![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Oc9sA4zBRzYzxDcmDQOdDdEOSPZ8i274vrRiOn725FjhMe1Yx-pA7gPDRSgCNC8xS7yKdzpOzPqdgGRx4CEkqB2N5TCVX68PDnUA55Z81ZC0219DpiDdG0vLz5czztbq3Y-NwYpLm5nt/s400/Iron+Man+2.jpg)
Of course Iron Man 2 is in the theaters right now, and most of my friends want to know if I've seen it yet. I haven't, and likely I'll wait until it hits the cheapies to catch it. It looks like fun enough, but not sufficient fun for a modern full-price movie ticket.
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Now that said, I want to tell a story on myself. When I went to see Iron Man a few years ago, I caught it on an afternoon in a then brand new theater complex in Lexington, Kentucky. I checked the times in the paper (still did that even a few years ago) and wandered over and got a ticket for the right time. I paid attention to no other relevant details, nor did anyone mention anything special to me.
I went into a nice new but small theater with those nifty seats now that rise right up and up giving everyone a great view. I nestled in, saw a few other customers trickle in, mostly older folks I noticed. Then it began.
And it nearly knocked me out of my seat! The sound was booming like small grenades. My ears adjusted, going from movie mode to AC/DC mode assuming the little theater accounted for it. And then I saw the subtitles. The movie was subtitled, and frankly that didn't bother me. I love subtitles. But slowly it dawned even on my dull brain that I had wandered into a showing for the deaf and hard of hearing.
Dope.
The movie was a hoot, a lot of fun. And I have to say I don't know to this day how much of that excitement was due to the explosive soundtrack I endured. It was sure a different way to sample a movie.
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