Why Oh Why Must You Be So Close to Me?
Anyone who knows me or has read the blog (both of you) knows that I'm not much of a fan of the general population. It's nothing personal, mind you, I just don't see a point to the majority of people that I encounter. Every now and then I start to get soft on that perspective and then am faced with an encounter with the "huddled masses yearning to be annoying" which sets me squarely back in line. 99% of the human race exists to annoy, delay, and generally rankle me.
I wonder if I spelled that correctly. Rankle. Wrankle? Rankel? Spelling Nazi's be warned, I already consider this a gross waste of time even considering the spelling of the word... there'll be no more of that in this post. Let the type-os beginn.
The other day I went to the movies. I like movies. Well... I like some movies. A few. OK I'm rather finicky about the movies I watch... but the ones I like... I really like. I've tended to avoid movie theaters in the past decade. Because I like the big movie experience, I built my own theater in the basement. I've got a nice 10 foot wide wall mounted screen, and HD projector, and THX(2) certified DD 7.1/DTS 6.1 (those letters and numbers are very important to justify the expense) sound system. I think my set up rivals most actual theaters. The one thing that it is missing, however, is the throng of people.
Anyway, back to going to the movies. After taking out a second mortgage to buy matinee tickets at a whopping $8.75 a piece and spending the gross national product of Latvia on a tub of popcorn the size of Puerto Rico and a Cherry Coke in what appeared to be a keg (only $.50 more for a large!) I worked my way through the fairly light crowd to theater number 73 for my afternoon showing of Harry Potter and the Pimple Cream Crown or something.
I got there early in order to see the trailers new movies I have no intention of seeing. I was instead greeted with advertisements for cell phone carriers and told what a great place a movie theater could be in the event of a birthday party or corporate meeting. I was also introduced to the new Fall line up of wonderful sitcoms on NBC. Seinfeld 2 Electric Boogaloo looked stellar.
The theater was moderate in size, maybe with seating for 200. I don't know. Maybe 500. Anyway, the joint was about 1/4 full. Not too many people there. Which is the way I liked it. I'm sitting in a comfy chair in roughly the middle area when in walks this lady who decided to sit right next to me. Not a seat or two over, but right next to me. I'm thinking maybe she's confused but nope, she just thinks it's a better idea to sit right next to me. Even my usual gas passing of justice (trademarked) did nothing to move this lady.
Eventually her husband joined her. In his wisdom he questioned why she felt the need to sit right next to me as well. Yay for him. So after debating she finally moved a seat over.
Thank Bacardi that was over.
Until the mother-in-law showed up.
This wonderfully round lady opted to reoccupy the seat between myself and the first personal space violator. The row has 25 seats in it. Why, oh why the need to sit next to me? Also, she smelled like old lady. That creepy mix of cat urine and caramel candy.
Before I could get up to move, the lights dimmed and the movie started.
Fine. I'd just stay put. There was someone else a couple seats over and moving to the other side wouldn't have worked and I didn't feel like changing rows in the dark. So Harry Pooter and the Half Wit Donkey starts up and I'm reminded that adult English actors are a treat to watch. British teen actors are like watching the surgery channel.... it's just gross, man. There's one child actor who I recall was a really ugly child and seems to be well on his way to becoming a really ugly adult. Oh well, at least there's Alan Rickman.
"WHAT'S THAT ACTORS NAME?"
The sound came from the creepy old lady to my right. Loudly.
"WHICH ONE IS HARRY POTTER?"
"WHAT DID HE SAY?"
At that point I began wondering if there was a way to choke someone out using a box of Goobers. A $25 box of Goobers.
Finally, Voldemort's mom quieted down. At least until it was time to open the buffet.
She'd brought in a large old lady bag full of food products. She started zipping, unzipping, and rustling through an entire Whole Foods (that's redundant) store worth of crap. Snack cakes. A Hostess Fruit Pie. A ham. A fistful of potato salad. I did finally draw the line. If she pulled out a hard boiled egg, I was going to kill her.
She didn't. After chomping through a pineapple, she finally stopped the feed. Then she sucked her teeth for the next hour.
I don't really know what the movie was about. There was a wand in it. Alan Rickman wore black. I think that's it. It was kinda like crossing Fast Times at Ridgemont High with Lord of the Rings... without the cleverness of character of Fast Times or the sense of scope and awe of the Rings films.
I'm so much looking forward to returning to the viewing comforts of my home theater. It costs less, is more comfortable, and I can choose who sits next to me.