|I could fake the British accent… couldn’t I?|
Could somebody please teach the Belgians how to stand in line and wait their turn?
I forget, that as a Canadian, it is deeply ingrained from birth that you must politely wait in lines… for everything. Pushing and shoving is not the Canadian way.
Saturday night I had the brilliant idea to go see my true love… Harry Potter. My friends, family and faithful readers know that I am just a little obsessed. I won’t even comment on my slightly Mrs. Robinson-ish crush on some of the actors… (I try not to think about how old they actually are.)
We hadn’t yet been to the movie theatre in Belgium, and what better inaugural movie than the latest Harry.
We purchased our ticket with no big fuss and then mulled about the giant Kinopolis complex for a while. Our ticket was for 7:30. At about 6:45 we figured we would head to the theatre, grab some snacks and find a good seat. No dice…
Nobody was even allowed into the theatre area until after 7:00. Instead of standing in an orderly line, we were in a mad crush of people trying all trying desperately to get through the gate first. If there’s one thing that a good Canuck hates, it’s a line jumper.
I should also mention at this point I am not wearing sensible shoes. Thinking… hey, at a movie theatre you sit down the whole time, I was wearing cute but impractical high healed boots. My feet were killing me.
Finally we push and shove our way through the gate, thinking that we can now go and find the perfect seat from which to admire Harry… er, watch the film.
But no… A second mad crush has gathered around the still closed theatre doors. We must push and shove and step on people (cute boots come in handy at this point), to get to our seat.
By this point, I am suitably cranky. My Canadian sensibilities can not handle such disorganization. Andrew points out that these are Belgians we are talking about and how they act in line is exactly how they act on the road.
I will not be placated. What civilized society can’t wait in a proper line up…. Shouldn’t the theatre do something…? Where are the line up ropes? … The security guards? … The cattle prods? …
The movie starts. Suddenly all thoughts of torturing Belgians slip my mind. For the next two hours it’s just me and Harry, and Ron, and Cedric… Oh, … and stupid Hermione too.
I love Belgium…