I went to a movie last night, and my feet are filthy. The theater floor was thousands of feet thick in dirt, punctuated by gravel. Nearly all of it was flipped on my feet by my flopping shoes.

I went to a movie last night. The evening was replete with newborn gnats and buzzing lilac in my nose. By the end of the movie, I had two blankets clutched around me and my flushed sleeping baby.

I went to a movie last night and ate popcorn home-exploded in our untrustworthy microwave. The theater didn’t mind.

I went to a movie last night and held my breath as cars rolled by, mere inches from my folding chair. There were hundreds of cars, packed with families who sat together outside on chairs and blankets, in the beds of pickups, in the rear cargo sections of minivans and SUVs. Coolers packed with snacks and treats were ottomans. Frisbees were tossed, horns were honked in unison at the command of a girl coming through the FM radio feed—utterly festive and friendly.

I went to a movie last night. Admission was $14 for our family of eight, plus the cost of our drive-thru dinners harvested on the way.

I went to a movie last night. It was Shrek the Third, not quite as funny as the second Shrek, but still very entertaining and over too-soon.

I went to a movie last night, held outside at one of the remaining 200 drive-in theaters left in the United States.

Find a drive-in theater near you.

camera phone, uck!