JOURNAL: A Night at the Movies

THE CINEMA
Over the holidays, in search of novelty, I decided that I would go to see a Chinese musical (subtitled in Korean). The muscial, oddly enough, was phonetically spelled, in Korean, as "Perhaps Love," and had been heavliy advertised on Korean television. My curiosity was piqued, so I made my first foray into solo movie going.

I entered the theatre and discovered that the lobby was packed. Not only that, but there were many, many lines to choose from. There was an autoticket machine (all in Korean), a line to the pick-up window, and a "take a number" system pertaining to one of the numerous line-choices. There were electronic marquees with movie times listed, as well as a number flashing next ot the time in green. When the number got below ten, it turned red. I finally figured out that this number corresponded to the number of tickets left. Very clever; they should adopt this in the United States to save a lot of headache.

With some trepidation, I approached the "Information" counter. The "Information" counters in most businesses has the title spelled out in English, however most of the time all of the written material is in Korean. It is also the luck of the draw as to whether the clerk will speak or understand English. This one did, and was able to point me to the right, and as it turned out, shortest, line.

I got my ticket quickly and cheaply. My seat row and number were clearly printed on my ticket, and the auditorium number was boldly marked so as not to leave any doubt. Apparently in Korea, they use the European system of cinema seating. I wandered around aimlessly in my attempt to find the auditorium; there were no obvious signs, and it was only fifteen minutes until showtime. I found a "you are here" map, but it was, of course, in Korean. I saw the numbers corresponding to the auditoriums, and went down a narrow hallway where people were seated, apparently waiting for their movies. The doors were not marked, but I could hear movie sounds from behind the doors. I counted off seven doors from the front, and sat down, waiting.

As I waited, one movie let out, and the crowd spilled into the hallway. Something seemed a little weird, so I tentatively asked an intellectual-looking woman in English where my movie was. She looked at my ticket, then pointed me down the hall and back where I came from. I followed her directions; in the lobby, I then noticed a group of people waiting on a "pretentious modern art" staircase built for no apparent purpose other than sitting. There was a woman taking tickets at the top, but strangely, no line. Now feeling like a complete idiot, I cautiously approached the ticket lady. She politely turned me away, and pointed to the electronic sign above her head. The sign finally flashed my movie five minutes before it began, and in an orderly fashion, we filed in.

The seats were wonderfully cushioned and large, with just one minor flaw - they were spaced like airline seats. Yes, I am talking knee-cap smacking, leg room crunching, airline seats. There was even the half an inch reclining room!

After the movie, in orderly fashion, we filed out. The seats by the window in the outer hallway offered a breathtaking view of the Olympic Bridge and the Han River. The movie had been beautiful and romantic, even if I had to go by myself.