I first trekked to Redmond Town Center a few weeks ago to experience Gold Class Cinemas, which is a high-class recliner warehouse that also shows movies and serves cheese dip. It costs a bunch of dollars to watch a movie there, and—gotcha!—liquid cheese is extra. Fair enough, Redmond wealthies! Fair enough. Last week, I again trekked to Redmond Town Center to watch a movie in an expensive room with fancier-than-normal chairs, but this expensive room with fancier-than-normal chairs is NOT Gold Class Cinemas. It's called Big Picture Redmond.
Two! Two niche movie theaters for the fancypants elite in the SAME WEIRD OUTDOOR MALL. Now, I'm no economist (or even a person who knows one single tiny baby thing about economics), but this seems like maybe not the best business plan in our currently robust and thriving and livelihood-gobbling Great Depression part deux. You know?
Anyway, my friend and I were there to see Cheap Trick: Live at Budokan, a concert film that until now was only available on Japanese TV 30 years ago. But first, we needed to eat. "I talked to the lady at Big Picture," my friend told me, "and asked if they serve food. She said there's a 'limited bistro menu,' but that they 'concentrate mostly on popcorn, candy, and cocktails' and she 'thought we'd be happier exploring the many wonderful options in the surrounding mall.'" So, they have food, but please do not try and eat it. 'Kay. Again with the business plan.
In the surrounding mall, we settled on a restaurant called Pizza Schmizza, which is basically like a regular pizza restaurant, only with more schmizza. The Don Ho features giant pineapple wedges and a "sea of cheese." They serve chewy bread logs called "dipsticks." Both the men's and women's restrooms feature children's shoes creepily glued all over the ceiling. Everyone inside Pizza Schmizza seemed on the verge of tears. It was schmevastating.
And then, the movie. Did you know that Cheap Trick are my favorite band? ME FUCKING NEITHER. I learned a lot about myself at Redmond Town Center, it seems. The thing that's so satisfying about watching Cheap Trick in concert in 1978 (aside from the beautiful, fluffy hair) is that they are just good at their goddamn jobs. Nothing is exploding, there's no giant robotic iguana or a Pegasus on fire descending from the rafters and peeing confetti all over the crowd to signify rock and roll or whatever. They're just a really fucking good live band. Plus, there's Rick Nielsen (Dear Rick Nielsen: Can I interest you in a child bride named me?). I was shamelessly delighted every time he flipped up his hat or stuck a guitar pick to his face or wiggled or otherwise moved about in any way. I could have watched two more hours of that dude. He is my favorite schmuman.