Despite what my my self-induced, thrill seeking mis-adventures may imply, I place high value in my personal safety. This means I sport a helmet when I bike, wear a seatbelt even when I'm in the backseat of a car, and refrain from wielding power tools while under the influence.
All those safety precautions did not prepare me for an evening at the movies in Jack London Square. Last night, the Just Returned from LA Monkey and I decided to cash in our free movie ticket stub (granted to us after our last mis-hap at this same theatre) to see Corpse Bride. After munching my requisite popcorn while watching this stunningly mediocre movie, we strolled into the front lobby of the theatre.
I watched four little kinders practice their dance moves while waiting for Bathroom Monkey to come out. As we were about to step out of the doors, Always on the Lookout for a Deal Monkey noticed that they have parking validation. Before we could explore this tasty option we heard an uncomfortably close gunshot. I turned to look out the door as a bullet shattered the glass door. I thought to myself, "Hm, someone is shooting bullets into the theatre lobby." It was very odd.
There were a flurry of shots and glass everywhere. Monkey and I scrambled to the wall that ran perpendicular to the entrance. We wedged ourselves into the corner and were soon joined by two women and a man who instructed me to "keep my head down!" When I hear people say that on TV, I think, "dude that's so only something people say on TV." Since we live in a country where for the most part people only say things that are said on TV, we say these things in real life too. At any rate, it was actually good advice since of the 5 of us I was the dumb character who was peering out w/my neck craned. Don't ask why.
The shooting stops and this chunky white dude stumbles in streaming blood from gashes in his arms and shoulder. He's screaming that he's been shot and asking for the police. There's another guy lying on his back right outside the theatre. As the manager calls the police, I realize the 4 little dancing kids are nowhere to be seen. Frankly, I'm kind of relieved. I figure that if I don't see them bloody in the lobby it means they're hiding someplace safe. It takes the cops a couple of minutes to arrive. Meanwhile one of the women we we were hiding with is staunching the flow of blood with reams of paper towels that don't seem to be accomplishing much. Monkey notices the guy has a gun stuck into his waistband. I notice the woman who was checking tickets is crying uncontrollably.
The whole scene is calmer than one would expect in the aftermath of a shootout. Things only get rowdy when the manager calls for an evacuation of the entire theatre--people start demanding their money back. The staff were too stunned to deal. We're still roaming around dazed and a bit reluctant to step out into the dark. I'm not sure what exactly we were waiting for. Then I saw one of the dancer kids. His bright yellow shirt now had a thick stripe of blood. He was crying and tried to run outside when a cop stopped him. They were a little group of 4 and they were hysterical trying to locate one of their band. The kinders were eventually re-united with their friend and their mothers, but I couldn't stop thinking about how just minutes before they were dancing in front of those glass doors.
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