by Brad

May 24, 2007

I PROMISED THEM WOMEN

Look into his eyes and you will see
That men are not alone on the diamond sea
Sail into the heart of the lonely storm
And tell her that you'll love her eternally


Wendy and I did the standard movie and a dinner last Saturday. We caught a late matinee of 28 Weeks Later, and as sequels go, it was a lot of fun. Not up to the original, mind you, but close to top-shelf material. Oh sure, there were a couple plot holes, but I didn't find them glaring enough to downvote the film. We discussed it afterward and we gave all those involved amnesty for the oversights. On a scale of one to five stars--with five being the highest--I give this zombie flick four stars.

I know the things in the "28" series aren't technically zombies, but it's close enough for me. If a person gets bit--or dosed--and falls down dead, only to get up again, then he/she is a zombie in my book. I'm sure there are plenty of Web sites and chat rooms on the Internets where you can debate this into the wee hours of the evening, but this isn't one of those places. Go to one of them and say your piece. The verdict is final here at this little spot off of Exit 149: Zombie.

Wendy loves all things zombie. I suspect if zombies actually existed, she would be married to one instead of yours truly. On the plus side, I do shuffle around the house that we call home a lot with a dead look in my eye, and the occasional bout of drool. Most of my answers are given in grunts or monosyllabic gibberish. Save for the semi-regular bathing, I guess I'm as close as one comes to being a zombie in this world. Oh, and the aversion to brains. I can't stand the brains.

The film screened at my favorite cineplex in Greensboro. It has the stadium seating--the best invention in contemporary cinema--with plenty of leg room. We got there early enough to grab my No. 1 spot--top row, directly underneath the projector, or whatever those things are called these days. The screen is at eye-level from this position and I guarantee you won't find a better seat in the theater. Wendy isn't sold on this theory, but she agreed to the seating arrangement this go-round.

For once, we got through a film in a theater without any major distractions from the other patrons. The biggest deal was a couple of jokers who would flip open their cell phones intermittently and the LCD screens would light up. Not a big deal, but points were deducted nonetheless. The last time we watched a film at this cineplex (Hot Fuzz, also a winner), a couple sat in front of us, causing all kinds of distraction. I was fuming from the start because there were tons of empty seats in the theater (I was also fuming because some people got there before us and took my preferred spot in the theater). They plopped down in front of us. Then this couple proceeded to pull out their own snacks. The first item was some kind of sammich that smelled like roadkill in August. They squirmed, they chatted, they rustled the plastic wrap containing their contraband snacks. I think they even pulled out power tools. It was almost like someone was pulling an elaborate prank on us.

So the occasional lighted display from a cell phone during 28 Weeks Later wasn't a big deal. Let's just not make a habit of it people.

After the film, we went to an Indian restaurant that we like. It's a family-run business and the food is always excellent. If you ever go, ask for the lamb mango (Tender pieces of lamb cooked with sweet & sour mangoes, spices and touch of ginger & scallions). That stuff rocks. The hostess wasn't around and a waiter, in soft-spoken, broken English, gestured toward the dining area for us to be seated. Normally, I can make out what he's saying, but my ears were still ringing from the film. The cineplex has THX sound, or something like that, which means the volume knob goes higher than most sound systems.

We walked over to a table for two, and as I held the chair for Wendy (I might be a zombie around the house that we call home, but I'm a gentleman in public), the waiter rushed over and (I think) told us to not sit there. Naturally, this got the attention of all the patrons in the restaurant. In a room filled with ugly Americans, we became the ugliest of Americans. Once upon a time, I would have made a scene and left, never to darken the establishment's door again. But I was in a cheerful mood and the food is really good. Staying seemed like an ideal option. The food proved me right.

The waiter is a nice enough guy. While his skill at seating patrons is lacking, I will give him major points for his promptness at refilling our glasses of water. I'm not a math whiz and I don't have the actual ratio figures crunched, but he refilled my water glass about two times for every time he refilled my tea. Wendy thought the waiter looked like Abe Vigoda, TV's Fish. I thought he looked more like Boris Karloff. We're both convinced we're right and until we drag someone into this establishment to break the tie, we've agreed to disagree.

I noticed the hostess showed up about 20 minutes after we arrived. The hour was marked so we will remember to show up around that time when we eat here again. There's no "if" about it. This restaurant is in our top 10. I'm not much for this Russian Roulette style of seating. No, I would prefer not taking a chance of having a waiter rush at me again, chiding me for my seating choice. The kids might dig this kind of dining, but it's not for me.


Write Brad at exit149@gmail.com

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