That Time I Shared Popcorn with a Stranger
In Seattle
I will always refer to this moment, as “that time I went to see Beauty and the Beast alone and ended up sharing popcorn with a stranger...”
Hours before my epic popcorn exchange, I was by myself aimlessly wandering the Seattle Center. I had just parted ways with an old friend who was visiting from New York City and contemplating my next move. That's when the life size Pacific Science Center poster of Beauty and Beast in Imax called out to me. It had been a very active day of seeing the sights. Lounging back while Disney songs and beloved characters from my youth played before me sounded like the perfect way to end the day.
I excitedly purchased my ticket, happily anticipating my childhood coming to life via the magical world of Disney. Unfortunately, I had half an hour to kill before the show began. Fortunately, the Pacific Science Center had an array of kid activities to continue to feed my inner child.
Somewhere in my glee of joyfully pressing buttons and watching what commotion I could cause by pushing said buttons, a giggle came from a woman behind me. I looked up to see a blonde, fair-skinned twenty-something women laughing and pointing at me.
I looked around, noticing for the first time the sea of children and tired parents around me. It was also then, it came to my attention that I was the only adult caught playing with the kid-intended science experiments. And yes, in addition to this, I was flying solo in my quest to see Beauty and the Beast.
I get it. It wasn't my coolest moment of life. What "giggles" didn't know was that my ability to be cool had left me in middle school and thus the need to be cool had vanished entirely after high school. I didn't care enough to give it any more thought than that.
I continued to play and so did her giggles.
After pressing the correct number of buttons, I made my way to the concession stand to make very important decisions. I gingerly perused the selection of movie snacks. Something sweet? No. Sour? No. Salty? Bingo.
Popcorn it was.
Then, my face fell. The smallest size available was also a rather hefty sized bag. Feel free to insert your own version of "white girl problems" or "first-world problems" or in my case "single, white girl movie-watching problems in a first-world setting" (I know, I know).
Still the fact remained, I wanted my single serving of popcorn. And now I was back at square one in the very important decision-making process of what it is that I wanted.
She then plopped the popcorn in my lap and practically demanded I have some. I even saw her sigh in relief, as to not have the burden of the big popcorn on her single shoulders anymore. Hey girl I get it.
As a disclaimer for men: this is just a small insight into the wild world of the way women think.
I left the line empty handed. A little disheartened of course, but hopeful that the movie would be such a delight that my popcorn troubles would be only a faint memory. I entered the theater and that's when I saw her.
Giggles boldly sat in the middle of the row of seats, unavoidable and sore-thumb like, she too was alone. And what's more-- she was holding a mega "small size" bag of popcorn.
She smiled at me coyly, as if she had been a part of the last five minutes of the silent Great Popcorn Debate I had had in my head. Then, she waved me over.
"Come... sit by me," Giggles said, in a thick Swedish accent.
I was just as surprised to hear her accent as to hear her request. In my head she had been American and rude and didn't like popcorn. In my head, she would be munching on something much less likable...like pork rinds or something.
...and had really bad breath. OK in my mind she was a horrible, fire-breathing dragon.
"OK," I said.
Because what else was I supposed to say? At this point, we had an entire movie to sit through together and hey, she had popcorn.
"You Americans like your popcorn," she said, "It is so big!"
She then plopped the popcorn in my lap and practically demanded I have some. I even saw her sigh in relief, as to not have the burden of the big popcorn on her single shoulders anymore. Hey girl I get it.
I then realized we had had the same conversation in our heads. The only difference being, her conversation had ended in a surplus of popcorn.
Giggles' actual name was Alessandria.
She was visiting from Switzerland with her boyfriend, who was 16 years older than her. She was 26-years-old and couldn't be friendlier. We spent the next 10 minutes talking about Switzerland, and Seattle, and whether she was neutral about controversial topics (my attempt at a bad Swiss joke).
After the movie ended we walked out together, passing the same kid-friendly experiments. That's when Alessandra's face lit up. She handed me her coat to hold, thrilled to have the support to do some experimenting of her own. And then I heard it, that familiar giggle…
And the realization filled me like the two hours of delightful sounds and images that only Beauty and the Beast can provide… I suddenly knew where those annoying giggles of the night had come from. Yes, it was one of those rare times in life, where Alessandra was laughing with me and not at me.
She had just wanted to partake in the child-like ridiculousness. Apparently, Alessandra and I shared the same truth. This truth being that, no matter what side of the world you are from, sometimes surrendering your adult-like behavior (if only for a moment) and allowing you inner-child to come out to play is the best way to be an adult.
Before saying goodbye for the night, we exchanged contact info. Later, I received a message from Alessandra making sure I had made it home safe.
Someday, I will travel to Switzerland and share cheese, chocolate or "shoco-lot" and maybe even some popcorn with my new friend, Giggles.