Last night, we headed to the cinema in Chania, Crete to indulge in the opening night of Mission Impossible. Many of you will know of my penchant for a cinema visit whilst abroad and may have read my previous blog, ‘Tickets, Cinema, Action!’ from October 2022 which was when I last visited this particular cinema. In my opinion, a cinema trip abroad is a cultural pleasure not to be missed.
On this occasion, there were a handful of us waiting patiently on the pavement to purchase tickets whilst the ticket man organised his petty cash in his miniscule booth that would not even accommodate a small swinging cat. An extremely short woman dressed in heels near the kiosk was intermittently looking around and also glancing at her phone. It was unclear whether she was about to buy a ticket and, upon seeing her hearing aids, I had visions of me awkwardly gesticulating in a chaotic way whilst uttering a mumble of broken Greek in order to ask her. However, after a few moments of British-queue etiquette, I settled for a gentle, hesitant tap as a means of checking if she was queuing or not. She was.
She appeared to be waiting for someone and when she had glanced at her phone for a final time before buying her ticket, I noticed her screensaver and did a double take. Either her partner was a perfect look-a-like or it was Tom Cruise. My husband had clocked it too and we both affirmed that it was the famous TC. I was curious: my screensaver had always been of someone or something personal – my family or a favourite place. I had thought (perhaps naively) that this was the norm but this woman had opened my eyes to new screen possibilities.
When she asked for her ticket, which sounded like, ‘ένα Tom Cruise’ (one Tom Cruise) I was somewhat relieved as I had been wondering how I was going to say ‘Mission Impossible’ in Greek. When it was my turn, I sort of copied what I had heard, added a slight roll of the ‘r’, puckered my lips a little more than usual in an attempt to create some sort of Greek intonation and asked for ‘δυο Tom Cruise’. It sounded a little greedy asking for two of him, but my message was understood and tickets were received.
After finding our seats in the auditorium, one which we hadn’t been in before, I headed off to the loo. Turning right, I strolled across the foyer, pushed open the fairly innocuous wooden door to the unisex toilets and then gasped an inaudible gasp as I walked in to an improbable visual feast.
As I took in my surroundings of the overwhelming, brightly lit floor-to-ceiling black and white shiny tiled decor, which was everywhere including in every cubicle, I momentarily felt like a Hollywood star stepping into a scene. This was a stark contrast to the faded seated auditoriums, the paltry roadside ticket booth where the buttons on the antiquated till were still going strong and the simplicity of the snack counter which resembled a ladened market stall without the pizzazz and jazz of a 21st century cinema complex. This toilet decor was something!
I half expected Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers to rhythmically shimmy across the bathroom floor but as they didn’t and no one else was around, I got out my camera eyeing up every nook and cranny. No surface had been left untouched by the glittery black and white splendour. Upon reflection, my reaction may have been a little over the top but I wanted to remember this heavenly bathroom palace. Back in the auditorium, I whispered to my husband, ‘You have to go to the toilet. Wooden door on the right.’
Two and 3/4 hours later, as the credits rolled on the lengthy, action-packed film, I left the cinema full of ideas of how to next redesign my bathroom.
Let Luce! 