My daughter lives in Jacksonville and drives down to visit once or twice a month. It used to take almost two hours, but after the Starke bypass, she has whittled it down to almost an hour and one-half. Can you imagine a Starke bypass? I guess that’s only a big thing to someone who must drive through slow-moving traffic, red lights and fast food joint-infested Starke. I remember Starke primarily for its Strawberry Festival and the place where Jim and I stopped for a Wendy’s frosty on the way home from somewhere else. And I met some friends one time at a little restaurant as the half-way point between here and there. The friend’s daughter was temporarily living in Jacksonville for school. Those are my main memories of Starke. Erica is happy to avoid it by taking the bypass and forever sings its praise to me.
Saturday before last was one of Erica’s visiting days. Usually, when she comes, we end up going shopping and then, for a meal somewhere. But this Saturday she had a different idea…the movies. Now, I’m not a movie person. In fact, prior to this particular Saturday, my last visit to the silver screen was to see Clint Eastwood in Trouble With the Curve and that was a long time ago, 2013, I think. I went to the Regal Royal Park which is the closest theater to me. The movie had maybe thirty patrons, and I sat alone in the center of the last row before the steps, which put a slight crook in my neck from looking up at the screen. And before that, I had gone with Erica and granddaughter Mandy to see The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and that played a very good while ago. They always sit on the last row at the top of the steps. Yes, I was younger then.
But I am usually game for anything and when Erica suggested a movie, I thought, yes, something different and quickly agreed. Then, she blurted out the movie she wanted to see.
“Oh, great! Let’s go see Barbie!”
“Uh, are you sure?”
She looked so excited about it, how could I say no? And that’s how we ended up on a hot 98 degree Saturday afternoon, walking into the Royal Park Plaza theater. As I was looking around, I heard someone call my name and looked to see Elaine and her hubby on their way out. I met Elaine when she was Membership Coordinator for Writers Alliance of Gainesville several years before, and we had become friends. She asked what we were coming to see.
“Barbie,” I replied.
Her smiling expression morphed into an “are you nuts” look, but she quickly recovered and told me they had just seen The Patriot and had thought it was very good. Then she nodded toward her sweater and admitted it was frigid inside the theater, and we might want to carry a wrap so Erica hustled back to her car and got a warm throw for us if the need arose. I waved to Elaine as she rode by on her way out of the parking lot and gave her a thumbs up.
Back inside Erica sprung for our tickets and a big bucket of popcorn and off we went to the theater with the sign, “Barbie”. We were the first arrivals. Asking me about the steps, I gave another thumbs up and counted fourteen to the very top, as I had expected. It was a much better view, but I would need to be careful and hold onto the rail…both ways. Mission accomplished with less trouble than anticipated. Those steps are about half the height of normal ones. Seated and munching and looking around, we observed perhaps twenty to twenty-five more people come in to see Barbie, mostly young couples or families with youngish children. Barbie is rated PG13. There was one family that had very young children, and I noticed that they left after some explicit language in the movie referring to sexual parts. Duh, it is a PG13.
After what seemed like hours of previews and ads for the concession stand, the movie finally began. And let me say right here, that was the longest one hour and fifty-eight minutes I ever struggled through. No, I did not care for Barbie! If you enjoy staring into your cereal bowl in the morning, please, go see it. You won’t be disappointed. I have no idea where all the hoopla for it is coming from. I saw no plot, all kinds of mixed messages, lots of neon pink absurdity, and nothing that actually made me laugh. Sorry, Erica. P.S. She did not care for it either. But the popcorn was delicious! If you went to see it, and enjoyed it, just disregard all this drivel.
