Story Time

So. Endgame. More specificallly how it almost killed me.

Not even emotionally. It litterally almost killed me.

My friends had arrived at the theater Friday night at 6. The movie started at 7. My friend and I had work so we were going to leave at 6:30. The plan was simple: we order our tickets online as we drive there and our friends save our seats in the theater. Good. Fine. Perfect.

Ha ha ha, poor nieve fangirls.

We left late at 6:40, ok fine whatever. No biggie.

We tried to order our tickets.

No data. No data so no tickets. Shit. This might be a biggie.

We yelled for a while. There was some swerving of the car. Then we called my friend Andy in panic.

She begrudgingly agreed and went to get them which made me shout “I LoVE YOU” repetedly to a very annoyed Andy. Hung up and we cheered like the family in One Day at a Time. (you know the cheer I mean)

This changed to screaming and groaning very quickly as we hit every red light and a transport truck pulled out in front of the car, my friend sped around it.

We got to the theater 2 mins before 7pm so we sprinted across the parking lot and then we couldn’t find Andy with our tickets. We went to the booth in front of the theater and, out of breath but happy, explained the story to the guy who was more or less laughing at us.

Long story short, after renacting Fast and Furious, we got into the theater with 15 mins of ads to spare.