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Last night Laney and I met up at Pacific Place to see
Is This Thing On?, and we both really liked it a lot. I vaccilated between B+ and A-, and ultimately chose the latter—in spite of one particularly weird scene, as reflected in
my favorite of the user review of the film on Letterboxd:
Why did they all sing amazing grace? I thought I was having a stroke
I kind of get it. It was indeed the one moment in the film where I kind of thought:
What the hell?
Anyway, the showtime was at 5:05, and Laney arrived slightly late. I walked straight over there after leaving work at 4:30, which left me some time to read a few pages of my library book before going inside the theater on the fourth floor. Oh, I also noticed Johnny Rockets closed. I forgot to bring that up with Laney. That was the one restaurant up there that had been in continuous business for as long as I can remember, and it leaves maybe three still going up there, none of which are the original tenants of their spaces. I really wish better for Pacific Place, but they've truly been limping along since the pandemic.
Something weird happened with our seats. Laney had booked us in G17 and G18. Both of our apps showed these as our seats, but the row we usually sit in, to the far left in the front row behind the bars in the stadium-seating section, was J. My app still said G17, but that was the far-left seat in the back frow of the
front floor section, and it showed no booked seat next to mine. I just sat in my normal seat next to where Laney usually sits, which put us in J14 and J15 I think. My app did not say what seat Laney was in but did show her usual seat as booked, and I just sat next to it.
When Laney arrived, she said her app showed G18—a seat that didn't even exist in this theater. She theorized, almost certainly correctly, that the movie was originally in another theater room, and it just did a weird number to our seat reservations. All I can say is, AMC needs to get their shit together. But hey—no one else came to claim where we were sitting, so it was fine. In fact I think we saw maybe two or three other people even come into the theater. It's too bad for the movie as it's so good, but good for us as we didn't have to worry about being near people.
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— पांच हजार नौ सौ पचास —
When we left the theater, Laney just casually walked over to the bus stop on Pike, and I just followed. We took the #10 home. She got off on Broadway and I stayed on until 15th.
I did have to go back downstairs as soon as I got up to the condo, and I found a sheet of small tear-pad paper and some tape, so I could write a note to our mail carrier and leave it on our mailbox door. On Wednesday when I went to check the mail, the key broke off inside the lock. The broken-off piece is far too deep inside to be retrieved, at least not easily. Alan, our building manager, did try after I emailed him. I assumed he had dealt with this before; he said it's the first time he's seen it happen. He said I might have to contact a locksmith to get it.
I'm hoping I won't have to, as that'll cost a pretty penny, but we'll see. The whole apparatus of all the building's mailboxes is actually the property of the United States Post Office, so I'm unsure if this is something they need to contend with or if I indeed need to call a locksmith. This is the clarification I hope to get with the mail carrier. I left my phone number, said they could call or text, or just leave the answer on the back—just don't leave it inside the mailbox as I can't open it.
If there is no answer on it when I get home tonight, I guess I'll try contacting USPS by phone tomorrow. And if I get nowhere with that, then the next thing will be to try a locksmith. Something has to be done, though, and although we don't get a huge amount of mail each day, at some point the box will otherwise fill up.
After that, I came upstairs, reheated the leftover pizza I brought home from Action Movie Night on Wednesday (it was after that when I broke the mailbox key), and set about writing my movie review. Then, because I was too excited about the premiere and did not want to wait, I watched the first episode of season 2 of
The Pitt on HBO Max.
EDIT: Okay, well, the mail carrier texted me. It looks like my only option is to call a locksmith. He said I could also buy a lock to replace it the next time he's here "if I have some tools," but I wouldn't know how the hell to do that. Plus he's almost never there when I'm at home. Locksmith it is, I guess.
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[posted 12:35pm]
