Years before I would be escorted out of the movie theater by security for trying to sneak into “Kill Bill Volume 2” because I was too young to buy a ticket, I was spending time with a new school friend for her birthday and we decided to go see a showing of “Titanic.” This wouldn’t have been too much of a problem, except that I was supposed to be dropped back home around 8 p.m., and we snuck out to a 9:30 p.m. showing. My parents had no idea where their preteen was and were absolutely frantic. Meanwhile, I was sitting in the glow of Leo and Kate and that big blue diamond, shoveling buttered popcorn into my mouth. This was before cellphones, mind you, so when I finally arrived back at my parents’ home after midnight, I was in kinds of trouble I had not yet experienced.
“Titanic” is three hours and 14 minutes long, which is significantly longer than the kids movies I was used to, and somehow my brain had only factored in showing up at home around 11:00, which seemed less terrible somehow. My terrified and furious parents kept a slightly tighter leash on me after that, and we ended up moving across the country in an attempt to correct the direction my life was going. (While I thought it was a severe overreaction at the time, as an adult I understand how scary it would be if your 11-year-old came home at nearly 1 a.m., regardless of the reasoning!) I may have gotten in a lot of trouble, and I felt terrible about scaring my parents, but that night also made me see movies as a form of rebellion.
