Semi-nerdy confession: All my life I've loved Transformers.

Not in the buy-every-toy, watch-every-cartoon, quote-them-in-daily-life obsession sense. Yeah, I owned a bunch of the action figures as a kid and actually have the DVD of the awesome 1984 cartoon movie. And yeah, Amie did get me a vintage Optimus Prime as a gift last year.

I wasn't first in line to see the new movie, either. But I really wanted to go Saturday night. So I called up Evan and convinced him to see the 7:20 p.m. showing at the Mall in Columbia.

Of course, we get there and it's sold out.

After much wrangling, I convinced Evan to see the 9:30 p.m. show with me. So we had a beer or two at the nearby Champps Americana, which, for a chain sports bar, isn't as lame as I thought it would be.

We walked over to the cinema at about 8:30 p.m. and realized we needed to kill a little more time before going in. So we went back to Champps for a shot. What must have happened was, I took out my wallet to pay for the shot, and my ticket and the receipt both fell out onto the floor. I didn't notice.

We strolled back over to the theater, I fished around in my pockets for the ticket, couldn't find it, and panicked. This showing had also sold out.

I ran back to Champps, found the receipt on the floor below the barstool but couldn't find the ticket itself. Someone had stolen it!

I was devastated. Absolutely devastated. Evan later said I looked like someone had shot my dog.

We ended up going to the Greene Turtle in Columbia earlier than planned for a nightlife column. Then we went back to Baltimore for more beer to wash away the bitter taste of defeat.  

I finally ended up seeing a matinée yesterday. And yeah, it was awesome. But I'm still peeved at what happened Saturday night.