How One Ends Up At Coyote Ugly
First, you meet your best friend Danielle at Maggiano’s and have a lovely dinner and a few beers. Then you buy tickets to Superman Returns for the 7:45 show. Since you have time to kill, you check out the street fair at the Pavilions, but don’t buy anything because it’s all mostly crap. You do, however, buy some whey protein at GNC because that’s the kind that your PIM friend Erika told you was good for smoothies. Then you meander back to the theater precisely at 7:45 only to see that the concession stands is manned by retarded people (yes, I realize it is a very un-PC word, but sorry, there is no help for it in this situation). So, you and best friend decide to go ahead into the movies, because, seriously – the previews really are the best part. Then the John Williams Superman theme starts blaring in your ears and visions of computer-regenerated Marlon Brando dance in your head. The itch for popcorn + chocolate overtakes you and you miss a crucial Lois Lane/Clark Kent confrontation, but you figure out what happened anyway. You marvel at Kevin Spacey as Lex Luther. You ooh and ahh over the special effects and the hot kid that is playing Superman now – who is not only hot, but also pulls off some serious Christopher Reeve action. The tension mounts and THE BIG SCENE starts to play out… And BAM! – the damn fire alarm goes off and you are evacuated from the building along with about 50,000 other seriously pissed off people. You wait in line with the freaks dressed up as pirates (and finally remember that Pirates of the Caribbean opens tomorrow)… and get free movie passes to come back and see the last 20 minutes of the movie you just saw. You look around and say fuck it, and stroll over to Coyote Ugly to get a drink. You are invited to dance on the bar – but alas, you pass on that scintillating experience and leave room for the fat 50 year old chick who seems to think she looks hot with a thong hanging out of her jeans. But you DO get to see the waitress stick a man’s head in her crotch and pour a drink down his throat.
That alone, my friends, is worth the price of admission.