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Clandestine By Tanner Grubbs tgrubbs@kansan.com cine-philes
If candy could ever be considered contraband, then look no further than the theater. Many people, students alike, find the act of smuggling into movies just ordinary routine.
Photo Illustration by Tyler Waugh
All this action is making me hungry. Anything edible or drinkable can find its way into a movie theater. There's no better way to enjoy a sub sandwich than in the deep recesses of a dark movie theater.
As the last of the credits roll off the screen and the audience piles out through the doublewide doors, remnants of smuggled items remain for the cleaning crew of Southwind Theater in Lawrence to unearth—and Jon Kelly, house manager, has seen it all.
"It becomes a bit of a game for us, to see what we can find," Kelly says, casting a foretelling grin.
If movies could be ranked by potential to reveal unique items tucked between and under the seats, family-orientated films would certainly pale in comparison to those frequented by the college demographic.
Where the Bedtime Stories and Hotel for Dogs types will undoubtedly leave their marks with Ziploc bags of unfinished candies for the little ones, patrons of films like Pineapple Express and Step Brothers affirm an entirely different culture.
Here, we find random articles of clothing (a pair of shoes was found once); empty bags of microwaveable popcorn—pre-popped; an empty fifth of Jack Daniels; empty—and full beer bottles; and Subway wrappers.
Among this list of distinguished castaways, Kelly recalls a few finds worthy of honorable mention: An entirely-consumed 12-pack of beer—which continues to mystify Kelly as to how it was smuggled in during a warm, coatless day—and a small bag of marijuana found just outside the theater doors to the high-fest extravaganza, Pineapple Express.
Wine bottle on the loose!
Before seeing Walk the Line,Toronto sophomore Emily Knight and a friend quickly stopped into Goodwill. A pair of cheap husband and wife champagne glasses would complement their $4 bottle of vintage red wine perfectly.
Finding their seats in time for the previews, the two waited methodically for the prime opportunity to pop the cork without garnering too much unwanted attention.
Timing could not have been worse. At the peak of a tumultuous preview, sudden and unexpected silence ensued as the cork rang its trademark "POP!" for all the theater to hear. Yet all the two could do was laugh hysterically amid the mob of eyes weighing down on them.
As the bottle emptied to its last few drinks, and audience members lost interest in the mischievous pair, something historical happened.
"About a year after Johnny Gash hit rock bottom, we knocked it over," Knight says.
The nearly empty bottle of wine cascaded down an incline full of metal and sneakers like a Plinko chip.
"If people hadn't caught on to the laughing teenagers already," she says, "the clank of the cab-sav rolling down the aisles gave us away."
Thank god for the man-purse
... and French theaters. While studying abroad last summer in Paris, Leawood junior Collin Johnson and three other conspirators huddled around his chic man-purse on a side street and commenced to knock back a healthy number of swigs of alcohol before recorking the bottle and entering the theater to watch the Angelina Jolie assassin epic, Wanted. Their surreptitious ways, though, could have been avoided if they were only informed that a bar sat comfortably in the center of the complex.
Johnson, however, was pleasantly surprised to see that a young French couple to his left had hatched the same plan with a bottle of Jack Daniels.
But the movie itself, Johnson explains,"was
terrible even under the influence."
The next week Johnson repeated more acts of smuggling—this time stumbling into Hancock—with a few big cans of cheap Belgian beer and a sandwich.
"I did draw a couple of strange looks in the darkness when all the natives heard me continuously popping tops." Johnson notes.
One for the record books
Jamie Wenke, Topela junior, decided to up the ante a bit, past the usual pop and candy routine. Having missed dinner, her friends saved her a seat in the theater while Wenke casually strolled into Yello Sub and ordered
four sub sandwiches to go. Having an excessively large purse, in this case, certainly carries its advantages.
"The tricky part is getting into the movie theater;" Wenke says.
Wenke suggests that when attempting to transport such a cargo, it is important to rest your forearm over the top of the purse to conceal the goods. And if you're carrying candy, Wenke says, keep your purse still so the rusting of plastic doesn't give you away.
Not to let their appetite linger among the casting eyes of ushers (who surveyed the audience for the first 10 minutes). Wenke and company very carefully unfolded Yello Sub's trademark foil wrapping, ducking below the seats when taking each bite.
"I'm sure the people around us were amused at the sight," she says.
Getting caught, however, may be more difficult than smuggling itself.
"If the audience doesn't know, there's a good chance we won't know," says Southwind manager Kelly. JP
January 29,2009
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