So, on Friday, The Dark Knight opens.
It opens at midnight, and while I haven't been this excited about a movie for at least six weeks, I will not be attending the midnight show.
First of all, I'm a new dad. Midnight is no longer a romantic time for me, but rather a witching hour filled with screaming, dirty diapers and breast milk. Hmmm, maybe that is a romantic time for some. Anyway, midnight holds no allure for me.
Secondly, I've only gone to see one movie on the midnight it opened. It was a little flick called Attack of the Clones. After exiting the theatre, I realized that I was going to be exhausted all day at work because of a movie that sucked ay-ass. If I'm going to be disappointed, at least let me get a good night's sleep afterwards.
Sorry, I just flashed back to my single days, there.
So, I'll be going this Friday, with a friend that will make many more appearances in this blog. I'm going to call him Scofe. We're excited, but we're comic book guys. We were excited when Daredevil was coming out. Not so much after seeing it, but still....
What amazed me was that I was at a pub the other day, eating lunch and reading that week's new comics. At this pub, the waitresses are all hot. Seriously. They all dress like they're five seconds away from auditioning for "America's Next Top Model" and they're all stunning. So, I'm reading Batman and my waitress says to me, "Is that the latest Batman?"
I look up and say, "Yeah," ready to grin sheepishly and turn on my best attempt at geek-nullifying boyish cuteness (getting harder in my 30s.)
She peers at the comic and says, "Grant Morrison's writing this, right? I love his stuff, it's so weird."
I'm stunned and manage to sputter, "Yeah."
She nods and smiles and says, "Cool."
Two things hit me after this exchange. One, it's a miracle I ever managed to string together enough wit to ensnare my wife, and two, the nerd revolution continues.