It was mostly the same. I walked past the old ticket booth, down thr 100 yard academy award-like foyer to the new high tech ticket office.
Beyond the usual snack bar, I passed into the courtyard of a staged spanish presidio, complete with astronomically correct constellations above. I tried taking a photo of the big dipper but it didn’t turn out.
Before long I was into The Lion King, beautifully put together, just enough Shakespearian evil and drama to engage all generations and a strident but not too obtrusive soundtrack.
But looking around in the semi-darkness, something was off.
I had deliberately come on a Saturday to enjoy this movie with hordes of sticky face preadolescents. Instead I counted twelve others in attendance, all deep in the throws of geezerdom.
It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, no sunami warnings. Granted it now costs $8 to use the back parking lot, and granted Santa Barabara is over built, overly marketed and these days over crowded.
But still, it was a great movie.
Where were the kids?
