Movie Mayhem

What else to do on a cold Saturday evening than accompany two pre-teen girls to the movies?  I was game.  If the snack of the day involves movie popcorn, I'm there with no complaints.

I didn't even care that the flick of choice was Avatar, previews of which I'd seen on t.v. and thought, "Meh. Great special effects, but I bet there's no story line."

That statement couldn't be farther from the truth. 

Suffice it to say that Avatar, even had it not been in 3-D, kept me on the edge of my seat (and dodging missiles) and enthralled for the entire length that it played.

But, I'm not going to give a glorious review of the film.  This review is about the audience. 

Saturday is still a big movie-going night in our community of about 30,000 people.  Unlike matinees, which tend to play only for fewer than twelve people, the evening shows are packed.  Avatar was no exception.  The girls and I arrived exactly fifteen minutes before show time, and spent exactly that much time in line for tickets and popcorn.  We missed the previews of other films, and entered the darkened theatre just in time for all the mannerly reminders like "turn off your cell phone."

We were somewhat dismayed that there didn't appear to be any seats that were readily available, unless you wanted to crawl over half an aisle of people and claim the lone seat in the middle of a section.

Each apparently empty seat we spied ended up being full of coats and shopping bags.

Finally, I spied two seats that were together, one of which held coats.  I was able to get the attention of the man sitting near the coats, and asked if the seat was taken.  Others around him tapped him on the shoulder to direct him to me, and he graciously moved the coats so my daughter and her friend could sit down.  On the other side of them were a young boy and his grandmother, so I figured my girls would be safe for the duration of the film.

Now, to find a seat for me. 

A helpful patron pointed to a seat in front of my girls and said, "There's a seat, here."  The woman sitting next to the seat looked at me, then looked down at the seat which contained a pile of coats, which were not visible to the helpful patron, and muttered, "Not REALLY."

OH KAY THEN.

I ended up in the back, next to a grandpa and his grandson, and this was fine because my girls were in view of me during the show, and plus I wasn't embarrassing them by sitting right with them.

See, they're at that age where having a mom hang out is potentially embarrassing and stems the free-flow of conversation.

I couldn't help but wonder though: O Movie Patrons! Where art thine manners?  Left, rolling in the muck of the hogpen, mayhap?

Yeah. Definitely.

• If the theatre is not crowded, by all means toss your bulky items into a seat nearby and enjoy the show with hands unencumbered by anything but popcorn and a beverage.
• But, if you notice the theatre is rapidly filling up, then keep your items, bulky or not, to yourself so that other patrons who paid the same ticket price you did may have a seat and be spared the . . . embarrassment? inconvenience? necessity? . . . of having to ask, "Is this seat taken?"

Sure, other patrons might respond, but I'm only gonna do this if you show up well ahead of time because any fool knows that for a Saturday night show - you gotta get there at least 30 minutes beforehand so you get a seat, and you inability to plan ahead isn't my problem.

Point taken.

However, there is such a thing called courtesy, which obviously is not so common anymore amongst the masses.

Common courtesy would suggest, if you see someone searching for a place to sit down, that you remove your belongings from available seating.

I was far from being the only patron having this difficulty, too, but I was relieved to see that people were not resorting to sitting on the steps of the theatre in order to watch the show.  It was tempting to find an usher, though they tend to have absolutely no authority when it comes to shushing patrons or any other such duties.

I felt like I was back in 7th grade again, as that movie-goer looked me up and down, perhaps to assess the amount I spent on my clothing, perhaps checking to see if I wore make-up, or had a grody hairstyle (every day is a bad hair day), all assessable in the dark with her far-superior ex-ray vision, just so she could mutter dismissively, "Not REALLY," and turn back to her tub of popcorn.

Anyone who has children reading this and who objects to strong language may want to send the children out of the room and out of view of the computer screen.

Well, screw you, you bitch of over-inflated self-importance.  I might be lacking manners by even responding to your rudeness and calling you all manner of nasty and offensive names, but at least my mama raised me better than to leave anybody, regardless of age, race, color or creed, standing in the aisle of a movie theatre simply because I couldn't be bothered to remove my belongings from an empty seat.

So, you over-indulged white trash bimbo, you can take your pile of 3-piece Valentine corsets from Spencer's Gifts that you'll never be able to cram your self-righteous ass into anyway and stick it all where the sun doesn't shine.

Okay, tirade over.  Children may now re-enter the room.

For the cost of a mere  twenty-five cents, a locker can be had for storage.  The lockers happen to be in the mall, and conveniently adjacent to the movie theatre - perhaps a few yards less than a football field's length away.  Of course, I wouldn't expect a selfish cretin to understand that there are other options available beyond rudeness.  Silly me.