Enchanting evenings involve all the proper ingredients, and rarely reach a pinnacle you might call "magical". Every once in a while however, they happen. I suggest trying this one on for size:
1. Gather close buddies, begin with a jovial wine tasting. Preferrably one you don't pay for.
2. Decide after some deliberation with (around, and in spite of) a drunk Texan-bachelor, decide to attend a found-footage festival with two of your favorite ladies.
3. Laugh until your tummy hurts while holding a beer cup that rivals the size of your head. Pass it to the left occasionally during "Hunks." We may be sitting on barstools in the "nose-bleeds" but the funny still seems to translate way back here.
4. Once the movie is over, (now this part may be difficult to orchestrate in many of today's modern cinema-establishments.) find a handle securely attached to a bare wall for no apparent reason. Pull on it until it occurs to you that this would make a truly unique photographic opportunity.
5. Capitalize on all the unique architectural features, ornate carpet, marble, dramatic velvet couches or various uninhabited corners that 200 year old theatre has to offer, and take pictures like you're a 16 years old! (You know, when you were having the best time of your life with your bffs, and you never wanted to forget the moment... yes, that's right, the braces and the stuffed animals too.)
6. Step six is IMPERATIVE. Open every door you come across. That's right Nancy Drew, explore like you've got a mystery to solve, or at least half an imagination.
At this point you've hopefully found the really dark, dirty, cave-ish type room with a rusty iron ladder that seems to head upwards for several stories. I'm fairly certain you know what to do: Climb it. Use your silenced cell-phones for flashlights, and don't let your buddies get snagged on grabsie, dangling extension cords. Be sure to marvel at the strange and frightening rafters high above the main theatre. Take a nice touristy pic. (Hey guys! I've just ascended willingingly into the physical manifestation of a Tim Burton nightmare! Weather's great. Wish you were here!)
1. Gather close buddies, begin with a jovial wine tasting. Preferrably one you don't pay for.
2. Decide after some deliberation with (around, and in spite of) a drunk Texan-bachelor, decide to attend a found-footage festival with two of your favorite ladies.
3. Laugh until your tummy hurts while holding a beer cup that rivals the size of your head. Pass it to the left occasionally during "Hunks." We may be sitting on barstools in the "nose-bleeds" but the funny still seems to translate way back here.
4. Once the movie is over, (now this part may be difficult to orchestrate in many of today's modern cinema-establishments.) find a handle securely attached to a bare wall for no apparent reason. Pull on it until it occurs to you that this would make a truly unique photographic opportunity.
5. Capitalize on all the unique architectural features, ornate carpet, marble, dramatic velvet couches or various uninhabited corners that 200 year old theatre has to offer, and take pictures like you're a 16 years old! (You know, when you were having the best time of your life with your bffs, and you never wanted to forget the moment... yes, that's right, the braces and the stuffed animals too.)
6. Step six is IMPERATIVE. Open every door you come across. That's right Nancy Drew, explore like you've got a mystery to solve, or at least half an imagination.
At this point you've hopefully found the really dark, dirty, cave-ish type room with a rusty iron ladder that seems to head upwards for several stories. I'm fairly certain you know what to do: Climb it. Use your silenced cell-phones for flashlights, and don't let your buddies get snagged on grabsie, dangling extension cords. Be sure to marvel at the strange and frightening rafters high above the main theatre. Take a nice touristy pic. (Hey guys! I've just ascended willingingly into the physical manifestation of a Tim Burton nightmare! Weather's great. Wish you were here!)
On your way out (if you make it, life intact) dodge the caterers and make for abandoned dressing rooms.
Once you've exhausted the interest of these, find the door that opens onto to the back alley. Giggle incessantly about your getaway. Head to a bar that feels like grandma's house and get yourselves a slice of Lemon Meringue pie to share... And a brandy Manhattan if you're still up for it.
All and all, continue in a similar manner until you've renewed your sense of discovery. Smile like you're a kid again. Find some mischief. Tell your friends.
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