So, here’s the setup: my wife’s entire family gets together every year for a big holiday dinner at her parents’ farm in Florida. It’s a huge place—think barn turned airplane hangar, complete with a movie theater setup because my father-in-law is a tech enthusiast with two planes parked right there. Yeah, it’s as bougie as it sounds.

After a massive dinner (lots of beans were involved—critical detail), we all gather in the barn for movie night. My father-in-law suggested Oppenheimer because he couldn’t stop raving about how the sound system would “blow us away” during the bomb scene. Now, my wife’s family is ridiculously hygienic—like, they’ve probably got hand sanitizer brands on speed dial—so everything is always prim, proper, and pristine.

Anyway, we’re all seated in these fancy recliners, bellies full, and the movie’s dragging on a bit for my taste, but I’m being a good sport. Then comes the moment—the Trinity test. My father-in-law had hyped up the sound system so much that I literally braced myself, hands over ears, expecting to be launched into a sonic apocalypse.

But here’s the kicker: the bomb goes off, and…silence. Absolute cinematic silence.

Meanwhile, I, thinking this was my cover, let out the mother of all…releases. We’re talking long, echoing, unapologetic. I was so confident the explosion would drown me out, but NOPE. I quickly realized my mistake when I removed my hands from my ears and saw my wife’s face of pure horror.

Her mom looked like she just watched me bomb Hiroshima. My father-in-law? Oh, he was laughing his ass off, which honestly made it worse. The cherry on top? This family is so over-the-top about cleanliness that I basically committed war crimes in their sacred space.

Now, I’m lying in bed, my wife is still mortified, and I’m debating whether I’ll be banned from the next year’s gathering. Moral of the story: never trust Christopher Nolan to cover your “mistakes.”