It was just over that halfway point that I realized this film was not going to be just sappy. It was going to be sad, the kind of gut-wrenching, on-screen personal agony that sucks the tears out of even the hardiest audience members. Unfortunately, I was going to be one of them.
Please, I know how this is going to end, so let me get it out of my mind before the waterfall starts. Oh, no, too late. Who needs the current rating system? I want tissue ratings, 1T, 2T, 3T or BYOB (bring your own box) …
A person can only swallow hard so many times before the liquid starts leaking from the eyes and nose. A hand slyly tries to sneak up the side of the face to wipe away tears under the pretense of scratching. That wouldn’t be so bad, but when the nose starts running, a person has few options: sniffle, blow, or silently drown.
Suddenly, I wished I were anywhere but here. The unbearable afternoon humidity outside the air conditioned film sanctuary was almost inviting as the movie progressed, pulling me deeper and deeper into the emotional turmoil. I twisted my head slightly to either side, up and down, searching the bare walls for anything to focus on but the screen. But it was extremely difficult as the movie reached its climax and did its job, compelling me to watch.
Mercifully, someone broke the silence with sniffles. Breathing again, I knew this was my chance to conceal my own by prying my rubber soles off the sticky floor simultaneously. But I was distracted by a nearby wheezing. Did it come from a few rows ahead, directly behind or next to me? I knew I had heard that familiar sniffle before as my shoes peeled themselves from the remnants of movie-goers past.
More tomorrow …
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