The Scotsman's Speech

Now I know what people do on New Year's Day night. They go to the movies, something that had never occurred to me until tonight.

I was just looking for something to do, but when I pulled up to the Westhampton Theater, I was greeted with a ticket line that snaked around the building. In the rain. Zero points for originality, Karen.

But I got in line with all the couples and groups of girlfriends, eventually scoring a ticket. Inside the concession lines were miles-long and the popcorn machine was malfunctioning at the worst possible time.

As I waited for popcorn, hoping I'd get mine before they ran out, people were coming out of one theater door and going in the other side looking for seats, not a good sign. Why had this ever seemed like a good idea I wondered?

Because I got to meet Rudy. When I entered the theater looking for a seat, I assumed I'd have an easy time of it since it was just me. Not so, but I finally saw an unoccupied chair and asked the dapper-looking older man next to it if it was free. It was and he waved me in.

As I sat down, I mentioned how surprised I was at how full the theater was. I've been going to the Westhampton for years and I'd never seen it all but sold out. He agreed, saying his wife had wanted to see The King's Speech, but that he was interested because he was a Brit.

How perfect to see a British movie sitting next to a native. I smiled at that and before I could even respond, he corrected himself, "Actually I'm a Scotsman from Edinburgh." Now we had our common ground, Rudy and I.

I told him I had a close friend who lives in Glasgow, or, more accurately, Barrhead, and he couldn't have looked more delighted. "You mean Barr-heed," he laughed, saying it like the locals do. Once he found out I'd been, he asked for my impressions of his homeland.

That led to a discussion of Scottish accents ("So Germanic-based," he told me, sharing words that sounded almost identical in German as when spoken with a Scottish accent). I told him how it had taken me some time to get used to my friend's accent, and even her word choices.

As I explained to him, the first time she referred to a dodgy neighborhood, I was lost. "Yes and there's lots of dodgy neighborhoods in Glasgow, so she'd know," Rudy said telling me about some he knew well.

He was full of surprises, informing me that he used to drink with Sean Connery back in the days when the actor was married to an actress but had not yet made it himself.

"Oh, he could be an unpleasant drunk," Rudy said. "I stayed away from him once he got in his cups. Got a temper and liked to fight, too."

He continued to tell me Sean Connery anecdotes (country club, Spain, eccentricities) until his wife returned with their popcorn. Glancing at my bag, she recognized me as being one of the last people to have scored a full popcorn; she hadn't and had settled for a partial portion and candy. I offered to share.

Her arrival coincided with the movie starting, which was too bad, because I could have gone on chatting with Rudy much longer.

The twinkle in his eye, that handsome wool driving cap of his, and the Scottish charm which I knew of first hand from my friend's brother, all combined to make him someone I wanted to know more about, even with his wife on the other side of him.

The King's Speech luckily provided an excellent two hours of entertainment with its superb British acting, truth-based story, a wealth of period details and wry British dialog. Definitely Oscar material.

When the lights came up, I immediately turned to Rudy and told him how very much I'd enjoyed talking to him. Doffing his hat at me, he insisted,"The pleasure was all mine."

Oh, no it wasn't, Rudy. Karmically speaking, I ended up at that movie tonight so I could have fifteen minutes of conversation with you. Seriously.

If it wouldn't have seemed untoward, I'd have given him my card and told him to call me so I could hear more of his stories and experience more of his charm.

But I'd probably already stretched my limits with his wife over the popcorn. No need to push my luck.