I sat in the car for a couple of hours with the radio blaring out. Rather than the superior DAB I’d normally be listening to, I’d discovered the FM part of the radio, and was tuned to 101.4 MHz FM. And I had it up loud. Brad Pitt’s dulcet tones went straight in my ear. I didn’t turn it down even when the lady arrived to deliver the pizzas. She even had a machine so I could pay by credit card, which she handed in through the car window as I sat there.
Nope, not some weird dream. This really happened.
I was sitting in my car watching World War Z.
Normally when I go to the cinema I have to sit there with my finger twitching yet avoiding the trigger of my AK47. This is because fellow cinema goers normally annoy me. They never shut the fuck up and watch the film. Instead they chatter away to each other or play on their mobiles. But not this time.
I was sat in my car at a drive-in movie theatre. No pesky little fecker was going to annoy me.
I’ve seen many a movie set in the 1950s or 1960s at many an American drive-in movie place.
Usually whilst the movie turns away on the big screen, the occupants of the cars watching the movie (or more likely, having sex) are slowly eaten by the monster.
So, I was understandably a little pensive as it got dark and impossible to actually see what was happening inside or to the occupants of the cars parked around me. I mean, the screams were coming from the film, weren’t they?
Anyway, this particular drive-in movie theatre occupies a large plot on an industrial estate not far from the exceedingly annoying Media City in Salford. So, those poor souls forced to work in that awful place can escape to watch the latest blockbuster from the privilege of their own ‘motor’.
I think the plot once housed a small factory or warehouse, but only the concrete floors and foundations remain. A large container mounted atop another container had a bit cut-out so the output of the projector could be aimed at the side wall of a building adjacent to the plot. An area on the wall had been painted white, and that’s what one had to stare at whilst listening to the radio.
There was a tension in the air as we all had to wait for sunset and the waning light of dusk to finally feck off before the projector could be run. At this time of year this means that the sequence (including all the ads and trailers) can’t start until about 10pm.
The, er, Box Office, is a tiny portacabin, and on entry to the site you get a list of Domino’s pizzas and ice cream available, or they have popcorn and ‘choglits’ already, and you leave them your pizza order to be delivered by them directly to your car some 20 minutes after the film starts (Could this be annoying? It didn’t seem to be). Of course, nobody’s stopping you bringing your own, but that’s cheating, innit.
Sitting in the car for hours is maybe not the most comfortable thing to do, but it is fun. I’m going again. We might even park next to you!
More info at http://www.route66driveincinemas.co.uk
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