As sins go, sloth is among my favorites. I'll take a lazy Sunday in a friend's backyard over a three-mile hike any time. So it follows that my favorite way to watch a movie is at the drive-in. This is the laziest possible way a person can go to the movies. You don't even have to get out of your car, and if you do, you can lie on a pile of blankets and pillows and fall asleep before the credits even roll.
Cars filled the grassy lot as the sun dipped low in the sky. There were minivans and pickup trucks, SUVs and vintage convertibles. 1960s doo-wop tunes wafted through the air. Kids hung from monkey bars on the playground as adults lined up for snacks.
We stopped at a Zoltar machine for an uncomfortably accurate psychic reading. We ordered nachos and churros and ice cream sandwiches, cheeseburgers with pickles and pizza straight from the oven. We spread blankets on the ground and made piles of pillows, cuddling under the darkening sky. The screen flickered, the speakers roared awake, and an old Merry Melodies cartoon came alive on the screen. We saw Super 8, and despite my best attempts at sloth, I did not fall asleep.