We’ve all done it. Admit it. You’ve walked into a movie theatre or arena of some sort – one with “No Outside Food or Drink Permitted” signs clearly plastered on every entrance – smuggling some type of snack in a well-concealed pocket, a purse, under your hat…whatever. Why should you pay an exorbitant price for refreshments when you can surely find something for far less at a local convenience store, right? 

It’s a great idea, in theory. What’s the harm in bringing a bottle of water, a candy bar, maybe even a small bag of popcorn or chips? Well, none, except when said container self-destructs in your bag before making it through the door unscathed.

Allow me to explain. I recently attended the Iron Man movie marathon screening at my local theatre along with my cousin and his friend. Four movies over nearly 12 hours, necessitating a stockpile of snacks, clearly. After all, we were in this for the long haul.

For the most part, we timed our mini-meals for the short breaks we were allotted between films. But when those 15-20 minutes weren’t quite enough, well, why let leftover food and beverages go to waste? Not when I had a rather spacious pocketbook with me.

Picture the scene: my pocketbook + a rather large, rather full fountain soda… oh, and my cousin’s wrapped hamburger thrown in for good measure. You do the math. No sooner were we halfway down the hallway when I felt the faint sensation of liquid trickling out of my bag, down my leg… OH NO, I thought. 

Of course, trying to remain covert, the first thing I did was crouch down and take a peak inside the pocketbook. It was a river of root beer. No, more like a gulf. I gingerly picked my belongings out of the mess and laid them out, sopping, on the rug in front of our theatre. I then took my bag and carefully walked it over to the nearest garbage and poured the liquid out. 

Great. Now I had a saturated pocketbook, soaked belongings – and no soda. I gathered everything in my arms and walked down the hall, past two perplexed security guards, into the bathroom, hoping that a mile or so of super-absorbent paper towel would do the trick. No such luck. Thanks to the era of modern conveniences, I was instead met with a wall of automatic hand dryers. Not a paper towel in sight. 

About 20 minutes later, I made my way into our theatre, having used approximately 12 rolls of toilet paper to absorb as much of the remaining soda as I could. I turned my pocketbook inside out and tossed whatever wrung-out belongings I could salvage back in. 

All that to save a few bucks on overpriced concessions. And I didn’t even have a beverage to show for it. 

My cousin’s hamburger, on the other hand, managed to survive the deluge untouched, dry as a bone.

Go figure.

Published: May 8, 2013