Partner and I go to the movies a lot. We see most of the blockbusters, as we both like bright objects and fast cars and big cute action heroes.
We did not, however, see “Contagion.”
Normally I love an end-of-the-world movie. In this case, however, with the gasping and the groaning and the blood gushing out of people’s eyeballs, I gave it a pass. I have just become too delicate for that kind of thing.
The gimmick of the movie, apparently, is that the deadly disease is spread from person to person, often while travelling. Just a casual touch or cough or sneeze is enough to give you the Creeping Death.
I don’t need to see that.
I already saw it on the flights Partner and I took to Orlando and back.
What can I tell you? It is like being trapped on Level Five of the Center for Disease Control. There was a woman sitting in front of us who, from the sound of it, was coughing up chunks of lung. There was a plump young woman from Maine with a desperate fear of flying sitting right next to me, heaving and sobbing and generally throwing fluids in all directions. There was a little girl who, I swear, kept wiping her nose on my sleeve when I wasn’t looking.
Partner came down with a head cold while we were in Orlando, but he thinks he got it from a co-worker before the trip. So far I’m okay (apart from the occasional heart attack, naturally), but who knows what I might come down with, after all that exposure?
My eyeballs could start gushing blood at any moment.
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