The tale of The Hills are Alive
The road to solving a problem like Maria is fraught with danger and excitement.
This year is the sixtieth anniversary of the release of The Sound of Music movie. In celebration, Fathom Events sponsored the film, newly digitally restored and remastered at local cinemas. Originally, the movie came out when I was just a small child, and since I lived in an Idaho potato field, I did not have the opportunity to see it on the big screen. So, I was very excited to view this grand cultural touchstone in person on the big screen. I looked up online where the movie would be playing and learned that the showing at Jordon Commons in Sandy, the same theater where I saw Wicked, would be most convenient for me. I thought, great, I found the seats there to be very comfortable and the amenities of this theater to be sufficient to supply my queenly needs.
After purchasing my tickets online, I made careful plans for my movie outing. It just so happened that the Golden Coral buffet in Midvale, which is located about halfway between Chateau Pap Smear and Jordon Commons, had just completed a redecoration project. If I have learned anything in my years and years of going to buffets, the one eternal truth about buffets is that you go where the new carpet is. So, I arranged with some friends to meet at the Golden Corral for a pre-movie meal. I gave plenty of prior notice to Mr. Pap Smear, informing him that he would need to escort me to the theater, where we would meet up with several other friends to revel in the music. I picked out a comfortable movie-watching caftan and a shorter beehive wig so as not to obscure the vision of those sitting behind me. I even scheduled us to leave the house early to avoid any last-minute mishaps. With a sense of nostalgia and excitement, I set out, determined not to miss a single note from this iconic film.
After checking the showtimes and securing my ticket, the anticipation built as I remembered the iconic songs and breathtaking scenery from the film, and I found myself humming “Do-Re-Mi” as I prepared to leave.
We arrived at Golden Corral and scored a very nice ‘princess parking’ space in the handicap section. This seemed like a good omen for a successful night. We were mildly disappointed that only the carpet was new at the buffet; the food was all just the same.
We arrived at Jordon Commons with oodles of time to spare. Oh joy! There will be plenty of time for me to stock up on popcorn and snacks. I thought this was going to be perfect. As I approached the theater, a sense of nostalgia mingled with excitement, knowing I would finally experience this classic on the big screen, just as audiences did sixty years ago. We casually entered the theater and presented our tickets to the attendant.
Despite my best efforts to plan every detail, the evening took an unexpected turn. Something was amiss. Our tickets did not register on the attendant’s ticket reader. A quick inquiry at the box office confirmed my fears: we were at the wrong theater. In my eagerness, I had confused the locations, and our screening was actually at the Jordan Landing theater across town. Why, oh dear God, why are there so many theaters with the name Jordan?
Determined not to let this mishap ruin the night, and with adrenaline propelling us forward, our entire entourage rushed back to the cars. As panic set in, I frantically checked my phone for directions, hoping that perhaps the showtimes overlapped and we could make it across town in time. Mr. Pap Smear, ever used to rescuing me from my usual folly, aggressively drove Queertanic through the streets as I yelled out the turn-by-turn instructions from Google Maps, hoping to make it before the opening credits rolled.
We arrived breathless and just in time to hear the familiar strains of “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria” — or, as the nuns sang with a wink, “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Petunia.” But in our haste, we were unable to stop at the concession stand and procure my requisite large popcorn and Diet Mountain Dew.
We entered the auditorium and our friends, who were already seated, frantically waved us to our seats. Breathlessly, they whispered the question, “Where have you been? We thought you might have stood us up.” Somewhat deflated but still determined to enjoy the evening, I settled into my seat with a sigh, comforted by the fact that I had only missed half of Julie Andrews singing The Hills are Alive. Even without my beloved snacks, the magic of the movie quickly swept me away, and I found myself completely immersed in the timeless melodies and heartwarming story.
As the familiar scenes unfolded, with my personal behaviors being securely entrenched, I realized that I had inadvertently begun reaching into the popcorn bucket of my neighbor. Thus, I had to send the poor long-suffering Mr. Pap Smear back out to the lobby to get me my essential movie snacks.
This story leaves us with several important questions:
- Just how many ‘Jordon’ Theaters are there?
- Why didn’t the new carpet at Golden Corral make the food taste better?
- How DO you solve a problem like Petunia?
- Should I consider changing my name to Petunia Von Trapp and becoming a governess?
- With “Trap” in my name, might that frighten the children?
- When the Von Trapps sang, “Climb every mountain”, were they referring to my breasticles?
- If finding out that I can do without a Diet Mountain Dew now and then, the most important question of all?
These and other eternal questions will be answered in future chapters of The Perils of Petunia Pap Smear.
