We Got Snakes!

On a mutha-fucking plane! Why would I voluntarily see this piece of crap flick you ask? Or maybe, you don't even question it. But they had me at "open bar." Some friends and I got tickets to the private-booze fest premier screening of Snakes on a Plane starring Samuel L. Jackson and...well...no one else. Sadly, we were first in line to the sold out affair. For $25 you got all the free booze and SoaP schwag you could want. That's right. Now, either the movie wasn't that memorable, or 5 Seven and diets later, I barely remember the plot (or lack there of). It was a poor mans Rocky Horror type of evening and brought back memories of when I was a kid and saw Critters 2 at the Mission theater. You couldn't hear much as snot-nosed kiddie patrons hurled twinkies and spit balls at the screen. Fridays fest was an adult version with ample booze and dialogue like "I am so sick of these mutha-fucking snakes on this mutha fucking plane." How could we go wrong?