In a Sea of Black and Olive Drab...

So...I saw Serenity for free. It only cost me my dignity, and since I have so little of that left, I figured it was a fair trade. If, like me, you've ever imagined a press screening for a movie you've likely had Tracey/Hepburn visions of serious-minded folk with steno pads and an air of self-satisfied education about them. Tongue studs and lack of bathing probably never even entered the picture.

The evening started off with a trip to the food court at 100 Oaks Mall. Like the rest of the second story, it's a ghost of its former self. If you want cookies, gyros or congealed "Chinese" food, you're in for the time of your life. Otherwise, it's back to the Blazer and over to Wendy's. The first hint I had that this was perhaps not a screening for the faint of heart was when I saw the motley crew of fellow attendees--and possible vampires--congregating around a several tables in an otherwise uncrowded part of the restaurant. I heard several references to "Joss" and much talk about gaming. Not the James Bond Speakeasy Gaming, but the Yo Mama's Garage I'm-half-elf gaming that I remember so fondly. I then realized they probably weren't packing the place out with bloggers.

At the theatre they had an armed (?) guard standing by the line. Dude. It was a Sci Fi movie. None of us are equipped to kick anyone's arse without instructions from our multi-sided dice. Sure, we may look like a gang of Satanists--but trust me. The closest we ever get to violence is when someone leaves the wrapper off a vintage comic book and lays it next to a can of Jolt. I was a bit skeeved at the sight of the guy but was then immediately at ease when I saw a man in orange that I knew I knew. Ahhh! A Blogger! Finally, I meet one of my cyberfriends. (And was that just the loneliest sentence or what?!?!!). I made him guess who I was, which really wasn't fair but I was still addled by the armed guy. Besides, I had a book with me. Dead giveaway. I really felt like a poseur talking to Michael because he's very into Firefly, whereas I am not. He was already in line, and since I didn't want to cut in front of anyone who might be inclined to eat me, I meekly moved to the back of the line in time to see Pam who nicely had agreed to meet us. She had a book, too. Good woman!!!! Except...she and Tim both ragged on my book and decided among themselves that it was the most amoral piece of trash ever conceived. Honestly, you two. Can't a gal read a book about a woman who gets engaged to her ex-boyfriend and then tries to find a new wife for the husband she's still married to?

Anyway...back to the folks. Pam & Michael both told me that I needed to get a pass from "the guy" before I got in line. Here was the moment I was dreading. Would they check my name off the list? Would they deny me access after my earlier snark about their intense ways? I had the email I printed and gingerly walked up to the service desk. I told her I was there as a blogger for my pass and handed her the form. She rolled her eyes, crumpled it up, threw it in the trash and handed me a pass. No list. No inquisition. Nothing. And I had really been looking forward to the cavity search, too.

After the disappointment of not spreading my cheeks or being tasered for sass, I got back in line in time to meet Sarah who thought I was fighting with her. I truly wasn't. But I will, if she keeps insisting that Romana is one of the better companions. She made the dreaded drive safely and spent much time talking with her lifelong friend Big Orange, while Pam and I tried to save a place in line for the largest and scariest man I have ever seen outside of the WW(insert current appropriate letter).

Inside, after a comedy of errors we met up with two more local bloggers--Pink Kitty and Elena. Of course, when we met we just assumed we were ladies who didn't receive the all-black-and-khaki dress code memo and consequently stuck out like a throbbing thumb in our pinks and reds. About 10 minutes into the conversations about our churches someone mentioned bloggers. I said I was looking for other bloggers (Cole?! A.C.?!? Where were you guys?!?) It turned into a very Liza-Minelli-Showstopper moment when we realized that we were all bloggers and knew each other from our blogs. Whee!

Michael, having also failed to get the dress code, brought his orange shirt down to us gals as we kibitzed about BSG, Stargate and the fact that The Rock looks like a giant sized human penis--especially with his shirt off. (Okay. Michael was gone for that moment. But it still happened.)

Then the lights went down, we watched the movie and I left with more friends and a better appreciation for Joss Whedon.