The Ultimate Chick Flick

The women behind us brought cosmos in flasks.  The women in front of us hooted and hollered every time Big appeared on screen.  And there I sat, in the middle of the spectacle that was one of the most anticipated movie premieres in history.  Yes, I somehow "scored" a ticket to Sex And The City: The Movie on opening night, and while the film had its entertaining moments, it didn't compare to the scenes that developed off screen. Women of all ages came to the theater, most of them dressed to the nines in their own versions of Manolos, many of them drunk and overcome with the case of the giggles.  (Geesh, ladies, I know rules tend to get thrown out the window on "girls night out", but is it too much to ask ya to pipe down while I'm trying to listen to the movie?)  On one hand it was mortifying to think I was a part of the whole thing - packs of women high on triple sec can be utterly frightening.  But on the other hand I felt slightly empowered.  I wanted to know what's become of Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte just like everybody else and I was almost glad to be part of the night dedicated to seeing their stories through.  Even if I did have to strain through the entire 2 hours and 20 minutes to see above the elaborate pink boa of the woman sitting in front of me.