Busy Bees

Three Trees SOLD

Times are hectic and the days just don't seem to have enough hours in them.

My daughter had a belated birthday party in which she and several friends wanted to go see the new Harry Potter installment. It is a great movie and highly enjoyable.

The experience of organizing such an event, not so much.

I went early in the week with plans to buy the tickets to ensure that we would actually gain entrance to the movie. Imagine showing up with a horde of preteens and being denied entrance due to lack of seating for all the bodies you arrived with. Not a pretty sight to imagine and one I planned to avoid. My first attempt had me wondering around an empty theatre hoping to find an employee to sell me said tickets. It was a rather creepy experience. All I found were janitors who told me to return in 3 hours when they were actually open. I wondered why they would leave their doors open if not to allow the public in. The cleaning crew looked at me like I needed a brain adjustment.

At 7pm I arrive with hubby in tow with plans to spend some money. I was greeted nicely by some sort of a student who assured me that I would want the actor package and as she scribbled my name on a sheet of paper in a tattered binder beside a movie that was decidedly NOT Harry Potter sent me on my way with assurances that "All would be fine." Yeah, right.

Apparently fine for a childless teenager is somewhat skewed from that of an organized, in control, busy 25 hours a day mother with a horde of kids on her tail. I arrived at the theatre at the aforementioned time with only 1/2 the children in tow as it had started to snow and I, like many other mothers out there had to drive into town very slowly because our "I'll get done sometime soon, don't worry dear " husbands neglected to watch the weather channel and learn that the form of precipitation arriving would be white and not wet. Our studded winter tires sat nicely piled in their plastic wrappers in the garage and NOT on our cars as requested. Men. Insert a snort of derision here.

So I tried to explain to John or George (but who really cares at this point) that I was here to collect my tickets and my reserved seating in the back row as my daughter with perfect eyesight had requested. I wore new contacts for the event hoping to be able to see most of it with some sort of clarity. One would think that a 50 foot high Ron Weasly would be hard to miss.

Seems that Jim or Jack or Bob had never worked the cash register before so he toddled of to ask for help. Instead of dragging a mentor with him to aid in taking our money he repeated this performance for us another three times. After 15 minutes of "trot the lobby" we are joined by another teenager and a manager who thank the Lord above is over 19. He nicely tell us that there has been a mistake and that our requested seating has been given to part of the legion of Harry Potter fans who arrived 2 hours ago.

"I couldn't really move them." Smile. "At least not forcibly." Bigger smile. Obviously a Crest white user.

My son has mentioned to me that when I am not pleased with people that I should not smile. It looks rather scary when I try to smile when I am very angry. I figured the steam exiting my ears would have been a clue that my smile was not really sincere but a Canadian attempt at civility.

"Yes you could." I replied, as sweetly as I could muster. "Move them I mean. We did have reservations placed on Tuesday. We were here first." It was true. Justice out ranks squatters rights.

The manager stopped smiling.

"You want me to move them?"

"You want me to sit in the front row?" I smiled again. Connor shook his head and turned away. Audible groaning was heard, from the multitudes of girls who had waited all week for this movie and from the manager who would have rather dealt with a saber tooth tiger that endure another feigned smile from me. The line behind us was growing exponentially.

He scurried away to make arrangements and a duo of teenagers took our food orders. The inept Carl or Chris tried to ring in our order.

The manager arrived and flustering said "How about 3/4 of the way up?"

My daughter and her friends jumped on that as Anna whispered something unkind about my "special" abilities.

Yep. I had succeeded in embarrassing her and her friends and paid good money to do it. Lucky me and on a Saturday as well!

The worst part... I never got my food. I guess those teenagers had not reached that section in their education where they could successfully add. I guess it really is true when they say math is a lost art form in our schools. I am the one who made multiple visits to the theatre, paid out my money to view a movie I would have normally waited to view on CD and I am the bad guy. Moms get no respect.

I accepted defeat and sat in the movie reveling in the vivid colours that can only be attained from putting in a new pair of contacts and the belief that my pants wouldn't be tighter when I left the movie.