Chinese Buffets and Movie Script Endings

The problem with starting to tell a story and then not finishing it is that by the time I get around to finishing it, the story seems, well, already told.

But Monday’s tale looms.

Once inspired to see a movie this became the impossible dream. How to see a movie in a land without any accessible movie theaters where everyone obviously drives to anything that is remotely worthwhile?

Except the strip clubs. The strip clubs (which I am sure are worthwhile) are totally accessible. As is the Lucky Strike bowling alley right in the center of town. With the TGI Fridays and the Hard Rock Café next door. And about half a dozen wig shops.

And that, my friends, is downtown Louisville.

Then, my eureka moment - a bus passed me by. Of course! A bus! That’s how I get around DC so why not Louisville?

I asked at the theater. Which bus do I take to get to a movie? They pointed me towards a schedule posted on the wall. But when you don’t know quite where you want to go and where exactly you have to leave from to get there, a schedule won’t do you much good.

Somehow, that last statement perfectly describes my life. But I won’t get into that now.

So I started wandering around town and looking at the bus schedules posted at the stops. Still no help. Most of these described a downtown trolley route, which seems kind of silly to me when you can traverse all of downtown in about thirty minutes. Apparently, you can also traverse it in a trolley. Who knew.

Frustrated, I started to head home thinking I could make do with the Netflix I had with me.

But no! Come on! I managed to get around Europe when I was young(er) and fearless by riding busses. Half the time I had no idea where the busses were headed because everyone was speaking another language and like any good American I am hardly multi-lingual.

I remember getting on a bus in Strasbourg, France in an effort to get to my hostel which was way outside the center of town and managing with very broken French to get on the right bus, and even get off at the right stop which was still a twenty minute walk from the hostel, and yet I can’t find my way to a friggin’ movie? In Louisville, Kentucky? Where everyone speaks English? Sort of?

So I ask the people at the next stop I pass. Does this bus go to Bardstown Road? (Where I know the theater is that plays Indie films – yes, there is one in Louisville).

The women look at me puzzled. They are riding busses, right? So they must know SOMEHING about the schedule!

Mmmmm. Well. What part of Bradstown? Gee, I just don’t know.

Helpful.

So I ask at the hotel I am staying at. The people who run the place are not there but a girl who must be their daughter is.

Do you know what bus goes to the Mid—City Mall? (By now I have called the movie theater and they told me that they are located in, yes, the Mid-City Mall, and that yes – a bus stops in front of the mall, but no – they have no idea which one.)

The girl nods her head no.

Wait, which mall did you say?

Mid-City.

Nods her head no again, and hands me the schedule for the downtown trolley.

I don’t want to ride a trolley around past the six wig shops!! I want to see a movie!

So I go to the bus stop. I get on the bus, the number twenty-three which was one of the bus schedules that was posted at the theater. I ask the driver, Do you go to the Mid-City mall? He nods his head, yes! Yes! He goes to the mall!

Well, can you tell me when to get off the bus, I mean, I’m not from around here…

Really? Could you guess?

So a mere fifteen minute ride and I am at the Mid-City mall which is actually the most bizarre combination of a supermarket, a small public library, a quilt shop, a Chinese buffet, a dollar store and the independent movie theater. This is apparently the Highlands. There is great stuff around – we passed a natural grocery store, some very cute bars and restaurants, a Dairy Queen, and the Louisville Scientology center on the way there.

It was very exciting. The twenty-three bus has opened up my little world.

It’s really a lovely theater. They have one of those bulk candy stands, so I could get just a handful of sour patch kids and gummy worms without having to go for the full four-dollar box.

I saw Brokeback Mountain, thereby completing my Oscar nomination cycle. And I loved the movie. I can’t believe that the theater in Louisville, Kentucky was nearly half full to see the gay cowboy movie, and yet my father, good Northeastern liberal that he is, has resisted seeing this film. It’s really very beautiful. And about so much more than gay cowboys. Yes – the sex scenes were very hot. And there was some phenomenal kissing going on. But more, it was about the struggle to live a fully realized life where we don’t pass up our chances to live and love honestly. And about what happens when we lose that struggle.

I was really moved.

Yeah twenty-three bus. Yeah Mid-City mall. Yeah kissing cowboys.