Apr 25, 2012
W is for ... Willie Nelson Got Me Thrown Out of a Movie
Roomie: What do you do if a guy you don't want to go out with leaves a message saying to call him? Do you call him back?
Me: Er, well, I wouldn't want to hurt his feelings... so I probably wouldn't call him back. I'd just pretend it never happened and hope he did the same.(I know this is terrible...)
Roomie: Okay. What if it was someone famous? (Because all good deep philosophical conversations involve such realistic scenarios)
Me: Someone famous wants to go out with me and I don't want to go?
Roomie: Willie Nelson! Willie Nelson wants to go out with you, you don't want to go, do you call him back?
Me: Well, I guess. I mean... it's Willie Nelson. You kind of have to call Willie Nelson back when he calls you...
We never revisited this conversation.
Fast forward a year, we went to see As Good As It Gets. Jack Nicholson kisses Helen Hunt. I'm young, stupid, and a bit shallow. He's much older than Helen, and it Ooooged. Me. Out.
I leaned over and whispered to Roomie, "I would never kiss Jack Nicholson." And in a flash, our earlier conversation came back to me and I added, "Even if Willie Nelson asked me to."
And then I got tickled. It struck me as the funniest thing in the history of funny.
All this is happening during a very emotional part of the movie, and I was trying so hard not to laugh. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her shaking with contained church giggles. This makes it funnier. In the space of a few seconds, I am laughing like a crazy person. And I don't want to!
I try so hard to put the cork back on that bottle. It doesn't work. Not long after AN USHER COMES and makes me leave. Which just makes it funnier.
I can't walk. I am laughing too hard to stand up properly. I'm forced to navigate the stairs and hallway hunched over like I had to keep an eye on my kneecaps--you never know what those bastards are up to...
Once outside the theater doors, I collapse into a giggling heap of stupid on the carpet.
I'm crying. I can't breathe. I'm a little nauseous. It takes me 15 minutes to get hold of myself.
I'm pretty sure they thought I was drunk. Or maybe a crackhead.
At 20 minutes, I think I've calmed down enough to go back inside. I get halfway down the hall to the stairs, the giggles burble back up, and I must once again flee the theater.
This happens a few more times. I make it back to my seat when there's maybe ten minutes left in the film.
For years after, I can't even LOOK at a picture of Willie Nelson without giggling. The other thing I can't do is explain why it's so funny to me.
This is what I can say, "It made me a lot more forgiving of people who make noise during movies."