batman, rick moranis, and a murder on walnut street

last week i went to the opening midnight preview of 'the dark knight'. we arrived two hours early to ensure we wouldn't be in the chiropractic first row. since it was my brilliant idea to arrive so early, i was chosen to hold our place in the snaking line while the rest of my party went next door to grab some beers and enjoy a nice sit-down dinner; leaving me surrounded by a sea of Kevin Smith clones. so i plopped down on the cold cement, muttered under my breath, and waited for my "friends" to return.

an hour goes by. encompassed by sixty minutes worth of mind-numbing references to Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and various obscure comic-book characters; my attention was abruptly diverted by a man who strongly resembled Rick Moranis.

he came bursting out of the theater using a hysteric tone normally reserved for emergency situations. "MOTHER!" "MOTHER!" he frantically screamed as he rushed towards the parking area.

everyone looks. do i call 9-1-1? what's happening here? he runs up to a car and rips the passenger door open. "GET OUT OF THE CAR!" he hurriedly yanks his mother out; revealing a woman who can't be less than 85 years old. she is obviously struggling to get out of the vehicle as he shoves a walker into her crypt-keeper claws. "WE HAVE EXACTLY TWO MINUTES! IF WE MISS THE PREVIEWS WE MIGHT AS WELL GO HOME RIGHT NOW! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

whoa. the blank expression on her face suggested she didn't hear a word coming out of his mouth, let alone where she was at the current moment. she had glossy eyes, her face was porcelain white, she had bright red lipstick randomly smeared on her ancient lips, and her hair was flame orange. if i didn't know any better, i'd have thought it was an homage to heath ledger's character.

she begins to take one incoherent step after another. you can see the son just fuming next to her. finally, he snaps and snatches her arm to assist/drag her and the walker toward the front entrance.
"why can't you hurry up! you do this to me every time! you know how much I enjoy Hellboy and still you insist on ruining it for me!"

wow.

once my friends finally decide to join me, we enter the theater and take a seat. the friend next to me gets a text message from her brother. without saying a word, she shows me the text on her cell phone.


SOMEONE WAS JUST MURDERED ON MY STREET. COPS ARE EVERYWHERE.


weird. i mean that's not uncommon news, living so close to LA. just to be polite and show that i care, i ask her where he lives. she stares at me for a moment before answering, "he lives three doors down from you on Walnut Street."

okay wait. what are we talking here? gang war on walnut street? serial killer? stabbing? shooting? lovers quarrel? is there someone still on the prowl? my mind begins a deep decent into freak-out mode. i immediately text my roommates. no response. great. they're the victims. i'm certain of it now.

and the lights go out...the movie starts. awesome. this is just awesome. as the audience excitedly cheers, a knot the size of wayne manor begins to twist in my stomach. i have to go home to a crime scene and explain to the cops where i've been the last four hours.

the movie ends and i drive home at 3:45am. as i get in the turn lane to make a left on walnut street, i see that the road is blocked by fifteen cop cars and unmarked SUVs. i take an alternate route, but find that it is also blocked by another half-dozen cop cars. i try to covertly scan the sidewalks for white outlines or blood spatter. it's too dark.

i detour around another set of police blockades and finally arrive at my house. i grab a butcher knife from the kitchen before locking myself in my bedroom to check the internet for an explanation.

it turns out a robbery suspect was walking on walnut street and a sheriff happened to notice him as he drove past. the sheriff pulled over to arrest him and the suspect ended up firing off a shot at the cop; who in turn fired back a non-lethal shot. no murder. no gang massacre. just some moron trying to shoot a Los Angeles county sheriff. (article can be read here)

and yet all week, every time a neighborhood kid lights off a leftover firecracker, i dive to the floor - determined not to be a participant in any ghetto shenanigans.