I left our apartment a little before 7 this morning, and I got home at 10 tonight. I am exhausted.
Snowie had some free passes to a movie screening at Pacific Place, Downtown. He invited Phillip and me to join him.
It was a movie about the true story of a gay rights group which, in 1984, supported the striking miners in Wales. I couldn’t remember the name of the movie, or if it was a documentary or a dramatization.
I left from work, caught a Link train to Westlake Station. I arrived at the theater ahead of either Phillip or Snowie. I found the line. It was where we’d waited to see Lucy. There was a small sign with the name of the movie. It was two hours before the movie started. I sent a text message saying I’d arrived. Phillip was right outside. Snowie was running a little late.
Phillip and I stood in line and talked about our days. Snowie arrived and said, “Why does the sign say…” (I forgot the name of the movie we were in line to see.) We were in the wrong line. My excuse was that I didn’t know the name of the movie we were going to see. Phillip’s excuse was that he assumed I was in the right line.
The movie we were there to see was named Pride.
Snowie went to the box office and asked. The line for Pride was on the other side of the mall.
We had great conversations while waiting in line, and in the theater before the movie, about books and television and Facebook and smart phones and Burning Man.
Pride was a terrific little movie. It was not a documentary. The story was uplifting, the acting was great, and it was well filmed.
After the movie, Phillip and I caught a 49 bus home.