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Audacious Aunnie’s Adventures
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Standing in line at the Red Box waiting for a movie is like shopping with friends you never really wanted. The tedium of watching two people discuss the cinematic value of “The Hottie and the Nottie” outweighs the benefits of spending $1 for a flick.
As per usual, I went to my local gas station with McDonald’s attached to return my movie and discovered two crackheads hogging the machine, which was broken anyway. If the movie doesn’t get back in time then $1 becomes $2 and so on. So I drove to the closest Albertsons only to find a young Goth couple, black hair, black clothes, sad faces and all, debating on movie choices. I can never win.
When I was 13 years old, I was Goth. I had a huge crush on Robert Smith from The Cure, who was just a few years younger than my dad, but I loved his sad wrinkly clown face. I wasn’t bothered by the young couple’s Goth-ness, and it only semi-bothered me that their collective dirty, greasy, black hair had so much dandruff that I was pretty sure there was some lice in the mix that would come alive and jump onto my own head (note: if you dye your hair black, you must wash it, otherwise the sad, no-date thing is your fault) and that I was forced to stand in line and stare at it. What bothered me was their completely inane conversation because it was such a waste of my time and God forbid, I leave, come back the next day and have to spend $2.
She-Goth said, “Ew ew ew. Remember this one? It was so stupid,” and then giggled.
He-Goth replied, “Yeah, that was stupid. I fell asleep.”
Can’t you have useless movie discussion on your own time? Why can’t Red Box be like an ATM? People come, get their money and leave. No discussion. Strictly business. People should decide before they get into line. Have choices, have a plan A, plan B and even a plan C in place for emergencies.
I have been working on my public outbursts so I don’t yell at people, but I wanted to say, “Look Goths. I’m this other lady in line and I don’t really care what you watch when you are at home painting your faces like The Crow. What I do know is, if you don’t hurry up, I am going to shove you out of the way while avoiding the parasitic experiment on your head, return my movie, possibly slash your tires, go home and turn into an agoraphobic.”
The bad part about Red Box is you have to stand close to the people in front of you. If you don’t, someone else rushes up and steals your spot. Imagine being tied to a person at Blockbuster and listening to commentary you never signed up to hear. If I wanted to hang out with old ladies in Winnie the Pooh T-shirts and sweats, I would follow them around at Blockbuster and start up a conversation. I don’t. Generally, I use Netflix, but sometimes there is a lag between when the movies come and every once in awhile, I convince myself that the dollar is worth it.
Red Box should set rules. A sign should read, “Hello and welcome to Red Box. You have exactly three minutes to make a choice. If during that time, you make an idiotic comment or annoy those around you, you lose your chance. Not just for today, but forever. Choose wisely. Thanks! Love, Red Box.” Or, maybe I shouldn’t leave the house.
ANDREA OYARZABAL
Arbiter Columnist
