Oh, there is a story to this one...but I must tell it to emphasize how much this movie experience sucked.
Ok, so it's the early Winter of 2004, around the Christmas season.
I boarded an Amtrak train in central Illinois, and departed southward for San Antonio Texas to meet up with my extended family for the holidays.
I don't recall the specific year, but it was one of the three years where we had a freak blizzard devastate much of the central United States. There were curtains/sheets of ice in central Missouri and even into Arkansas (who doesn't get snow, like ever) but I'm getting ahead of myself...(and this isn't the first time this happened on this particular voyage. We've had freak blizzards hit us when taking this same trip three times).
This particular train was scheduled to stop in St. Louis MO. However, a switch froze, and derailed a commercial freight train, causing a crash that released several hundred thousand gallons of chlorine into the region. In short, we had to be rerouted because of a massive chemical spill. So we stopped just prior to St Louis, and waited for several hours of freight traffic to clear so we could switch around to another track that would take us around the spill.
By the time we cleared St Louis, it was the graveyard shift (we had left around 4:45pm, CST).
Now, there are federal regulations in the US that require certain jobs to not operate more than 24 hours at a time without rest. Train staff are included on that list; so despite clearing the spill we had to be shuffled onto buses and shuttled to Little Rock in order to keep to the timetable. While the original train crew slept, another crew was going to take control of the train and meet us down in Little Rock later. Trust me, they can make great time when they need to.
It was on this cramped bus that I found myself squashed between a window and this enormous fat guy.
It was then that the stage was finally set for my worst movie-experience of all time.
The bus attendant retrieved a cheap looking cassette tap box and played Johnson Family Vacation. And it sucked. The only thing I can remember was a vague sequence of stereotypes being played back to back in a vain attempt to be funny. Not one soul on the bus laughed.
As bad as that was, there was worse yet to come.
And so, at around 3:45 in the morning, on a bus that was slowly sliding to Little Rock (there was ice everywhere, and no salt trucks), while squashed next to an unpleasantly sweaty beached whale-man I was subjected to Barber Shop Blues.
I will say, without a hint of irony, without any exaggeration, that the movie was worse than everything else I had experienced that evening.
And I couldn't. Shut. It. OFF.