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I never saw the first two Harry Potter movies and I've never read J.K. Rowling. Truthfully, I was never interested. So when a friend asked me to go see it with him on Sunday afternoon, I was already convinced that I wouldn't be crazy about it. And part of me wanted to preserve my Harry Potter ignorance like it was some sort of protest. My best friend never saw "Footloose." She is the only person I know, to my knowledge, who has never seen it. She takes pride in that. Somewhere along the way, after enough people had said to her, "Oh my God! You've never seen 'Footloose?'", she vowed to never see it. I kind of felt that way about Harry Potter. I feel similarly about the "Lord of The Rings" trilogy. And Hobbits in general. Basically, I couldn't care less. I'd rather see Lindsay Lohan's heaving cleave.

But, against my better judgment, I went with my friend to see the new Harry Potter movie. I snickered, for obvious reasons, at the opening scene in which Harry, approaching official teenhood, is in bed, under the covers with a flashlight, stroking his wand and chanting "maximus!"

A few short minutes later, the picture went. The bulb burned out seemingly unbeknownst to the poor soul in the projection booth. Audience members starting yelling up to the booth. "Hey! Movie! Hey!" Then the house lights came up. A man behind us said to anyone who would listen, "They better fix this. I didn't pay ten bucks a ticket for this!" He was sitting with a woman, presumably his wife, and their two young daughters.

My friend and I sat quietly, content to wait and see. The guy behind us suggested somebody go get the manager. Somebody else. Finally, someone who worked at the theatre came in, stood in front of us and began to apologize profusely. "The problem is being worked on," he said. "I'm not sure how long it will take to fix it, but we're working on it."

"What are we supposed to do, just sit here?" asked Mr. Asshole behind us.

"Well, there is another showing in forty-five minutes so you're welcome to go see that. We'll also give you free tickets to any movie of your choice. I'm very sorry, but we are working on the problem."

"There goes our entire afternoon," Mr. Asshole said. "We have a day planned, here. We planned our day already and now you're telling us we should go see another movie? We don't have time for this. Why doesn't the manager come in here? I think you should get the manager in here."

"The manager won't be able to tell you any more than what I've already told you. I'm very sorry. We are working on the problem, but you can go see the next showing."

"This is unbelievable. What do you people get paid for?"

I wanted to kill him. And I felt sorry for his kids for whom he was setting an example. He's probably one of those people who forces his way into crowded subway cars before letting other people off. If he drives, he's probably got serious road rage. He watches Harry Potter with no sense of humor. Everyone at the office hates him. The only kind of sex he'll have with his wife is anal.

My friend and I left and ducked into another theatre to watch the beginning of "The Day After Tomorrow," which seemed really dumb. Jake Gyllenhaal looked less hot than he should have. But Dennis Quaid hardly looks fifty. I thought of the first movie I ever saw with Dennis Quaid in it. It was long before the award winning "Breaking Away." It was a low budget thriller called "Are You In The House Alone?" His co-star was a girl my half-brother went to high school with. Later, she turned up on "Dynasty."

After forty minutes we went into yet another theatre and watched Harry Potter from the beginning -- where he was working his magic stick under the covers -- until the credits rolled.

It was really good.