BAM! The hammer of justice comes down! You break the rules baby, and they'll burn you for it.

So I was adhering to my own health-imposed survival kit last night. I had a 200 ml bottle of Gatorade in one hand, and my film ticket for Stuart Gordon's "STUCK" in the other.

I'm walking into the doorway to the theater, and I turn to the ticket girl.

Eye contact.

I nodded, offered my ticket, and then well, it just happened so fast, let's see...

"You can't bring that in here."

"Huh?"

I take a look around, and she's talking to me.

"Me?"

"You're going to have to leave that outside."

I nod backing up a bit, then I'm trying to pass the buck--

I offer the Gatorade to Brandon, urging him.

"Brandon, stick this in your bag."

But he won't have it.

He looks at me, like some kind of leper and shakes his head, looking back at the ticket girl.

"Look," I stammer, "I gotta keep hydrated!"

True story.

"Yeah, cuz, uh, last year--"

But she doesn't buy it. Possibly because someone else tried to sneak a mickey of moonshine past her the night before.

Using my line!

"I can't let you bring that in."

Because adding the "I" to the beginning of this sentence means SHE means business.

For a second, in my imagination, I'm making a big scene-- holding up the rest of the line.

Yeah, so this next part *didn't* happen--

***

"WHAT?!" I'm starting to chuckle a bit, you know kind of psychotic-like.

"Do you know WHO I AM?"

Probably not.

"HUH?! I'm LIKE THE BLOG GUY!"

At this point, someone would be radioing security to stand by.

"YEAH! ME! BLOG GUY! ME!"

There'd probably still be other people pushing past me though, cuz I'm only 5'3, waif like.

"Who put this whole blog together?! AH? ME! THAT'S WHO!"

"That's not Shane." Someone who knows something would say.

"Er...No, not Shane! No... I'm not even that mysterious masked Midnight Madness Blog Reporter... But I'm on the blog, so I'm special! SPECIAL! CHOSEN ONE! PRIVILEGES! LET'S SPELL IT OUT! P! R!--"

And that's when, with the snipers in place, Colin would undoubtedly whisper into the walkie: "Take the shot."

THWIP.

Target neutralized. Nothing to see here. Cept a good movie!

*

Realizing the situation would likely escalate to this extreme, I grudgingly handed over my Gatorade.

But I muttered a passive-aggressive "Fine!". Yeah, so still a bit of a d*ck about it, I was. Sorry ticket tearer.

It only was in watching Stuart Gordon's film "Stuck" I learned a valuable lesson.

Because I get my morals from movies. Don't run over people and hide them in your garage, that never turns out fine.

But I also learned that for theater regulations, that bottled water is Okay.

At least that's what someone told me, we'll just have to see tonight.

I guess cuz if you spill it, it doesn't soak into the carpet and dry all sticky-like; bringing in ants, which eventually draws in the rats, which bite celebrities, which, in turn, shuts down the theater and ruins the film festival. Which everybody knows is one of the signs of the Apocalypse.

Of course, you know by now, I did this all for a reason! Yes! A Pius one. I had to test the security, for the safety and well-being of you all! That's how much I love you.

Uh, yep.

So uh, next year, I hear they're installing a popcorn detector.

Be good, people!