night J realized I needed a break…and graciously agreed to hold down the fort while I went out in search of a/c. I headed uptown, to grab a galpal of mine, and the two of us went to the movies. Out of long-standing habit I still refer to it as the dollar theater, even though all the second-run theaters are charging $2 for admission these days. And it was slim-pickings at the good old Roseville 4. But wedged between dogs like “Daddy Day Care” and “2 Fast 2 Furious” was a film I was sort of curious about. My friend and I purchased tickets to “Chicago” (though she’d already seen it three times). We settled into the theater…after trying out, then turning down the first few dilapidated seats (it’s all part of the charm). I was enjoying the movie just fine when something went awry midway through. I heard some strange coughing sounds coming from behind us…and was a little worried that the soundmaker was choking. But it was worse than that. A woman cried out for help. Her husband was having a seizure. Suddenly there were folks scrambling around. 911 was called. Theater staff appeared. A crowd gathered in the back corner. Yet the film rolled. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. We couldn’t help. Anything that could be done was already being done, or set into motion. But how could we go on watching the movie? What’s the etiquette in this kind of situation? (J later suggested I write Miss Manners about it.) So we sat there, feeling anxious. Half-watching the movie, half-wondering what was happening behind us. Eventually EMTs arrived, just as the man came to. I found myself paying closer attention to their dialogue than the scripted stuff on-screen. When the movie was over we walked out of the theater…and were relieved to see the seizure victim, sitting upright with his wife at his side, holding her hand while stubbornly refusing oxygen. Unfortunately he wasn’t the only older gentleman in distress in that area last night. When I returned home I read about something that had been happening nearby, while we awkwardly watched our movie. A man had been held hostage in his own home. There too confused crowds had gathered…to gawk, to help, to hope. Happily all parties came away unharmed. Though the hostage-taker is likely looking at some hard time ahead of him. What gets into people? Must be the heat. Summer dreams ripped at the seams but oh those summer nights.
