If you read my blog at all, you would know that my Dad is pretty awesome. (You would know this for sure if you at least followed my Facebook/Instagram!)
Between a busy schedule of attending events, meeting up with friends and business contacts, going for drinks, travelling and editing pictures of myself, I was looking forward to a mid-week movie break with my Dad this week. Oh finally, a much deserved break! If you know anything about my Dad (and you probably don’t), the men in my family are massive DC/Marvel comic fans. One of my cousins has a room
glorified dedicated to these colourful action books, and another has a room adorned with affiliated and limited-edition memorabilia.
So of course, we made plans to see the notorious Iron Man 3. Let me point out here that my Dad hates to spend money on anything fun or frivolous. Especially if it’s for himself. He is so incredibly selfless that he would wear the same shirt for 10 years so that me and my brother can have new ones. Half of his shirts are free or torn, and my brother has the nicest computers and the latest technology in our house. Anyway, I celebrated this momentous movie by trawling the internet for discounts on movie tickets.
My hands were jittery and my heart fluttered with excitement at the thought of this long-awaited date with Daddy. I couldn’t wait for the day to come, and it finally came. Being the champion that I am, I fell sick.
“Boohoo, Daddy I think I’m sick. I really want to watch Iron Man 3 with you and your friend, but I can’t last 2 hours in the theatre. I’m going to go back to bed. Are you OK to watch it with your friend?”
“Sure, you better rest.”
“I did all the research for you Daddy. Go to any Shaw theatre, and make sure you use your UOB credit card, NTUC card or Passion card for the cheapest movie rates. The best you can get on a weekday is $7.50. It will be more expensive if you watch in 3D though. I picked all the best timings and locations for you and whatsapped it to you too.”
“Ok thanks, love you, see you later!”
The door slammed on my dreams, but I soon had some of my own. I drifted off into an afternoon slumber.
(The stuff of sweet dreams.)
My Dad came home from the movie as I was pulling myself up from my afternoon siesta.
Rubbing my eyes, I said sleepily, “How was the movie Dad? Was it $7.50 at the places I picked for you?”
“It was good. Me and my friend watched it for $4.50 each. We watched at Filmgarde.”
I jerked straight up, indignant. “$4.50? Cannot be! I checked every single major movie theatre website in Singapore and went through 50 over bloody promotions to get you the best rate. (OK, I didn’t say bloody in front of my Dad but you get my drift.) How could you have gotten such a low rate? Why you watch at Filmgarde?! Got $4.50 meh?”
“Ya. We got the $4.50 senior citizen rate.”
“You’re a SENIOR CITIZEN!?!?!?”
“Haha. Yes dear I am.”
“But how come?! You’re not that old, right? How old are you?”
“58. My friend was over 55 too, categorizing us as Senior Citizens. “
I can’t believe it. My strong and awesome father is a senior citizen. Before I know it, we’re all going to be senior citizens too. Let’s all gather at the void deck, complain about the younger generation and their internet, and play chess together.
Here’s a slightly more “senior citizen”-looking photo of us.
#things are not what they used to be