I walked through the front door of the brand new movie theater in Salem, Oregon, and scoped out the place. The smell of fresh popped popcorn filled the lobby, while the sound of movies playing in the background spilled from open auditorium doors. The two-story theater was clean and new; fresh yellow paint on the cinder-block walls, high commercial carpet on the spotless floors, tall glass windows reached to the ceiling, a concession stand on the left side of the lobby, with a full service deli on the right. The upper level was the manager's office, a coffee bar, restrooms, and projection booths. In all my years of working at movie theaters, I had never seen a more beautiful building. I asked the usher standing at the front door if I could talk to the manager. She pointed me in the direction of the manager’s office and up the stairs I climbed.
.My life was at a crossroads. Things had not gone according to my design. I had planned on attending school in Hawaii for my Junior year, only for it to fall through at the last moment, and found myself re-enrolling at Western Oregon State College and at that very moment looking for work. I had purchased a brand new pickup over the summer, and had truck payments, insurance, and of course, college expenses. In addition, I had missed the financial aid deadline, and would not be able to qualify for work study. I needed a job and a movie theater seemed the most logical choice since I had already worked at movie theaters before.
I introduced myself to Margaret, the manager, and we immediately built a rapport. She handed me an application, and after I filled it out she had her assistant manager, Renee, give me a tour of the building. Our last stop was one of the projection booths. I stepped into the tiny room, recognizing the familiar platter system with film spooling from it, through the projector and back to the platter. Standing next to the THX sound system tower was a man dressed in jeans, a white button down shirt, Justin Roper boots, and a black cowboy hat. He looked up for a moment to see who was interrupting his work. I was immediately drawn to his beautiful hazel eyes and dark brown hair and beard. Not the type of man I normally would have found myself attracted to—but there was something about him. Renee introduced him as Ed, the resident Lothario of the theater. I could see the color of red creep up his neck even in the dark booth. Then nodding politely to him, we left and headed back to the manager’s office.
A few weeks had passed, and I hadn’t heard anything, so I headed back to the theater. Margaret apologized and said she had misplaced my phone number. I thought it was odd, but said nothing as I wrote down my number on a piece of paper. A week later, she put me on the schedule and thus I began my employment at Salem Centre Movieland. On my breaks, I would sit upstairs in the coffee bar and study and Ed would come out of one booth door and head towards another, often smiling at me as he passed. Sometimes he would stop and sit down at the chair across from me and ask what I was working on. Over the next several months, we discovered we had the same interests and same friends and we started hanging out together. Neither one of us was looking for a relationship. He had just broken up with a girl he had been dating and I, at that moment, had sworn off guys—a statement I proclaimed a loud to some of the girls at the theater, which of course lead them to wonder about my sexual orientation. Whoops. Ed and I had soon became best friends. I could tell him anything and although he might have laughed at my antics, he never judged me. We came from two very different worlds; I was a city girl, born and raised, while he was raised on a cattle ranch in northern Idaho, but we both had a love for the theater (both movie and live theater), and even on our days off, we’d go to the movies together or go out for a late dinner with other friends from the theater. We were a tight net group.
I'm not sure when we began to look at each other differently, but one day, I was standing down by the front doors, tearing tickets, when Ed walked right past me. Not even looking up, he asked if I wanted to go out on a date with him. I quickly answered, "Love to." Not expecting me to say yes, he walked right into the glass pane door. Ouch.
The irony is that after meeting me for the very first time in the projection booth on that fateful October afternoon, he walked into Margaret's office and read my application. Seeing I had worked for the competition, he figured I was a spy and took it upon himself to round file my application. If I hadn't had gone back and asked why I hadn't heard from her, I would have never met and fallen in love with my husband.
I introduced myself to Margaret, the manager, and we immediately built a rapport. She handed me an application, and after I filled it out she had her assistant manager, Renee, give me a tour of the building. Our last stop was one of the projection booths. I stepped into the tiny room, recognizing the familiar platter system with film spooling from it, through the projector and back to the platter. Standing next to the THX sound system tower was a man dressed in jeans, a white button down shirt, Justin Roper boots, and a black cowboy hat. He looked up for a moment to see who was interrupting his work. I was immediately drawn to his beautiful hazel eyes and dark brown hair and beard. Not the type of man I normally would have found myself attracted to—but there was something about him. Renee introduced him as Ed, the resident Lothario of the theater. I could see the color of red creep up his neck even in the dark booth. Then nodding politely to him, we left and headed back to the manager’s office.
A few weeks had passed, and I hadn’t heard anything, so I headed back to the theater. Margaret apologized and said she had misplaced my phone number. I thought it was odd, but said nothing as I wrote down my number on a piece of paper. A week later, she put me on the schedule and thus I began my employment at Salem Centre Movieland. On my breaks, I would sit upstairs in the coffee bar and study and Ed would come out of one booth door and head towards another, often smiling at me as he passed. Sometimes he would stop and sit down at the chair across from me and ask what I was working on. Over the next several months, we discovered we had the same interests and same friends and we started hanging out together. Neither one of us was looking for a relationship. He had just broken up with a girl he had been dating and I, at that moment, had sworn off guys—a statement I proclaimed a loud to some of the girls at the theater, which of course lead them to wonder about my sexual orientation. Whoops. Ed and I had soon became best friends. I could tell him anything and although he might have laughed at my antics, he never judged me. We came from two very different worlds; I was a city girl, born and raised, while he was raised on a cattle ranch in northern Idaho, but we both had a love for the theater (both movie and live theater), and even on our days off, we’d go to the movies together or go out for a late dinner with other friends from the theater. We were a tight net group.
I'm not sure when we began to look at each other differently, but one day, I was standing down by the front doors, tearing tickets, when Ed walked right past me. Not even looking up, he asked if I wanted to go out on a date with him. I quickly answered, "Love to." Not expecting me to say yes, he walked right into the glass pane door. Ouch.
The irony is that after meeting me for the very first time in the projection booth on that fateful October afternoon, he walked into Margaret's office and read my application. Seeing I had worked for the competition, he figured I was a spy and took it upon himself to round file my application. If I hadn't had gone back and asked why I hadn't heard from her, I would have never met and fallen in love with my husband.
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