That noodle thing.

From the top corner of the movie theatre, the mixture of subtle irony and overt, secretly shared enjoyment of an unreasonably large cineplex is best held. There is no other way but with buckets of sodies and popcorn. Way in the back was perhaps the only place, though, because the theatre was filled. All that stadium seating, conditioned air and buttered popcorn, sold out to what in that dim light at least sounded to be about a million unseen middle-aged women. And us, too, everyone come to see that movie with Alec and ol' Steve in it, and Meryl doing her usual. I insist that movie is magic. It split the moments between an absolute happiness of circumstance, the clowning film, and an overwhelmed laugh at all those women down in the rows below, bursting their seams at Meryl's sexual misadventures. Everyone cackling in the dark.