I was cutting it close.

In the UK, they take their movie start times seriously. When my bus got stuck in traffic last month, they turned me away from a showing of *All the President’s *Men at the Prince Charles when I was 5 minutes passed their cut off.

I respect it, I hate when people are climbing to their seats during the opening scenes.

The Prince Charles offers 1 pound screenings for members. Wanting to take advantage, I booked a ticket for tonight’s 6pm showing of *Crossing Delancey. *

Dumb dumb move. I have therapy 5-545 Mondays.

With the pound already invested, I had no choice but to giddy up. I cut the session a minute early, my sister and my quarrel can wait. Down the four flights of Science Library stairs, over to Goodge Street station, down another 136 stairs (they have it on the sign), and then fuck. I don’t know which train is going south. I miss it. Shit.

Oh well, next one should be okay.

Timing wise it was, but something or someone smelled terrible. If I could have held my breath for the two stops I would have. Fortunately I wasn’t alone. A woman got on and smelling what I smelled used her scarf as a mask. I could see on her phone over shoulder a calendar hold for “Crossing Delancey, 6pm, The Prince Charles Cinema”.

I chuckled. Tapped her on the shoulder and showed her my ticket. She smiled and that was that.

We both made the showing with time to square. It looked amazing projected on film. Amy Irving’s eyes are the bluest things I’ve ever seen. Whole audience burst into laughter at most things Bubby did.

Monday done, on to the week.