Brokehead Mountain

So yesterday I called Teresa to say merry Christmas, and she invited me to join her and Jessica for a gay cowboy matinee in Harvard Square. (Teresa’s husband had no interest: “Come on, I saw Midnight Cowboy, what do you want?”) No way could I pass up that offer, and I figured I could while away some time in one of the Square’s many nooks before we were supposed to meet. I bought some beautiful giftwrap for $4.46 then nosed around Million Year Picnic and thought about buying that Chris Ware biography. The whole time I was there, the cash register dude pontificated about why he’ll never use a debit card (”It’s like, if I memorize your card number, then wham! I’m in your checking account, and there goes this month’s rent. I can’t afford to risk it, so when the bank sends me a card, that sucker gets cut up fast.”), but when I saw someone who had the hair and build (but not the ratty, disintegrating shoes) of an ex-boyfriend, I skedaddled. Just in case.

There was a long line at the moviehouse, but the show we wanted to see hadn’t sold out. As I started descending the half-flight of stairs down to the theatre and putting the two quarters of change into my wallet (Quarters! One-sixth of a load of laundry!), I somehow lost balance and skidded a couple of steps, tried to right myself, and did a full somersault, landing (rather loudly) at the bottom next to the theatre doors. An elderly woman who was trying to exit the doors acted all huffy that I was blocking her egress. “I guess I can go out the other doors,” she said, while my friends helped me gather my wits and $70 worth of change that had caromed all over the stairwell. Amazingly, neither ankle had twisted and not a finger snapped, but my left leg, hip, and both arms got fairly banged-up. After sat down, one of the popcorn jockeys came down the aisle and said, “I heard somebody fell? Are you OK?” I assured him that I was fine; Jessica said I should have told him that some free snacks would help soothe the pain.

The gorgeous Alberta scenery went a long way toward calm my nerves, at least. It almost made me want to go camping. Almost. I liked the film well enough, but found myself occasionally getting annoyed by the characters’ stupid testosterone.

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