Beauty and the Beast: The Good the Bad and the Ugly Crying

I know exactly what you’re thinking. Why don’t Red Hots come in different colors? And why does Beauty and the Beast have an ending at all? Well folks, I don’t have all of the answers of the universe but let’s at least try to answer one of those two perplexing questions.

Before I get into what I thought about the whole shebang though, let’s recap date night. Originally, it began with high expectations, which quickly devolved into both my husband and I wanting to punch someone (that could have been the rush hour traffic talking), nearly descending  into getting dinner from Walmart like the classy people we are, but finally taking an unexpected turn that led into one of the best date nights we’ve had yet.

As I mentioned before, I was the perfect example of media purity when it came to preparing myself for Beauty and the Beast. I only watched the first trailer twice and didn’t touch it after that. When ads would pop up I would quickly scroll past them or exit the screen. When videos played on my Facebook newsfeed I looked the other way and paid it no mind. And finally, when my friends began talking about how amazing it was I requested that it only be spoken of in hushed, reverent tones and that nothing be given away to me.

This movie has spoken to me on levels only known to marine biologists and has had an impact on me since I was a girl. I knew I had to prepare myself for this event. The only advice my friends could give me was to bring tissues. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I’d had a stash of them ready for this event for a while now and that I’d already packed my purse with my “Beauty and the Beast screening kit”. (It’s safe to say that we’re still teetering on the “unhealthy”, or as I like to call it, “dedicated” line when it comes to this movie.)

Jared and I decided to purchase our tickets beforehand. The theatre we went to was one that allowed us to select our seats before we got there so we could have the best spots and not have to haggle people for them. We purchased them, checked it off our list for date prep, and went to bed. Finally, Thursday rolls around and it’s time for the big night. I’m already fully aware of the fact that when our friends come over to watch our son for the evening that I can’t even talk to them about seeing the movie without getting emotional…I also realize that this could be a foreshadowing of what’s to come.

Jared and I go out, excited to finally have an evening out on the town and to ourselves. I’m driving. During rush hour. We chatter about what we want to do for dinner and both say we’re up for anything. I decide to take a different road, which I forget has construction on it. We’re both still high off of the excitement of the beginning of our date so it’s no big deal. We keep talking about what we want for dinner as my husband scrolls through his phone looking for places. He suggests a few places, I reject them due to distance constraints. I suggest something to him, but then reject my own suggestions because it’d be nice to not eat fast food for date night when we could do that anytime. As I’m driving and as he’s scrolling, I get into the wrong lane thinking that I’m bypassing a bus but end up in a turn lane due to said construction. I get frustrated. We’re still trying to figure out what to do for dinner and we’re running out of options quickly. I finally manage to get the car turned in the right direction after taking a random backroad riddled with speed bumps. With each passing bump I get more frustrated, knowing that my taking a different road is now prolonging our travel time and eating away at our precious dinner time, which we still haven’t figured out yet. When I finally get the car on the right road and pointed in the right direction we begin talking about how there’s a Costco close by the theatre. I reject the idea at first, still clumping it with the category of “We could do that anytime and we should do something nice”.

As traffic continues to escalate the tension in the car we both settle on driving over to where the theatre is and scoping out the place. Fine. We drive all the way out there, the tension having subsided slightly, when I realize that in my haste to get out the door I forgot the cash envelope I’d set aside for the evening and Costco only accepts cash for food items. By this time there may have been a few colorful words being thrown around, but it’s hard to say what was going on when we were driving around aimlessly through a Walmart parking lot that was next to the theater. And I’m sure all of you already know that when you’re already stressed out and tensions are high, a Walmart parking lot during dinner hour is not the place to find peace and tranquility.


Jared and I are both grumbling at each other and at people driving around us, both mad at the traffic and the lack of dinner options. The only other place nearby is a Chinese buffet but neither of us feels like going now. Just on the other side of the theater though we’d passed a Dave and Busters on the way in. After some deliberation, it’s decided that we’ll go.

The parking lot seemed packed and there are people at the front entrance making it look almost like it’s for valet parking but I know that it’s not. We park and approach the building. A group of women get pulled aside by a woman and a camera crew to get interviewed. Jared and I both express our relief that they didn’t ask us because, you know, people.

The desk that’s sitting in front has a couple of people that ask us for our names. Jared tells them and they begin scrolling through a list. “I’m sorry,” they say, “I can’t seem to find your name.” “Oh,” Jared says, “we don’t have reservations. We just decided to try you guys out.” “Oh,” they say again, this time with a downturn of their voice, “this is our VIP event for our grand opening. Only people who RSVP’d can get in.”

At this moment I look up and see a guy standing behind the table but he seems to be working there. We both stare at each other and I swear I’ve met him before. I’ve had moments before where I’ve seen people that I felt like I may have met before but nine times out of ten they smile politely and say, “I don’t think so.” BUT THIS TIME, when I asked him if we’d met he said, “Yeah, I thought you looked familiar.” Turns out, we both took a PR class together at BYU-Idaho. No big deal, he just so happened to be the PR director for an advertising firm that Dave and Busters hired for the VIP event. We chit chatted for a couple moments and then Jared and I turned to leave.

“What do you wanna do for dinner?” asks Jared, which also happened to be the question of the evening apparently.

“Walmart deli?” I suggested in defeat and also in settlement.

We turned after hearing someone call out to us and saw the same guy I’d just been speaking with, “Just come on in,” he says while motioning to the Dave and Busters doors, “It’s fine.” After a little hesitation we went for it. Why not?

We walked in and there was music blaring through the whole place, staff at every turn, food and drinks on trays being carried around, and TV screens in either direction I looked. Jared and I were handed cards with “chips” on them (this isn’t Chuck-e-Cheese where we call them tokens). For the next forty-five minutes we played games, got free drinks, and ate appetizers all of which had been paid for because of the VIP event. We got a lot more than we ever bargained for and both of us were like kids in a candy store.

Side note: Apparently VIP event doesn’t mean that celebrities will be there… The more you know.

We finally get to the theater after having dinner and march our way up to the ticket booth. Jared flips out his phone so they can scan the barcode for the tickets we prepaid for. The girl prints them out, hands them to us, and we then march up to the lady who tears them. She looked at our tickets, scowled at them, and then said, “Sorry, but these were for yesterdays showing.”


^^^^^How I looked at that lady when she said those horrid words.

After further inspection, though, we found out she was right. In my tired stupor, I’d purchased tickets for WEDNESDAY not Thursday…


I apologized profusely to my husband, who was of course totally fine with the mistake. The lady took our tickets back to the ticket booth and then came back to us saying that they would exchange the tickets for a showing that night. That woman had no idea what kind of a miracle she had worked for me. I wanted to throw myself at her and hug her but thought that might be a little inappropriate and scary for her so I said thank you instead.

FINALLY, we have our tickets. We select our seats. We buy the popcorn, the drinks, the candy, and make one final bathroom run in preparation.


Can we just take a minute to appreciate the fact that these seats in this theater RECLINED. I pushed a button to my side and magic happened. The only thing missing in this theater are butt warmers. (Also, no, I’m not the kind of monster that takes a picture with flash during the actual movie. This was taken during the ads beforehand.)

*Lights dim. Trailers are over. And the beginning notes of Beauty and the Beast begin to play through the theater*


Goosebumps go up and down my arms and I try to contain myself. I do fairly well, all things considered.

There are parts during the movie that I get misty at, but I’m not using any of the tissues I’ve stacked up on my armrest. I begin to think that I might actually make it through this whole thing without breaking down. But then…

So I won’t give away any spoilers in this post just in case there are any of you who haven’t seen it yet. But I will say that there’s a particular song that Beast sings that I completely lost it at. When he first began to sing I was thinking, Ok, yes, I can see myself relating to this. Wait, he’s singing about-Oh, my gosh he’s saying that….*sobs uncontrollably*

This song had me crying all the way into the next scene. And even a little after that. By the time the movie was over and the credits began to roll, I was still. crying.

“Look at that, hun,” I said through a thick voice to my husband as I clung to his arm. “They even have the title in French. Isn’t it just perfect? Wasn’t that movie just perfect? And when he sang-Oh, my gosh,” wipes eyes again, “I can’t even talk about it, yet. It was just so perfect, babe. So perfect.” And on and on and on I went about how perfect it was all the while still wiping my face with my stack of tissues. We stayed until we were the last ones in the theater and the cleaning crew came in to usher us out. Even then I was still trying to contain myself.

All in all, Disney didn’t disappoint, in fact they exceeded my expectations. I’m already making plans to go see it again in the not too distant future, this time with tissues and a Snuggie because the seats didn’t have butt warmers.

Until next time readers.


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