More years ago than I can recall, I was the only passenger in a two engine commercial plane on a flight from San Francisco to Monterey, California. Long ago enough that I was met at the gate by an attendant who escorted me to an exit, down a flight of stairs, across the tarmac to the plane. (no security screening, no shoe removing, no patting down) Outnumbered by the crew of three, I enjoyed luxuriating in the fantasy of owning my own jet during the short, low altitude flight. Landing in Monterey, alighting with no passengers following me down the steps, walking to the terminal to meet a childhood friend hosting a long-anticipated reunion - all in the lap of pseudo luxury.
And, yesterday I had another almost-solo experience - at the movies. I decided it was time to remove my name from the few who had not yet seen "The King's Speech." I chose the 11:20am screening at the Krikorian in Monrovia, where, in magnificent stadium seating, I sat alone - wondering momentarily just how safe it was to be all by myself - when two more people entered the vacuum. But, three we were - and only three, for the entire time - trailers, ads, and the feature. I found the film enjoyable, but with almost too many closeups of Colin Firth aka George VI trying his best to release words stuck firmly in his mouth. I enjoyed the aging of his wife - creatively stuffed bosom as she aged. Helena Bonham Carter is a force unto herself - as always, terrific!