I realise it may be a little early in the year for such pessimistic thoughts, but please bear with me while I try to explain.
The other day I decided to venture out of my den for a reason other than my day job or essential shopping. Yes friends, I went out. Naturally, I was alone but the act of getting out and about took the edge off my loneliness and where better to go than the cinema. I can’t remember the last time I visited CineCave, but it must have been several years ago. Despite that, the cushions over the stone seats were exactly the same.
I chose a seat in the corner, out of sight and out of mind. With a basket full of popcorn to see me through the film, I relaxed with a spot of animal watching. I won’t bore you with the details of the film (it featured a fictional lion and his pride – highly unbelievable from start to finish), but what I saw of my fellow cinema-goers almost made me weep.
Where have manners gone?
I’m not immune to the benefits and allure of modern technology. I use it often enough for my digital art dream and, of course, this blog. There is a time and place for such things, and a dozen animals captivated by the tiny screens permanently stuck in their paws isn’t what one expects in the cinema. The talking too! To the young Zebras three rows down and to the left of me, there is such a thing as a whisper.
I know old creatures usually make such complaints, but introverted lions can share the sentiment. Thankfully, the uncultured animals quieted down when the film started and put their phones away. It was busier than I expected, and a couple of Gazelles sat in front of me. This wasn’t a problem – the seats were steep enough that I had a good view of the screen, and I settled down with my popcorn basket to enjoy the film.
Now, I’ll be the first to admit a lion eating popcorn isn’t a spectator sport. There’s a slight crunch of the popcorn, it has a tendency to stick to one’s mane etc. I fully accept some noise is unavoidable in any public space, however, I was not prepared for the noise that shattered my solitude in the second act.
Sluurp!
Not once, not twice, but three times! A slight slurp is, of course, necessary to ensure you’ve reached the bottom, but three times! My dear Gazelle, THERE IS NOTHING LEFT!
The Gazelle in question seemed satisfied she’d drained every last drop until twenty minutes later, when she tried again. It is not a self-filling cup. There is no more drink left than there was on your last slurp!
This mild incident brought several things to mind when I reflected on it later. The first is how overpriced CineCave snacks are that you must ensure you consume every last drop to make it worthwhile. My most prominent thought was how that young Gazelle’s desperate slurping reflected the struggle of life.
When we’ve hit rock bottom, are we not all desperate for any drop of sweetness we can find?
Something to ponder while staring at the ceiling of my den tonight.
Yours,
