Jedi mind tricks keep nature at bay

Opinion

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 11/01/2016 (3563 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

A lot of fictional young people have been approaching me in the frozen-food aisle of our local grocery store lately to ask what life is like when your aging body begins to deteriorate.

I always give them a knowing smile, then ask them to speak up because one of the problems with getting older is you tend to develop an excessive earwax problem — but that is not today’s main medical point.

Today’s main medical point is growing older is a lot like that time when you were a little kid and your mom would zip you inside a cumbersome snowsuit before throwing you outside to waddle around in the subarctic weather.

As most of us can recall, the second you were zipped into your snowsuit, you made a horrifying discovery — you had to pee.

Well, kids, that’s what growing older is like. Along with the fact your formerly supple body now has all the flexibility of a frozen garden hose, it also becomes impossible to get through any normal activity — sleeping through the night would be just one example — without having to take at least one break to answer the urgent call of nature, if you catch my less-than-subtle drift.

This is especially frustrating when you are in a crowded theatre or concert hall and, as you stagger along a row of seats trying to make your way to the facilities, you accidentally crush the toes of all the younger people, who instead of offering sympathy glare at you as if their eyes were capable of firing death-ray laser beams.

It’s even worse when, like me, you are the size of Chewbacca, the seven-foot Wookiee from the Star Wars movies, who, based on the fact his first film appearance was way back in 1977, currently has a bladder the size of a cashew.

Speaking of Chewbacca, I started ruminating on this vital topic last weekend when my wife and I joined a couple of close friends and became the last people in North America to see the latest Star Wars instalment, The Force Awakens.

I refuse to watch a movie in a standard theatre because it is almost impossible for Wookiee-sized people to squeeze into normal theatre seats.

In normal theatres, you are forced to tuck your knees up under your chin and the person in the tiny seat behind continually kicks the back of your chair like a hyperactive child flying on a bargain airline.

So we went to one of the fancy, adults-only VIP theatres, wherein you cough up extra cash for the luxury of being allowed to consume adult-style beverages while luxuriating in an oversized leather recliner.

They also have serving personnel lined up against the walls to fetch your snacks, and I made the foolish middle-aged mistake of ordering a large root beer. When I was a kid, a large was just a large, but in the modern, plus-sized economy a large beverage now comes in a container that, when drained, could be used as a condominium for a carload of circus clowns.

When I got to the end of my giant root beer — this was around the time a slightly more wrinkled version of Han Solo bounded slowly onscreen — I used my straw to loudly hoover up the last few drops, which displeased my wife.

Me: “SLUUURP! SLUUURP!”

My wife: “Stop that right now! I’m trying to watch Harrison Ford.”

Me (pausing to think): “Honey, I really have to pee.”

My wife: “Are you kidding? Just use the Force and hold it in.”

So that is exactly what I did. Like a Jedi Knight who is past his best-before date, I used my mind-control powers to focus on the film as opposed to the pressing call of, well, you know what.

“Use the Force, Doug! Use the Force!” I repeatedly muttered under my breath, crossing my legs and re-crossing them, because that is a thing you can do when you are squirming in a roomy pilot-style VIP-theatre seat.

It made it difficult to focus on the plot of the movie, wherein new rebel heroes, with help from the wrinkly old guard, help save the galaxy from evil villains who will soon become best-selling action figures.

Amazingly, I made it through the entire movie, which is in 3D, which means I routinely reached out to grasp objects floating (OK, don’t say floating) in front of my face.

The second the credits started to roll — I do mean the second — I bolted from my seat like a stormtrooper with the runs, and, still wearing my 3D glasses, waddled at light speed toward a washroom in a galaxy far, far away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” my wife and friends shouted.

“I can’t take it anymore!” I snorted over shoulder. “I have to visit the dark side!”

For some reason, I think Harrison Ford would understand.

doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca