movie ninja
Like all superpowers that develop later in life, I had no idea that I had any special abilities at all until it was revealed unexpectedly. I decided right then and there that not only would I use my power for the Greater Good, I would use it often.
On the fateful day, I bought tickets to a movie with my brother. As we walked through the lobby, we were engaged in lively conversation, talking about the things that brothers discuss: video games, sports, and boobies. Later we realized that we walked right past the ticket guy without giving him our tickets. Essentially, we had just snuck into the movie. Unlike normal people, I had the power to sneak into movies — not quite as cool as laser vision or flight, but definitely better than my previous claim to fame, that I always sneeze twice in a row.
Since then, I have successfully snuck into over 15 different movie theaters, 4 museums, sporting events, concert venues, a waterpark, and an ice skating rink. Most notably, I watched part of a University of Texas football game standing on the sidelines (my brother and I donned our work badges from the UT basketball arena to get in). I also snuck into the most anticipated movie premiere of my adult life, the first screening of Star Wars Episode One. I have even snuck dates into movies without them realizing it.
Over the years I fine-tuned my craft and experimented with new approaches. You might think that having a friend open the back door to the theater is the best approach, but that’s a rookie move, plus one person has to buy the ticket. When that back door is open, a little control panel lights up and alerts managers to your shenanigans. If they think you’re trying to get away with something, they’ll make a big scene and flex their authority. They consider us “little people” and like to smack folks around when given an opportunity.
The easiest way is the simplest. Think about the setting. You have a guy who is making a living tearing little tickets in half. Usually he’s a high school kid who is zoned out, staring into space, thinking about what his next booger might taste like. Or he’s an adult with whatever circumstances that would have him tearing tickets in half at this part of his life. I’m not making a judgement call about those folks either, but I’m guessing they still live with their parents and are very excited about bunny rabbits. Either way, these aren’t FBI profilers — most of them barely have the motivation to keep from wandering off their post.
So you just walk right past them and don’t look back. It takes a lot of confidence to stop a person with meaningful strides and a fixed glaze. You make directly for the concessions, the bathrooms, or directly to the movie. Sometimes (approximately 3.4% of the time) a manager lurking nearby might call after you, but there is a surefire move to counter that: Look back, with your face obviously annoyed, and motion to where you’re walking, then go back to walking. The look says Hey I have a good reason to be walking here, and your brief interruption is wasting precious seconds of my life, mister. This method has only failed me one time, when my friends got all Chucklehouse going through, giggling and whatnot. My confidence wasn’t shaken — instead, it reinforced the limited risk involved. The worst case scenario is having to buy a ticket like everybody else. Like the little people.