Adventures at the candy counter

It'd been a long time since I'd been to the movies on a Saturday night. I usually try to avoid them, as the crowds tend to remind me how much of the world's population I don't like. But it was a cold night, perfect for a movie, and Katie and I were determined not to let our sake-soaked dinner keep us from actually going out and doing something instead of dialing up something from those lying, thieving bastards at Comcast. So we headed off to the E Street Theater to see The Darjeeling Limited.

The E Street Theater is a fantastic place: nice theaters, and the best selection of movies anywhere. There's always something I want to see there. But they also kind of pride themselves on being...European. They serve beer and odd soft drinks and European cookies at the candy counter. It's kind of cool, kind of annoying.

Katie and I decided that, it being Saturday night and all, we were going to treat ourselves to some good old-fashioned movie candy.

"One box of Junior Mints," Katie says.

"Warmorcol?" the dude behind the counter asks.

"What?" I say.

The guy behind the counter looks at me like I'm the biggest idiot in the world and says, "Do you want them warm or cold?"

Maybe I missed something. I've been working a lot lately and have had to be a lot pickier about the trends I choose to follow, but since when did getting a box of Junior Mints include having to indicate how you wanted them prepared? And why the hell would anyone want their Junior Mints "warm"?

I answer him, "I dunno. Cold, I guess." The idea of getting "warm" Junior Mints wasn't appealing, partly because it was translating in my head as "warmed" and combining it with the theater's odd attempt at sophistication, I was imagining him popping them into a microwave and then presenting us with a semi-melted mass of mint and chocolate that we'd slurp out of a Japanese noodle bowl.

Instead, he reaches around to a small refrigerator and pulls out a box of Junior Mints and rings it up, his disgust at our lack of worldliness still clear. We walked away in a humored daze, wondering how we'd both traveled all over the planet, yet never were in a place sophisticated enough to offer their Junior Mints either refrigerated or at room temperature.