After we gorged ourselves with Thai food tonight, The General and I decided to go see a movie and ended up at Footloose at the ShowPlace ICON in St. Louis Park’s West End. We’ve done this a couple of other times this past summer, both times with free movie tickets and usually at earlier show times. The trick about this particular theater is the crowd you have to navigate through to get into the theater. Once you’re in, it’s safe. You can avoid the wobbling drunk women in their 40s who are window shopping at Hot Mama after a night at Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar and you can steer clear of the two bros we ran into tonight who were dressed all in black, complete with sunglasses on… at 11:30pm. They were either planning on robbing Charming Charlie or spending the evening carousing about at Sopranos Italian Kitchen.
Tonight, on our walk from the theater doors to the parking garage elevator, we had to navigate around to fresh piles of vomit. We got in the elevator with two girls/ladies. One was barefoot and complaining that she had to wear heels because she had chunky legs and the other drunk and not wanting to talk to Chunky Legs about the person that apparently didn’t text back when he said he was going to. We stepped over a couple more vomit puddles in the parking garage, one that had been halfheartedly hosed down. The chunks were gone, but you could still see what it was, you know?
And finally, as we were rolling out of the parking garage, I nearly clipped a couple of gals that were walking down the ramp, where it’s clearly marked no pedestrians. I guess you’d have to be able to read that word to know what it means. I had my window down, so I politely reminded them that it wasn’t a sidewalk they were stumbling through. One of the classy ladies looked at me and said/shouted/slurred, “SERIOUSLY?” and, yeah, I was serious, or I wouldn’t have said it, you dilweed. She gave me the finger, I called her the c-word and drove off. Normal Saturday night, right?
The thing about it being winter time is it’s a little tricky. In the summer, you can see the patios of people potentially getting trashed out of their mind at Cooper or the people hoping Toby Keith might actually show up at his bar where they serve beer in tiny mason jars and you can play cornhole on the dance floor. If that doesn’t make you want to pull on your Ropers and head to suburban Minneapolis, I don’t know what does. When it’s cold out, they’re all shoved inside and you don’t know about them until it’s too late.
I love the ShowPlace ICON. They’re never busy and you can pick out your seats before you get there. The staff is super friendly and they have butter flavored salt. I don’t know how else you could beat that.