Last month, Mark, Mallory and I went to see Lincoln. As is the nature of our half-assedness, we ordered tickets online but left the house later than we should have for a crowded Friday night that also featured the new Twilight movie.
When we got inside the theater there weren’t many seats left and so we sat near the front. There were five rows ahead of us that were too close to the screen, then a wide aisle before the rest of the regular seats. We sat to the left of the movie screen behind the aisle – a small row with only four seats.
Directly in front of us was a ramp that led to an emergency exit.
Throughout the movie my eyes kept darting to the exit. Over and over. There were no seats in front of us, and so I surmised that if that horrible night in Aurora, Colorado was replicated, I would dive onto Mallory and Mark would likely shield both of us.
Twice during the movie, a guy got up to share snacks with someone he knew who was sitting a few rows ahead of him and I watched his every move. When friends asked what I thought of the movie, I said it was good and left out the part about feeling trapped for too long in a theater.
Ever since then I’ve thought about writing of that night. I thought about it again last week when there was the mall shooting in Oregon. I also thought that my anxiety level was reaching ridiculous levels.
I never fathomed it was about to go to a new place.