The Academy Awards were coming up, and on Friday my wife wanted to see “Lady Bird,” one of the Best Picture nominees, but it was only showing at 11:15 that night, way past my bedtime. Not only that, but if we were to go out for a movie at that hour, we needed something to occupy ourselves between 6 p.m. and 10:30. We ended up watching a movie on Netflix, which is kind of like grabbing a bite to eat at home before heading out for dinner.
I asked our friends Bob and Cathy if they wanted to come along.
“Bob, Mary Ellen and I are going to an 11 o’clock movie. Want to join us?”
“Cathy usually doesn’t get up until noon.”
“No, I mean 11 tonight.”
“Wait, you guys are going to a movie at 11 p.m.? That means the film won’t let out until tomorrow. Are you writing an article for AARP on the lives of super-seniors?”
Bob declined the invitation, so it was just Mary Ellen and me. My concern about the evening proved correct. Mary Ellen kept poking me in my side.
“Dick, you’re dozing off.”
“I told you this would happen if we went to a late movie.”
“I know, but we’re still in the car on the way to the theater.”
When we arrived, I recalled that this particular cinema had state-of-the-art seating: Recliners with comfortable armrests and a place for snacks and drinks.
“Do not fall asleep this time,” cautioned my wife. “I want to talk about the movie on the way home.”
As we headed back later that night, Mary Ellen asked me what I thought of the flick. I told her that I really related to the part where the guy went to class and forgot to study for the exam and that he forgot to wear pants to school.
“That wasn’t in the movie, Dick. That’s one of your recurring nightmares.”
Yes, I had nodded off, but I was thrilled my dreams were Oscar material.
On Sunday night, we watched the Academy Awards. I have no idea which film got best picture. I fell asleep by 10:30.
