Dear John

Saturday night marked the first time I went to a movie by myself. Yes, it happened and I'm not even embarrassed. It was pleasant-once I was seated. I found out Dear John was finallllllly playing in theaters here. All my friends were busy, but I OBVIOUSLY couldn't sit at home and not go to the movie. I finished reading the book a couple weeks ago (don't judge me) and have been anxiously awaiting for it to come to theaters in Costa Freaka.

So, I hop on a bus and make the trek to the San Pedro Mall. The movie theater in the mall is undergoing some major construction, so just keep this in mind. I bought my ticket and then looked around and was all "Shoot, where do I go?" cause the theaters weren't marked by number...due to the dumb construction. I walked up to the second floor, because all the other times I had seen a movie there the movie was playing in a theater upstairs.
So that decision just made sense. I handed my ticket to the ticket guy at the top of the stairs, and he told me in Spanish my theater was downstairs. So, I go downstairs and find another ticket guy. Keep in mind the construction. There are just doors, and you have no idea what theater is which. Even though my ticket said Theater 4, I had no idea where theater 4 was. I hand him my ticket to the ticket guy and say "¿donde esta sala 4?" He pointed, and I walked towards that direction. I saw a theater, and thought this must be it, so I open the unmarked doors and walk inside. I'm strolling down the isle looking for an open seat, the previews are playing, and then I feel someone tap on my shoulder. I turn around and it's the ticket guy. He said "señora" and then motioned for me to follow him. APPARENTLY, I had walked into the wrong theater. Woopsie-daisy. Thanks little ticket guy, for helping out the lost gringa!