Not that I have anything against Harry Potter movies. I have seen "Goblet of Fire" a number of times, still the best of the bunch so far. Really, the closest thing to "The Empire Strikes Back" in a long time. It's what happened after the movie that had me thinking we made the wrong choice.
We walk out of the theater around 1 in the morning, having typical post-movie conversation. Dean says he's not letting his 7-year-old son watch the movie, certainly not letting his 4-year-old near Harry Potter yet. I agree, this movie has some "Nightmare on Elm Street" qualities that children under 10 should not be exposed to.
Then out of the darkness, as dark as a movie theater parking can be at 1 in the morning, a drunken Hispanic man comes stumbling up to us. I say Hispanic because I was not sure if he was Mexican, Guatemelan, Salvadoran or whatever. All I know he was talking in Spanish and looking very confused. As best I could gather, he wanted to know where the movie theater was. I pointed to it, it was about 100 yards away from us, and he started walking toward it.
A few seconds later, he came back, just when Dean was telling me about his family's camping trip over the weekend. The Hispanic man was speaking to us in Spanish again and asking about the movie theater.
I don't speak that much Spanish, but I listen fluently. Dean has no Spanish-speaking skills whatsoever, so he's about as confused as you can be.
I am still pretty sure the Hispanic man is looking for the movie theater, but apparently there is something more to his request than finding it. We talk some more, with my saying "Si" and "Es verdad" a lot. He finally comes to the realization that we don't speak Spanish.
This frustrates him a little and Dean and I think we are either going to be stabbed or shot next. Instead, the Hispanic man starts telling us a story about how he used to milk cows on a ranch somewherre nearby. We were in Canyon Country, so working on a dairy farm was not entirely out of the question.
He went from cows to trees and begin to tell us he builds planters. He was using more hand gestures at this point to make it clear that he works on the planters and not the actual planting of the trees. Dean has no idea what he is saying, but I can make out about every third word.
After about five minutes of engaging tales of planters in Spanish, I convince the Hispanic man that it is time to say good-night. He apologizes, shakes our hands and walks away. Dean quickly gets in his mini van. I have to walk across the parking lot to get to my car. Why I didn't just jump in his van is still a mystery to me.
But I make it to my car unmolested, with Dean following closely in tow. I get in my car, Dean rolls down his window and gives me this stunnded look. He doesn't say a word. I ask him, "Do you want to know what he said?"
Dean eyes about pop out of his head. He has little insight about the conversation that just transpired. I explain to him about the cows and the milking and the trees and the planters. I also tell him I could be completely off because I don't understand Spanish that well.
We don't spend much time talking and saying good-night, for fear of having the Hispanic man return. There was little threat of that. The last time I saw him, he was walking to the end of the strip mall where the movie theater is located and walking around the back. I hope he found whatever it was he was looking for. At the very least, I hope he found a warm place to pass out behind the movie theater.
We should have seen a different movie. I have the feeling none of this would have happened if we saw "Transformers."