Confessions of the Cough-Drop Culprit

Mmmkay, last Thursday night when the clock struck midnight I was sitting in a packed out theather awaiting the most recent installment of the Harry Potter saga after standing in the rain for more time than I care to confess publicly (ok, it was about two hours). I know what you are thinking, but HELLO! I am not an HP die hard, let's just get that straight right now. No siree. In fact, I haven't even read the books. So there. Still, my seven other cohorts and I stood in one of eight lines at the Bridgeport theather clustered under a mold of five umbrellas -- five umbrellas perfectly woven together so as to keep everyone dry and warm.

As we entered the theater, I almost had my cough drops confiscated. Luckily and unluckily for everyone else in my theather I was allowed to keep my cough drops. After the show, someone about seven seats away said they could smell my cough drops throughout the whole movie. Sorry, dude. I would have just stayed home, but my ticket was paid for in advance, I was with a large group of friends, and hey, it was Harry Potter after all. Not that I'm a die hard or anything.

So, how was it? Well, I confess I've never really been into Harry Potter. I haven't read the books. After the nightmare-inducing-giant-killer-snake in the second movie, I swore I was done with HP. I would say that the HP movie with the dementors gave me nightmares, but it didn't. That's becuase I closed my eyes during that part of movie. Spared.

A couple years ago (or whenever the sixth HP movie came out), I recall the following conversation:

Bruce: "Hey, go get ready. I'm taking you out tonight. To a movie."
Ann: "Great! Which one?"
Bruce: "I'm in the mood for something light. So, of course, I chose Harry Potter."
Ann: "Something light?! Great. My nightmare quota for the year will be covered."

Oddly enough, we went to the sixth movie (which was good) where I promptly drank too much sprite, ate too many gummy bears, and fell asleep just before the Dumbledore/Snape showdown. I then returned home and spent the next hour throwing up gummy bears and sprite. Then I had a HP nightmare to top it all off. Oh yes. Good times. HP and I have not had a positive history, even though the sixth movie was my favorite. Everyone wanted to know how I lost that 20 pounds of scholarly, seminary stress. Ok, ok. Here's my secret. Deprive yourself of sugar for one month. Go to a movie and while being sucked into the plot stuff your face with gummy bears (this method is more effective if you pick a long movie). Then drink about a gallon of sprite. You can obtain this at the concession for about $200. Wait about an hour after the movie, and if you experience anything even remotely close to what I experienced, you'll never want to look at gummy bears, sweets, or carbonated drinks or dessert again. Forever. I went from drinking a coke almost every day to drinking a coke only in extreme emergencies (i.e. when I was car sick in India). So, basically I have HP to thank for scaring the crap out of me and ridding me of my coke addiction. Simultaneously.

As for the Deathly Hallows, I was completely sucked me into the plot. However, this go I had a steady stream of cough drops because I had been sick the week before. So whether due to the story itself or the cough-drop-menthol overdose, I felt compelled to rush home and request all the books from my lovely sister-in-law, which I will be reading during the winter break. Not that I'm a die hard or anything. I'm dying to know how the story ends, and if anyone tells me, it will get ugly.

Before I wrap this puppy up, I have something else to say. I'm a firm believer that confession is good for the soul. So I have a confession. If you live in Portland and if you were at the 12:20am showing of the Deathly Hallows at Bridgeport, you probably smelled cough drops emanating from the back of the theater. Hopefully you did not notice the perfectly timed coughing fits during the loud action segments. Well, it was me. I was the culprit. I know, I should have stayed home, but I didn't. I guess I'm more of a die hard than I thought. So there. I confess: I'm the cough-drop-culprit-turned-HP-die-hard, and I have to live with that. And so do you (that is, if you follow my blog).