Dinner and a Movie, Adultism Style: In Which Stupidity Is Examined
Picture the following scenario:
I'm with my dad and I go up to the ticket office at the movies. There are R-rated, PG13-rated, PG-rated, even some G-rated movies showing. I can't watch the R-rated movies without an adult with me. (Which one is, but still.) Fine, I understand that; it is the law, after all, and I can't blame the movie office. I'm not an adult, according to the movie theatre(/er), right? Right. So far.
My dad buys our tickets. "Two for ----." Now, sure, I could mention that I'm a student, therefore eligible for the cheaper student ticket, but I think that the kid's price is cheaper anyway and besides I don't want to hold up the line. So, here's their prices:
Students--Whatever it is (I don't remember)
I, the fifteen-year-old, who is too young to watch an R-rated movie alone because I'm a kid, according to them, am with my dad, who is a non-senior adult. What is the price of our tickets? Think about it first, then continue reading.
Sixteen dollars. This is the price for two adult tickets, not thirteen dollars, the price for one kid and one adult ticket.
So, fine, I won't blame the theatre(/er) for the movie rating system, but I will blame them for their prices. Either a) I am an adult and therefore should be allowed to watch R-rated movies alone--by law--or b) I am not an adult and therefore should, legally, not be, but still be charged the kid's price.
Further. The "dinner" part of the title. Or, actually, since I'm on the west coast, lunch. (Do you East-Coasters still do the breakfast-dinner-supper thing?)
I'm not going to talk about the unfairness of kids' clubs ending at twelve, the earliest "adult" status given that I can think of in the United States, except for the eight-year-old crime-responsibility thing. I'm not going to discuss the "adult" buffet price. (Remember, kids, you're only adults when you commit a crime or when we're taking your money.) No, I'm going to talk about something different. Still odd.
Picture this scenario. A year younger, with some of my friends. We're all in high school, we're all obviously under twenty-one. We go to the Prescott Brewing Company, a local restaurant. We sit down at a certain table, which we all liked because it was against a partition with a little window through it, distinctive, fun. No problems.
A waitress comes up and asks us if we're over twenty-one. Of course not, no, we're not interested in your beer or whatever but your food. We're here for a non-liquid lunch.
She requests that we move. (To a table in an adjoining room, completely open, it's not very far away.)
We ask why. (Not to be irritating, we just didn't see why we should move.)
She said it was because we were all black and therefore had to sit in a different section of the restaurant. Er, sorry, flashback. She said it was because we were all underage for drinking and therefore had to sit in a different section of the restaurant.
She was nice about it, apologetic (no kidding! She just forced four people to get up and go to a different table!), so we all moved from the cool window-table to the more boring table she indicated. We ate, drank (ha, no, lemonades), and were merry. (The next day we all died. Ha ha.)
So I was thinking about all of this later. The reason for the restaurant's policy was to make sure they didn't accidentally serve the underage people alcohol. We weren't planning on ordering any, but fine. At the table we were at we could still have bummed some drinks from other people, if we were desperate or something, but we were planning to have a nice nonalcoholic lunch. Apparently they give people who can legally drink alcohol little shot glasses with free samples to try to get them to buy some, like Cosco if they had out-of-store restaurants, so it makes sense, even if it is irritating, to separate people too young to drink alcohol to make sure they didn't. This all sounds perfectly logical.
Except. Except that we were all obviously underage, which was how the waitress knew we were, so even if it were a different person serving us, unless blind people often become servers at the Prescott Brewing Company, that person would still be able to know, duh, don't serve us drinks. Except that the waitress was the same person who ended up serving us. Except that moving us all of fifteen feet would certainly not restrict our access to alcohol anymore than a small restaurant can successfully keep cigarette/cigar smoke from the smoking section from bugging the people in the non-smoking section. (Idle thought: do they ask smokers if they want the smoking section or non? And what would they say if someone smoking requested the non-smoking section?) Except that, in actuality, the restaurant's policy is about as perfectly logical as... er... something that isn't, actually, at all.
I'm not going to complain "That isn't fair" because you always have the air-violinist in the crowd rotely responding "Life isn't fair." How about "That's really, incredibly, amazingly stupid, redundant, and pointless" instead?