operation: conttraband carrot sticks

Why I'm Running an Underground Produce Distribution Network at the Cinema 🍿🥕🎬

I have a confession to make.

I sneak snacks into movie theaters.

There. I said it.

Not because I'm cheap. Not because I'm trying to save seven dollars on a box of Raisinets. I do it because, frankly, the food options usually stink.

Look, I enjoy a movie theater hot dog as much as the next person. There is something wonderfully reckless about eating a hot dog in a dark room while explosions happen on a screen the size of a small apartment building. But beyond that?

The choices are usually the same.

Popcorn.

Candy.

Nachos with a suspiciously warm vat of orange cheese that appears to have been melted sometime during the Clinton administration.

That's about it.

What if I don't want candy?

What if I don't want to spend two hours feeling like I just ate my body weight in salt and artificial butter flavoring?

Where are the carrot sticks?

Where is the celery?

Where is the apple?

Where is the little fruit cup that makes me feel like I made at least one responsible decision today?

I would happily buy those things.

Yet every trip to the concession stand feels like being handed a menu designed by a committee of thirteen-year-old boys at a sleepover.

So yes, sometimes provisions are brought in from the outside world.

Nothing outrageous.

Maybe some fruit.

Maybe some trail mix.

Maybe something that didn't originate in a cardboard display next to a giant tub of popcorn.

And as for beverages, I can neither confirm nor deny that certain drinks have occasionally entered the theater concealed with the creativity and determination of the ancient Greeks.

Let's just say that if the Trojans could fit an entire army inside a wooden horse, a thirsty moviegoer can certainly figure out how to transport a beverage past a teenager tearing tickets.

The irony is that I would gladly support the concession stand if it offered a few healthier choices. Give me celery sticks. Give me apple slices. Give me grapes. Give me something that doesn't leave me feeling like a beached seal by the time the credits roll.

Until then, the underground snack railroad remains active.

And if you happen to hear the faint crinkle of a sandwich bag during the emotional climax of a movie, mind your business.

Some of us are just trying to get our daily serving of fruit.