When you live abroad, even universal seeming activities can be quite different. So what’s it like going to the movies in Belgium? Well let’s see, first there is the purchase of tickets. You can buy the traditional way – by standing in line for 30 minutes to by your $12 ticket, then being charged a “handling fee” of something like 65 cents. That’s not terribly steep as a handling fee, but what the hell? With the price of movie tickets, am I not paying for someone to sell it to me already? And why don’t they just put it into the price of a ticket? I’d find that much less insulting. Your second option is to buy the clever way – purchase online or with their handy computer kiosks where you pay – WTF? A “handling fee”?! Now, this handling fee is usually a little lower, maybe 50 cents. But no one is handling my tickets! Why the hell are they charging me extra either way?! Let’s not forget that at some theaters, longer movies cost more. Oh, yes, for real.

Ok, so you’ve got your ticket. You may or may not have an assigned seat. (This is more of a French thing, but some Belgian cinemas are trying to start it as well. Leaving room for potential chaos, the Belgians are doing this on a partial basis: electronic purchases get to pick an assigned seat, traditional purchases do not. You can imagine how well that might work.) At many cinemas, you will scan the barcode yourself under an infrared scanner. Still, they pay someone to stand there because the machine will now print out another ticket, which they hand you. The point of this ritual you ask? Well, besides killing extra trees, I’ve got no theory.

You proceed to the refreshments line. Why? Well because in Belgium, it’s actually affordable! It’s still expensive, but doable. I am the type who never ever gets snacks in American theaters. But I almost always do here. Sodas start at about $3.00, instead of $5.50 or worse. Of course, sometimes you’ll have to wait in line for it for eternity because, hey, this is Belgium, and that’s how commerce works. (Sometimes I think the country harbors a secret hankering for the good ‘ol days of Communism, judging by the customer service style, that is. They really dig loooong lines for everything from the ATM to buying milk.)

Once you get your seats in the theater, you probably want to take a potty stop. To do so, you’ll have to shell out another 40 cents for what we call the “toilet tax”. Belgium is more fond of charging you to use the toilet than anyplace I’ve been. I find this completely annoying when you are already a paying customer. (Yes, many restaurants do it also, even when you are a paying customer.) Saturday, I got quite a new shock, by the name of “Lady P.” What does Lady P. stand for? Let’s see if you can figure it out first.

pissoir

Lady PIt stands for Lady Pissoir. (A pissoir, or “pisser” is the French word for urinal.) I found this hysterical, particularly enjoying the “how to” instructions posted everywhere .

Back in the theater, I will enjoy my movie. It may start with no fanfare. Most often it will have commercials, but no trailors! If there are trailors, about half the time they will not include any American films. (Hey, that’s fair. Just an obvious exclusion.) Where ever you are in Belgium, films are thankfully available in the “original version”, with both Dutch and French subtitles. (Of course, we’re so used to having movies in English, we’ve made the mistake of forgetting to watch out for foreign films.) Also, if the movie is exceptionally long, there may also be an intermission. I thought I wouldn’t like this, but trust me, about halfway through Lord of the Rings my Coke filled bladder was cheering. (Keep that money handy.)

Last but not least, at least on the Flemish side of the country, the movie-goers will all clean up after themselves. No leaving your giant soda cups and candy wrappers here. You clean up your area and dump it in the trash cans provided at the exit. How very polite. We ought to charge them a “handling fee” for that.

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