And not just the reality stuff, either.
One year, I was helping Mom-thing man her booth at a homeshow. This was a higher-end show: there were decorators, muralists, window treatments, that kind of thing; but also rec-room furshings (billiards tables and bars) and home theatre equipment. The latter was across the aisle from Mom-thing’s booth. They had chairs, a huge flat-screen TV, and would periodically show portions of movies. They were a big draw for the dads and yard-apes. (Yeah, surprise there…)
At one point, Mom-thing pointed over to the booth and said to me, “Look at the little kids.” Two small children sat in the chairs, completely absorbed in Indiana Jones (the bit where he’s in the South American temple ruin): eyes glazed, faces slack, mouths hanging open. “Now,” continued Mom-thing, “look at the big kids.” She pointed to a booth across the way, displaying custom doors. The two twentysomething boys manning the booth were standing, staring across at the big-screen TV, eyes glazed, faces slack, mouths hanging open…
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