The Passion of the Travis

Let me tell you a little story about the time I went and saw “The Passion of the Christ”. This is a true story....promise.

My Girlfriend at the time had (and still has) a ridiculously fanatical religious family. (This story already has a lot of momentum) Her parents sat in line at the theatre ALL day to buy tickets to see the movie for everyone in their “church”, and for some reason they bought one for me. Normally they would pretend that they forgot about me and that they were sorry…”next time, though!” Whatever, they decided to give me more experience with their nutty-ass-fundamentalist-bullshit and told me that God said, “It is time to include Travis.” They said that God said…don’t make me repeat that. Well great, I’m glad that when they hear voices they do the same thing I do…act on it. For them, the voice is God, and a good thing. For me the voice is not God and makes me take a piss on my clothes. “Hey Trav, look, the clothes hamper has a lid just like the toilet” (true story for another day) Picture this: It is day after the movie premiered world wide. I’m going with 30 or so tongue-speaking-god-channeling-right-path-seeking Christians. I am still me.

I’m sitting in a movie theatre filled to the brim. Packed. Loaded. The normal jovial experience of seeing a movie shared by everyone. Difference is? It’s an after school youth group and a middle aged bible study circle combined with a third element that is normally not there…fun.

Everyone is so excited.

My insides are screaming with laughter and hatred.

As the movie starts, everyone is shushing and reminding their neighbors to turnoff their cell phones. Then begins the “drudgery”. I won’t make the same jokes about him falling down a lot, but jeepers creepers he falls down a lot and it is in a super slow motion that is making you make faces of intense anticipation. Mouth hung open. Cat ‘o’ nine tails, crown of thorns, blood, all that shit. What is happening on the screen is only half of what is going on. With every blow to Jesus from the Roman guards, people are wincing as if they are a horse in the Kentucky Derby. I hear a man wearing a short sleeved shirt with a tie and pocket protector (no shit), whisper, “That must have hurt.” My Girlfriend is clutching a dripping Kleenex, crying, and reaching for my hand to hold. When she can’t find my hand, she looks at me in the bright light of some sunlit desert scene, only to find that I’m contorting my face with my fingertips and pressing one nostril closed at a time while spreading my eyelids really wide. I’m caught, so I turn to her and in my best Bruce Willis, I say “poor bastard”.

I’m now being shushed by her mother and getting the hairy eyeball from her dad. I’m wiggling uncomfortably in my chair from boredom caused by the shitty movie and my back is sore from pushing my Van home the night before to avoid a DUI. (true story for another time) Then in front of my eyes, a few of the nut balls are now raising their hands toward the silver screen, crying and moaning. They are trying to touch Jesus. It is a fucking movie! What the fuck!? I’m sitting in the middle of “Circus-Ridiculous-Obnoxious” and I’m in the middle of pretending this whole scene is happening in the 20’s with gangster mob voices. “See hear?, I’m Jesus, ya hear? Don’t make trouble see? Or I’ll fashion you some cement galoshes. See?”

Then it happened. It was bound to happen. Unavoidable. No way it wasn’t going to occur.

Bee boo boo bee bee, bee boo boo bee bee. A Nokia cell phone wants to answered.

Somewhere a 16 year old girl is wondering if her best friend is still sitting in that God-fucking-forsakin’ movie. Maybe I’ll call her. Speed dial number 1. Calling. Ring. Ring.

The best friend dives for her pocket, heads turn, mouths open, fingers are beginning to point, but before anyone can say a word, from the back of the theatre you hear a body builder wrapped in a bear, riding a bulldozer, fucking a fat chick, yell these words…

“Turn that fucking shit off!”

This has just become the best movie I have ever seen.