VIP TreatmentAuthor: psp32 | Filed under: Uncategorized
Sharp white blazer and pressed black slacks. His black leather dress shoes shine, the result of long hours of careful polish. “Buenas noches, señorita,” the host smiles. “Buenas noches, señor,” I nod back, returning his smile and handing him my ticket. “Ah, VIP; right this way.” The host turns, brisk, a single sharp movement, and leads me away from the ticket stand, away from the popcorn, candy, soda and the army of other delectable treats particular to movie theaters.
I follow the white clad back, watching the flicker of shiny shoes, slightly mystified by the changing light around us. The host stops at a glass door, cursive letters embossed in gold upon it: Cinemopolis VIP. “Señorita, this is where I leave you.” He bows slightly and turns to walk away. Doubtfully, I stare at the gold and glass doors, a little intimidated by the simplistic chandeliers and white tables, contrasting boldly with the gold of the wooden floor. “Señor,” I call to him, “I go through there?” I ask, gesturing to my jean-clad self, scuffed sneakers learning to talk and hair flying, and then pointing at those fancy glass doors with their elegant letters and view. He smiles, “Yes, señorita.”
Well, okay. If you say so.
I walk at the doors which move to clear the way and am greeted by another sharply uniformed man: “Buenas noches, señorita. Bienvenidos a Cinemopolis VIP.” “Gracias.” I don’t say anything else for a minute and the man stands at my side patiently waiting for me. I work my throat for a moment, and ask awkwardly “Ok, what do I do now?” His smile is radiant, teeth competing with his jacket for title of most white. “Well, you place your dinner order and then we go to film and I help you to your seat. When your dinner is ready, I bring it to you in the theater, unless, that is, your movie starts later and you wish to eat out here.”
I look around at the people around me. Women wear heals higher than their skirts are long, peinados perfect, not a hair out of place, and maquillaje suited for a catwalk or photo shoot. The men are slightly more casual, but still elegant in light weight summer formal. I pull out my phone to look at the time. Ten minutes until the movie starts. “I’m good with ordering and sitting inside,” I say with a sophisticated nod and gesture towards the theater. The host grins, suddenly looking very young. “What would you like to eat, señorita?” I look at the walls of the dining room, were restaurants display their menus; there’s sushi and salads, Yucatecan food and steak, French food and Italian. “I want pizza and ice cream,” I announce louder than I intend.
“That’s my favorite movie food” he nods. “Really?” “Really. I’m big on casual for movies.” Me too! “So, what movie are you watching tonight, señorita?” “Midnight in Paris.” And we walk through the theater doors, along the red aisle runner and to the middle of the theatre, the middle seat. It’s my favorite seat for movie watching. The commercials roll and pizza comes as the movie starts. My host brings it on a fancy rolling table and puts my napkin in my lap, like they do only in expensive restaurants and movies. But, hey, I’m at the movies, so why shouldn’t things happen just like they do in the movies?