Meet the Sell-Outs
MEET THE SELL-OUTS. Travis, dressed up to the eyeballs, walks brightly down the sidewalk. His face is freshly shaven, his hair combed, his tie straightened. In his hand he carries a gift-wrapped CD.
Betsy has opened the package and is admiring the new Gwen Stefani-or, rather, Travis' sentiment behind giving it.
Betsy: You didn't have to spend your money-
Travis: (Interrupting) Hell, what else can I do with it all?
Betsy notices that the seal on the CD has not been broken.
Betsy: Travis, you haven't even played it?
Travis: (Evasive) Yeah, well my stereo is broke. But I'm sure the CD is okay.
Betsy: Your stereo broke? God, I could hardly stand that. I live on music. I take my iPod wherever I go.
Travis: I don't follow music much. I'd like to though. Honest.
Betsy: (Pointing to CD) So you haven't heard this yet?
Travis: No. (Sly smile) I thought maybe you could play it for me on your player.
Betsy's face backtracks a bit. Maybe she was wrong to go out with this fellow she doesn't know. She makes a polite laugh.
Later. Travis and Betsy are in Times Square. Travis carries the CD. They approach the garish marquee of Loews. The theater entrance is flanked on both sides by posters for Meet the Fockers.
They step into the lobby. Rather than wait in line, Travis slips his credit card into the machine and purchases two tickets. Betsy, befuddled, watches him. She doesn't know what to say. Travis hands Betsy her ticket.
Betsy: Meet the Fockers?
Travis seems confused. He loved Meet the Parents-especially the whole play on words with Ben Stiller's character's last name. His only guess is that Betsy finds that sort of humor offensive.
Travis: These are the kind of movies that couples go to. All kinds of couples go. Honest. I've seen them.
Betsy looks at the tickets, then around the theater, then back at Travis. She hated Meet the Parents and wonders why Robert De Niro keeps taking such shitty roles.
Inside the theater. Travis was right. Couples do go to films like this. There are at least six or seven other men with their dates. Travis settles into his seat. Betsy looks from side to side. On screen, an aged Robert De Niro sits in the driver's seat of an RV. He's dressed in a Navy admiral's cap, a red v-neck sweater and tinted sunglasses.
Travis watches intently. The color slowly drains from Betsy's cheeks.
Travis: (To himself) Damn.
Betsy: What's wrong?
Travis: I forgot to get the Coke.
That does it. Betsy just looks at Travis for a moment, then gets up and starts to leave. Travis, confused, hustles after her. On the sidewalk he catches up to her.
Travis: Where are you going?
Betsy: I'm leaving.
Travis: What do you mean?
Betsy looks at Travis, trying to understand him.
Betsy: These are not the kind of movies I go to.
Travis: Well, I don't follow movies too much?
Betsy: You mean these are the only kind of movies you go to?
Travis: This is sort of high class.
Betsy: My god!
Travis: We can go to another movie if you like, I don't care. I got money. There's plenty.
Travis gestures across the street, to AMC, but is interrupted by Betsy.
Betsy: No, Travis. You're a sweet guy and all that, but I think this is it. I'm going home.
Travis: (Interrupting) You mean you don't want to go to a movie? (Pause) There's plenty of movies around here.
Betsy: No, I don't feel so good. We're just two very different kinds of people, that's all.
Travis: (Puzzled) Huh?
Betsy: It's very simple. You go your way, I'll go mine. Thanks anyway, Travis.
Travis: But?Betsy?
Betsy: I'm getting a taxi.
She walks to the curb.
Travis: (Following her) But your CD?
Betsy: Keep it. I'll just download it.
Travis: Can I call you?
Betsy looks for a cab.
Travis: (Tender) Please, Betsy, I bought it for you.
Betsy looks at his sad sweet face and relents a bit.
Betsy: All right, I'll burn it and get it back to you.
Betsy takes the CD, but quickly turns and hails a taxi.
Betsy: Taxi!
A taxi quickly pulls up. Travis feebly protests to no one in particular.
Travis: But I got a taxi.