The day dawned bright, cheerful, and lovely. This was an omen of badness. The morning was spent, as so many are, yelling at my sister to hurry up, or she would be left behind. This was, as she well knew, an empty threat, since my mother - clearly having had a moment of evil - gave her the card she'd used to buy the tickets, which would be needed to claim said tickets from the desk. I could have shoved a fork in her eyes and grabbed the card while she was distracted, but I might have gotten blood on my shirt, so I didn't. I waited. And yelled. Creatively.
We left a mere hour late and made it as far as the driveway when we noticed my neighbor's colt being odd. Odd as in "Nucking Futs", of course. He was running in tiny circles around a pole in his field and then rearing up to challenge it to a duel of honor.
I went in to investigate and found nothing wrong - save for the insanity - and was rewarded for my efforts by Brat Horse rearing up and pawing at my back.
So, one muddy hoofprint and changed shirt later, we depart, again, having called neighbor to tell him of insane horse and being told "oh he does that all the time." Right. That one's a keeper. And not at all neurotic.
And we're off. Only sister forgot something.
And we're back.
So then we're off again, pick up Chelsea, sister's friend, who is loud and amusing and tall enough that I'm constantly telling her to slump so I can use the rearview, damnit.
We stop for gas, and it is decided that sister will drive first. The gods laughed.
Down I-75 we go and are met with our first obstacle. The Jackknifed Truck of Doom. It is raining and sister has not driven much in rain. Truck has done a flipsy across the lanes and people are screeching to a halt left and right. Our lives flash behind our eyes as sister jams brakes.
All is well, it is survived. Suggest to sister that in the future when you start to skid you attempt to do so *away* from lane, rather than toward.
Onward. The rain begins in earnest and people immediately forget how to drive and began trying to operate their vehicles with their noses and knees. Or so it seems from the general competence levels. Traffic once again jams at an accident on the side of the road that in no way impedes traffic, but must be stared at.
Accident consists of little red car who crashed into tree. There are a multitude of large thin trees that would likely have simply bent over and taken it like an inmate who dropped the soap. The car, however, found The Short Fat Tree of Evil and was stopped dead with its nose all bent in. Its driver looked fine. (Which I could tell, because if everyone else was going to rubberneck, so was I damnit.) The Tree of Evil was laughing, I'm fairly sure. The car looked sad.
The rain decided there would be no more monkeying around and began to not so much fall as leap onto the car roof with gleeful malevolence. We chanted to ourselves that it was all for the love of Mal as the incompetent drivers failed to put on their lights and every few seconds one or another of us would shout "BRAKE!" at my hapless sister, just in case she missed the faint glow of the brake lights in the downpour. She took to punching at anyone who said it. Which we only really minded because it was taking a hand from the wheel.
We drove into welcome sunlight and sighed in relief. For five minutes. After that the gods came back from their smoke-break and proceeded to show us that the previous rain bouts had only been a summer storm.
We could see nothing in front of our own windshield. Sensible people pulled off to the sides all around us as my sister, who had never driven in rain like this, plowed on, because we'd left late - her fault, as we should remember and damn her for. Chelsea wept that God was emptying his bladder on us in a fit of disdain while my sister, whose survival of this can only be attributed to satan, ignored us and went around sixty in blinding rain. I prepared myself for death, declaring that my only regret was not having forked her in the eye, or seen Vera on the big screen.
Somehow, we came through. We all yelled in excited anticipation as we drove past the Mall of Expensiveness, which housed the movie theater and a multitude of expensive stores I could never afford and had never seen.
(Note, that's "drove past" literally. Sister missed the turn, and we had to go back.)
After a change of pants inspired by The Deluge and our demonic driver we went in to pick up our tickets, and handed off one of our extras to the very excited and nice Tim, who had a Hogwarts hat. We like Tim. He was there for hours before we got there, despite sister's speed demon tendencies. (We won't discuss the twenty seven times during the not-so-bad rain where I told her to slow down as the speedometer groaned its way past 95.)
We wandered the Mall of Expensiveness and then got in line, where dozens of people chattered about Firefly in that geeky, excited way that just makes your tummy have a happy glow because it's nice to be amongst your own kind. Sister at one point listened to a group discussing an episode of Firefly (the words "I love Mal's face in that episode" were used) and then leaned over and asked me what show they were talking about.
I think her brain was sucked out due to g-forces during the ride, and was relieved when it came back after she'd had some caffeine.
We file in a half hour before the movie. Or sister and Chelsea do. I wait outside for the girls who are taking our other two extra tickets, fidgeting because OHMYGAWDWHATIFJOSSISTHERERIGHTNOWORNATHA
Turns out they'd just gotten seats pretty much. No cast. No orgies. No orgies with cast (sadly). Girls who took tickets were very nice and one had fabulous shoes, but I forget which.
We fidget and wait and someone tries to get the Serenity theme song going, but it fizzles and doesn't work. There is adorable children in Serenity shirts and unfortunate mullets right next to us, which is cute, but worrying, since children and movies are unmixy things. We put Chelsea next to children. I'm sure it was on purpose on some level. We are devious like that.
Movie security does a spiel and points out the Universal Marketing Woman. Universal must have searched the entire earth for the most unenthusiastic woman to represent their movie. Seriously. She was a tiny little oriental-type woman with a face less expressive than my microwave. She spent the entire movie dully sorting through a small bag and looking bored.
I pass the waiting time by text-messaging maleficently repeatedly with squeeing. She turns many shades of green. I feel guilt, but not really, because I am too full of joy.
The movie begins with an adorable introduction by Joss. People began to cheer for him and are immediately shushed by everyone else, because we can't hear. Joss is funny, and people laugh in these short one-second bursts so they don't miss the next thing he says. It's the oddest laugh I've ever heard. Joss is adorable and funny.
The movie starts. There are no words for how cool it is to watch this with a room full of people as in love with this universe as you are. They laugh, they gasp, they cry, they cheer. They love. The room is rife with love. It is brilliant.
The movie ends and we filter slowly away, drifting to the various points of origin we came from. I seize the keys in my fist and grip them like a lifeline. A very nice woman who was in line with us runs after us to give us some of the keychains they'd put out, since we thought they were out and were leaving.
We sit in the car and make phone calls. I call maleficently and talk without taking a breath for fifteen minutes. Sister calls mother and is then called by Tim-who-got-our-extra-ticket. Tim is very happy and full of joy and thanks us for his bounty. We liked Tim. Tim is nice. I think if I'd wanted to, I could have gotten Tim to promise me his firstborn child for that ticket.
We stop to eat at Denny's, because what road trip is complete without breakfast foods at two in the morning? I drive home most of the way to perfectly, achingly clear skies. No rain. No flipsy trucks. No evil trees clutching dented cars. Of course not. we're not in a *hurry* now.
It is a perfectly peaceful ride home. Save for the snoring.
As for the movie itself? No spoilers still. It's brilliant and beautiful and wonderful. It's the show, only different - and the same at the same time. It's surprising and endearing and funny and it made me incredibly happy to see it had *really* gotten made.
I'm sure there will be people nitpicking it. I'm sure there will be people dissatisfied with minute details. I'm sure if I thought hard enough I could think of things I wished it had, or things I wish had been done differently - though not many. But I'm not going to. I'm going to be happy, and in love with my show that made it to be my movie.
It's good. I promise.