San Antonio, Texas, is technically the eighth largest city in the country, with some 1.2 million people, yet Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 opened at only four theaters here.
Like a lot of people around the country, I was intrigued by all the fuss over this movie. The specter of censorship surrounding Moore's film rekindled the teen spirit of rebellion in me.
So my wife and I decided to pack the kids in the car to check this flick out. Heck, any movie that got panned by the folks at that plantation house on the Hill had to be worth seeing.
Like a lot of people around the country, I was intrigued by all the fuss over this movie. The specter of censorship surrounding Moore's film rekindled the teen spirit of rebellion in me.
So my wife and I decided to pack the kids in the car to check this flick out. Heck, any movie that got panned by the folks at that plantation house on the Hill had to be worth seeing.
I did notice in the fine print in the newspaper ad for the film that 9/11 was rated "R." I figured, that too, was even more reason to bring the kids along, because the real 9/11 was rated NC17 in my book, and my kids had already seen that on TV.
So we soon found ourselves, this nuclear family of two big people and two little people - 45, 45, 11 and 13 - standing in a line waiting to buy tickets for the movie. That's when I noticed the sign on the window of the ticket booth indicating that anyone less than 21 years of age seeking to see 9/11 would be asked to "produce a photo ID."
I turned to my wife, "Do you see that?"
"Don't worry about it," she replied. "It's OK."
What my wife meant is that it was OK with her if the kids went into the movie with us. I wasn't so sure that would be the reaction of the people inside the box office booth. It then occurred to me that the sign -- a piece of white paper with the words obviously printed out in haste from a computer - applied only to Michael Moore's movie.
I glanced up at the marquee board inside the ticket booth. There were a number of other R rated films showing at the same time as Fahrenheit 9/11, yet there was no sign trumpeting ID requirements for them. That didn't seem right; in fact, it wasn't right.
We forged ahead. I pulled out my wallet and stuck my mouth in that little round vent in the box office window.
"I need four tickets to Fahrenheit 9/11."
"The 7:30 show?" the box office cashier inquired.
"Yeah, that one," I replied.
The cashier took my credit card, and then realized the kids were part of the admission package.
"I have to warn you that there is a lot of graphic footage in the film that isn't appropriate for children," the cashier warned.
Of course, she said this loud enough so that everyone else standing near us now understood that we were about to subject our children to some sort of cruel and unusual punishment. But I wasn't about to be cowed by peer pressure. Admittedly, I did glance around quickly, to make sure there were no FBI or Homeland Security agents in the vicinity. Then I boldly stood my ground.
"Thanks for the warning," I said. "I still want the tickets."
We had run the censorship gauntlet and survived. We bought our soda, candy and popcorn and moved onto to Theater No. 5. I half expected to be approached by security and asked to produce IDs for my kids. Then it dawned on me that wasn't likely to happen because most of the employees also were kids.
We took our seats. I warned my boys to be ready for some gore. They brushed my concerns off like popcorn on a worn movie-theater seat.
"Dad, it's not like we haven't seen that stuff before," my oldest said.
And he was right. They watch the Discovery Channel, the History Channel and Animal Planet. Blood and gore were nothing new to them - and to millions of other kids around America, who feed on a daily diet of video games and cable TV.
But somehow, Michael Moore's movie had brought out the thought police.
True, there is a bit of gore in Fahrenheit 9/11 -- in the form of some candid war footage. But I'd rather my kids see the real thing, the reality of it all, than only the sanitized barrage of Army recruiting videos they are exposed to while watching their favorite shows on the boob tube at home.
Because if they see what war is really like, maybe, just maybe, they'll grow up to appreciate the value of avoiding war.
I only noticed one other family in the theater that night that had brought their children. That made me wonder how many other kids around the country have actually seen this movie. After all, it's the kids we're sending over to Iraq to do the fighting; it's our kids who will be sent to the next war to do the fighting, too. So what is it we're protecting them from? Could it be us?
Some parents may feel a movie like 9/11 is too much for their kids. I respect that, as long as they respect my point of view. The freedom to have a point of view is what freedom is about anyway, right?
At any rate, my youngest son, in the end, didn't seem all that fazed by the "graphic footage" in Fahrenheit 9/11 that the box office cashier had warned us would so upset him. As the credits for the film were rolling, I asked him what he thought about the movie.
"It was boring," he replied. "It was like a long '60 Minutes.' "
For my money, it was the best "60 Minutes" I've ever made him sit through.
Bill Conroy is a journalist and author of the book "Borderline Security: A Chronicle of Reprisal, Cronyism and Corruption in the U.S. Customs Service," which was recently published online by Narco News (
http://www.narconews.com). He can be contacted at 
wkc6428@aol.com
So we soon found ourselves, this nuclear family of two big people and two little people - 45, 45, 11 and 13 - standing in a line waiting to buy tickets for the movie. That's when I noticed the sign on the window of the ticket booth indicating that anyone less than 21 years of age seeking to see 9/11 would be asked to "produce a photo ID."
I turned to my wife, "Do you see that?"
"Don't worry about it," she replied. "It's OK."
What my wife meant is that it was OK with her if the kids went into the movie with us. I wasn't so sure that would be the reaction of the people inside the box office booth. It then occurred to me that the sign -- a piece of white paper with the words obviously printed out in haste from a computer - applied only to Michael Moore's movie.
I glanced up at the marquee board inside the ticket booth. There were a number of other R rated films showing at the same time as Fahrenheit 9/11, yet there was no sign trumpeting ID requirements for them. That didn't seem right; in fact, it wasn't right.
We forged ahead. I pulled out my wallet and stuck my mouth in that little round vent in the box office window.
"I need four tickets to Fahrenheit 9/11."
"The 7:30 show?" the box office cashier inquired.
"Yeah, that one," I replied.
The cashier took my credit card, and then realized the kids were part of the admission package.
"I have to warn you that there is a lot of graphic footage in the film that isn't appropriate for children," the cashier warned.
Of course, she said this loud enough so that everyone else standing near us now understood that we were about to subject our children to some sort of cruel and unusual punishment. But I wasn't about to be cowed by peer pressure. Admittedly, I did glance around quickly, to make sure there were no FBI or Homeland Security agents in the vicinity. Then I boldly stood my ground.
"Thanks for the warning," I said. "I still want the tickets."
We had run the censorship gauntlet and survived. We bought our soda, candy and popcorn and moved onto to Theater No. 5. I half expected to be approached by security and asked to produce IDs for my kids. Then it dawned on me that wasn't likely to happen because most of the employees also were kids.
We took our seats. I warned my boys to be ready for some gore. They brushed my concerns off like popcorn on a worn movie-theater seat.
"Dad, it's not like we haven't seen that stuff before," my oldest said.
And he was right. They watch the Discovery Channel, the History Channel and Animal Planet. Blood and gore were nothing new to them - and to millions of other kids around America, who feed on a daily diet of video games and cable TV.
But somehow, Michael Moore's movie had brought out the thought police.
True, there is a bit of gore in Fahrenheit 9/11 -- in the form of some candid war footage. But I'd rather my kids see the real thing, the reality of it all, than only the sanitized barrage of Army recruiting videos they are exposed to while watching their favorite shows on the boob tube at home.
Because if they see what war is really like, maybe, just maybe, they'll grow up to appreciate the value of avoiding war.
I only noticed one other family in the theater that night that had brought their children. That made me wonder how many other kids around the country have actually seen this movie. After all, it's the kids we're sending over to Iraq to do the fighting; it's our kids who will be sent to the next war to do the fighting, too. So what is it we're protecting them from? Could it be us?
Some parents may feel a movie like 9/11 is too much for their kids. I respect that, as long as they respect my point of view. The freedom to have a point of view is what freedom is about anyway, right?
At any rate, my youngest son, in the end, didn't seem all that fazed by the "graphic footage" in Fahrenheit 9/11 that the box office cashier had warned us would so upset him. As the credits for the film were rolling, I asked him what he thought about the movie.
"It was boring," he replied. "It was like a long '60 Minutes.' "
For my money, it was the best "60 Minutes" I've ever made him sit through.
Bill Conroy is a journalist and author of the book "Borderline Security: A Chronicle of Reprisal, Cronyism and Corruption in the U.S. Customs Service," which was recently published online by Narco News (
http://www.narconews.com). He can be contacted at wkc6428@aol.com
