There are not many things that are fun to do alone. But one thing I know I can usually enjoy on my own: go to a movie. And so I did and headed to see Sex and the City 2 alone.
I was not exactly alone, since there were a total of ten other people in the theater with me. (I should have known from the crowded theater not to expect an Oscar winner, but then again, I knew that going in). All eleven of us were clustered in the middle section of the theater. There were two mothers with three young girls all probably under the age of seven (note to moms, if “sex” is in the title, it is probably safe to assume it is in the film as well). A few rows up from the moms was a man in his early twenties who probably was not there to see Sarah Jessica Parker’s latest fashion getups. Two seats over to my right was a young couple. And why in an uncrowded theater must someone sit right next to someone else? Leaving a single seat vacant in between me and them does not matter. She probably dragged her boyfriend over after having seen some of his testosterone-filled flicks and he owed her one. And finally, directly behind me, three BFFs who I am certain lived vicariously through the Sex and the City girls. Then there was me. I was there for pure research alone. No, seriously. I was interested in a mindless chick flick-filled afternoon. It was definitely mindless and I would not have minded missing out on it.
I am a fan of cinema in general for the whole package; from watching someone’s imagination and vision come to life on the big screen to escaping for two hours from reality and a sink full of dishes. I should have chosen the dishes, however, which were waiting for me two and a half hours later anyway.
I knew I had not picked an Oscar winner to watch, but when my mind kept wandering back to the sink full of dishes at home, I knew I picked the wrong movie. It was worse that I had low expectations to begin with. I probably would have been better off seeing something with vampires in it, or at least Miley Cyrus.
I could easier suspend reality for boys that turn into wolves, women falling in love with bloodsuckers and Miley Cyrus as an actress than I could during the Sex and the City getaway to the Middle East. Far different than the experiences I have ever had on my trips out there. Granted, I have only ever been to Israel and Egypt, but still. I did learn a lot about Abu Dhabi, however. For one, I did not know that the dress code in Muslim countries for women were either burkas, Aladdin-esque costumes or those that resemble Indiana Jones. Looks that belonged in an Aladdin/Indiana Jones musical revue in Las Vegas or a cruise ship. And the girls’ camel ride in the desert and visit to a Bedouin tent were nothing like I remembered on my camel ride from Israel to Taba, Egypt, but maybe Abu Dhabi is just that much more over the top. There was no camel spit blowing in the wind or sand storms in the movie. Perhaps my experience was less glamorous because I hadn’t been wearing heels on my journey. I will know for next time. I did learn, however, that if I ever ended up in Abu Dhabi (was thinking about making it my next vacation), my iPhone would have perfect reception in the most secluded desert areas. I have to say this made me jealous that they were just a little more tech savvy than good old Los Angeles, where I can not even get reception in my own home.
Another great thing to know about Abu Dhabi is that while all women have to cover themselves with burkas by law lest they be punished by public hanging, I believe, the Sex and the City girls were somehow excused and able to parade around in their barely there Aladdin/Indiana Jones-esque musical revue costumes. Didn’t they truly want to experience Abu Dhabi at its finest? (Even I wore a burka once in the blistering sun for hours, not because I was a Muslim woman in a past life, but because I was trying to earn my SAG vouchers while on the TV series JAG. Same difference. A burka in the sun is a burka in the sun. Sarah Jessica Parker should try it some time. Seriously.)
My ADHD thoroughly kicked in when one of the girls said she was going to have to have an “inter-friend-tion” and was upped by another one of the girls who said, “I will turn this inter-friend-tion into an inter-fun-tion.” I truly wanted to leave, but did not want to wake the sleeping couple on my side when I left the aisle. I was also hoping to stay and cover the little girls’ eyes and ears every time there was something inappropriate on the screen, which was quite often, as you can imagine…for a seven year old.
The movie finally ended (not soon enough), but no before the girls sang a karaoke version of “I Am Woman” in a country full of feminists, I am sure. The young pre-pubescent girls clapped and hollered as the credits rolled. I am sure they were just as happy as their moms that for the price of a movie ticket they learned more in two hours than they would have learned in their college years. (Saving their moms lots of money and hours of uncomfortable conversations.) They were happy, as was the man that sat alone, who apparently WAS there for the fashion. In the end, Sexfor one was not fun.