Depending on how the numbers are crunched, there are varying degrees of a "box office slump" that's affecting every genre of film. Well, except for horror: any movie where a high-school dude can get the chick sitting next to him to clutch his arm for security from the sheer terror on the screen is not only "slump"-proof, it's critic-proof as well.

Some of the major studios think this slump can be attributed to the ever-increasing technology of home entertainment. They contend that if a family or an individual is spending between $5,000 and $10,000 on a home theater system with a plasma widescreen and surround THX sound, there's really no reason to venture to a crowded multiplex for "the movie-going experience"; unless it's for a specific event film. Thus, many of the must-see summer blockbusters are still drawing swarms of people, but the majority of films are now "wait for DVD" and "wait for cable." (Or, if it stars Jimmy Fallon, "pray for death.")

The same goes for the sports viewing experience. There was a time when the only way a fan could catch an out-of-town game on a big screen television was to head down to the local sports watering hole and hope to God that the barkeep would have the good sense to flip one of the TVs to your satellite station for three hours. Now, you have that satellite station. You have that television in your basement, with better sound equipment. And you can drink your own beer instead of paying $3 for a bottle of Miller Lite. The only things missing are those adorable chicks in football jerseys that are always hammered by halftime and start doing really goofy dances and flirting with everyone in sight during the second half. Then again, their overprotective, hair-trigger aggressive boyfriends are missing, too...

For all the reasons previously stated, I haven't had the need to go to a sports bar to specifically watch a game in quite a while. But I made the trip to a suburban Washington, DC sports establishment this week to catch a Devils/Rangers playoff game with some friends.

It was a reminder of the intense, and at times surreal, sports bar viewing experience.

We arrived about a half hour before face-off, and none of the TVs in the joint - there are roughly 70 spread around the place - were tuned to hockey. This was troubling. Many times, especially in college, I've ventured out to catch a Stanley Cup playoff game at a local bar, and many times I've been told that there just wasn't enough interest to tune one of the TVs to hockey. I remember one season the Devils were in the Eastern Conference Finals, and the bartender refused to turn on the game because the Baltimore Orioles were playing a regular season game in May. IN MAY!

At the sports bar this week, our waiter came over to ask for our drinks before the game. One dude at my table quickly identified that he had "Joey Lawrence" hair, and proceeded to do the "Whoa!" from "Blossom" for the next minute or so. But he was only half-right. I warned him that the information I was about to share could cause a serious case of what I term "the giggles" every time this kid came back to the table during the course of the evening. But even with that warning issued, he was ready for my observation, and here it was: