Popcorn

POPCORN

“I guess it first started when my girlfriend kicked me out. 

It was dark, though that can be said about most hours of a mid-winter day. With the luck that I had that evening, it was also stormy and pouring. A poor combination for somebody without an umbrella and no clothes to change. 

Someone once told me that umbrellas are useless, because you never have them on you when you actually need one. You only carry them around all day, hoping to put them to use, when the weather decides to be bearable after all. So you just add an extra object to your already heavy bag, not once to shelter but always to mock you. 

I was young back then, when that somebody made me realize umbrellas make fools out of people. That’s why I never bought one. And so, indeed, I never have one on me when I could need it. 

So going for a walk wasn’t a great option that evening. I was freezing. Standing in the alley under a balcony that barely kept me from the storm hitting from all sides, I didn’t quite know what to do or where to go. 

Thankfully, the glaring vintage letters outside our local cinema caught my eye: The Odyssey. So far, I had refused to watch that silly movie, yet another mockery – this time of the great Homer. Though I didn’t care that much about the flawed reinterpretation and more about the length. When did movies become a three-hour activity?

But time truly is relative. Because while I still had hope that I would not have to wander around town for ten years before she’d let me back in, I had a hunch that that night I’d not get another glimpse of our apartment. Three hours of no rain, a warm seat and buttery popcorn sounded like a great environment to plan my next move. 

I guess that’s what first brought me to the cinema: I literally wanted to buy time. And 3 hours cost me 13 euros and 50 cents. That’s 4 euros and 50 cents per hour for those of you that suck at math. Honestly, I put that into my calculator, so don’t worry, I’m one of you. (And if I’m not one of you: you’re not better than me, just because you’re book smart. As you’ll soon learn, street smart is what gets you places – at least for a while.)

I didn’t get that buttery popcorn, as a small bucket would have cost me another 4 euros and 50 cents. Which means they must make a profit of about 4 euros and 45 cents, and that hurts. But I did get myself a bottle of beer, which I saw as a good investment in forgetting, for a fleeting moment, what brought me here. 

Even though the movie had been playing in cinemas for a while, it was almost fully booked. The only options left: all the way to the front on the left or all the way at the back on the right. I had come here to relax, not for my neck to hurt, so I picked a seat at the back. 

The movie flew by and I couldn’t really follow. The forgetting didn’t work this time, so I had to suffer through my thoughts. All kinds of memories of our relationship came up, maybe subconsciously evoked by Odysseus missing his wife, but more probably by my girlfriend just having broken up with me. The time we first met (or so she thinks). The time we first had sex. The time we first fought. The time she forgave me for cheating a little. The time she forgave me for cheating a lot. The time I met some of her friends. The time we fought because she said I was rude to her friends. The time I cooked her favorite meal to make up. The time she told me I was too selfish to even remember her favorite meal. The time I asked her what her favorite meal was, shortly followed by a door in my face.  

They say life flashes before your eyes when you die. It seems then that a break-up is like dying in slow motion with a focus on relationship footage. It takes approximately – or, in my case, quite precisely – three hours to go through all the highs and lows. 

And after those intense hours, you’re so starstruck that you just stay in your seat after everyone has left. Until it’s just you and some popcorn scattered over the seats and carpet. It’s as if you’re glued to your seat or paralyzed or both. You just wait until the grumpy girl from the box office comes with her flashlight to check whether everyone has left. Or the security guy. Or anyone employed at this cinema. But it turns out that’s not really a thing here. Either the staff can’t be bothered or it’s not cinema policy – maybe it’s just what happens in movies. In any case: here you are, glued to your seat, one hour after the movie credits ended. 

I guess that’s what kept me at the cinema: the fact that nobody kicked me out. 

Slowly, I was able to move my feet again. I was able to get up. I knocked over a couple of beer bottles on my way to the exit of auditorium 2. I stuck my head in the hallway to see whether anybody was still there or coming to clean the popcorn maybe. But the lights were dimmed and I couldn’t hear anything. 

I went to the front door, and relief overcame me when I realized it was locked and I was locked in. I didn’t feel trapped, I felt free. Because if you do the math, then you will find that even if the staff comes back tomorrow at 6 am (which is unlikely, because the first show starts at 3 pm), you will go from 4 euros and 50 cents per hour to 1 euro and 35 cents per hour. And that’s a pretty good deal, I’d say. 

And let’s be honest: I didn’t really feel like taking a hotel anyway. Why would I have to pay extra just because she decided I fucked up again? Why is it that she can have the bed and the sofa and the shower and I need to find a friend out of nowhere where I can stay or spend money on a god damn B&B? 

So yes, I guess, at first, money was a motivating factor. And maybe something in me thought it could be kind of cool to spend the night at a cinema that smells of beer, popcorn and farts. It’s not like I was stealing anything from anyone. And really, isn’t it their fault for locking me in? I could have just fallen asleep during the movie. Or I could have had a heart attack, imagine! And they just left me there?! They should have checked. How irresponsible!

I tried to find a comfy position in my seat at the back. But my stupid mind kept racing. So I started exploring. I made my way back to the entrance hall and checked out their little poster collection. The Joker, Pulp Fiction, American Psycho. I noticed the fridge behind the counter wasn’t locked, but I didn’t dare open it. That really would have been stealing. Plus: I already had to pee, so I started peeing a little bit in every single toilet to kill time (2x men, 2x women and 1x unisex), finishing off by pooping in the men’s toilet. I was too scared to flush the toilets though, as I thought a neighbor or someone standing right outside the entrance door in the street could hear me and call the cops or something. The police, I mean. 

So I set an alarm for 5 am to flush all the toilets. Around 2 am I had seen every corner of this place. I found out that there are three auditoriums. Auditorium one has navy-blue curtains, 228 wooden seats, a black carpeted-floor and one dramatic chandelier watching elegantly from above; auditorium two, where I spent three hours but didn’t notice any of this, has sky-blue curtains, 163 velvet seats and white padded walls; and auditorium three, as I was pleased to learn, has old-school red curtains, golden wallpaper and seats that recline like sunbeds. I was definitely going to sleep here. 

But I was craving something else before I could close my eyes. Surprisingly, it wasn’t my girlfriend (or my ex-girlfriend?). It also wasn’t one of the girls I had cheated with, or a new girl altogether. 

I needed something salty.

There were packs of tiny pretzels, funky-flavor crisps and roasted peanuts. But I knew that with all those mouth-watering snacks, I’d risk people noticing something. I needed something a little harder to count. And, I mean, who takes inventory of popcorn?

First, I only took a handful. Then, I got myself a medium-sized bucket. They’re also not going to take stock of those paper buckets, are they? Two more big buckets led to a very thirsty throat. I relieved myself with some water, which I shoveled into my mouth with my cupped hand. But in the dried-out state I was in, I needed more. 

And that’s when I opened my first bottle of angry water. Sometimes, that’s the only drink that can relieve that deep, itching thirst. And there I was, having stolen not only time inside a sheltered place, but also sparkling water from the fridge. Now, I felt something else that was itchy, but I couldn’t quite place it. Anyway, I decided to finally get some sleep, before my alarm would go off.

At 5 am, I flushed all the toilets. At 6 am, I went to hide behind a big plant in the entrance area. At 6.09 am I fell asleep behind the plant, only woken up at 10.05 am by the cleaning staff opening up. They didn’t see my scurrying out. 

That day dragged on. I walked around town, went to all the town’s parks and even the parks of the next town. I looked at the flowers, I looked at the trees, I looked at the little ponds. But my mind was going in loops about one thing only: that cinema’s popcorn. How perfectly salty. How buttery and oily at once. There, it seems like there’s indefinite supply: an empty bucket is simply a bucket to be refilled. 

It’s not like I was planning to go back. But somehow, I found myself getting another ticket for the latest screening in the cinema again that night. It was the same grumpy girl selling me the ticket, and she didn’t seem to recognize me. There was also no “wanted: sparkling water and popcorn thief” poster on the wall. It started to dawn on me that nobody had the slightest clue of what had gone down here last night. 

And so that night, I stole a bottle of sparkling water and a beer. But only because I had inhaled four big buckets of popcorn. This time, I dared to poop in the women’s toilet. I set my alarm for 8 am and got rid of all evidence. 

The next da…”

“I think I’m getting the gist of it.”

“Wait, can I see what you wrote down in your little notebook?”

January 20.

Cleaning staff called at 9.55 am.

Arrival on scene: 10.15 am.

Greasy vomit everywhere in the entrance hall. Color: yellow.

31 empty bottles on counter and floor, 5 half-full.

All toilets used and unflushed.

Popcorn machine: doors wide open, empty.

Suspect: white, male, around 35, heavy scent, confused, talkative.