Seriously, I can’t be the only one who has had their movie experience ruined by the following:
1) The Suspect – Have you noticed there’s always that one guy who comes strolling in well after the movie has started and who bears an uncomfortable and uncanny resemblance to The Unabomber? I’m saying, it’s the middle of July, so I kinda get the aviator glasses. But why is dude wearing a hooded parka and snow boots?
2) The Slow Poke – I’m not talking about the old or the impaired. I’m talking the ditz adrift in their own little La-La land, totally oblivious to the angry and restless horde behind them. You know, the lady holding up the concession line because she’s just now trying to decipher the 15 different snack requests of the 15 school kids she’s chaperoning? Or the bonehead who can’t finish his ticket transaction because he’s too busy sharing aloud the grisly details of somebody named Frank’s botched colonoscopy? Jeez, wrap it up and get a move on, will ya?!
3) The Space Invader – Okay, given the rows and rows of empty seats, why must the lady with the 15 kids or the scruffy dude who’s dressed like The Unabomber and toting an oversized backpack, cop a chair right next to or directly behind me?
4) The Untable Mannered – Hey, I’m a popcorn lover, so I totally get it. But if you must sit right next to or directly behind me, for the love of all that’s sacred, try to remember what your mama taught you about chewing with your mouth closed! I mean, at least try to keep all of the smacking, slurping, teeth-sucking, and worse to a minimum.
5) The Sleeper – Really, I can appreciate that you probably are exhausted having spent the first 15 minutes of the movie grunting and slurping your way through a trough-sized bucket of popcorn and a bucket-sized drink. But give me a break. The nodding and slobbing is bad enough, especially since you’ve insisted on parking your ill-mannered behind right next to me, but the snoring? Dude, how am I (or anyone else, for that matter) suppose to enjoy the flick, much less hear it, with you snorting and gasping every few seconds like a bull moose in heat and one who, from the ghastly sound of things, just might be in dire need of a cpap machine?
6) The Seat Kicker – What gives with the person who is constantly all up on the back of your chair, kicking and kneeing, bumping and grinding and carrying on? And why is this person usually someone 5’2 and under, as well as typically a grown ass adult who dang well ought to know better? I mean, either this little person’s legs grow exponentially as soon as their butt hits the seat or their knees suddenly swell to the size of bowling balls.
7) The Chatter Box – Seriously, you’re gonna talk through the whole dang movie? I just knew that after the “coming attraction” previews Ms. Loquacious would settle down and in the words of Archie Bunker “stifle herself.” But no. She kept right on gabbing (and in a voice several octaves above a whisper) to the poor sap she’d undoubtedly drug along as her date for the evening. That, my friends, is the closest I’ve ever come to cussing out a little old lady–at least one who wasn’t a friend or family member.
8) The Film Malfunction – Fluttering screens, sound issues and the like, I can take. But when the screen suddenly goes dark right in the middle of the movie, I’m good for maybe all of thirty seconds. At the thirty second mark, I’m squirming and checking for the whereabouts of the Unabomber Look-a-Like. Another twenty seconds or more and I’m gathering my things and heading for the nearest exit. ‘Cause, really, why take any chances? Besides, there’s not much joy in sitting up in the dark listening to Chatty Cathy, and the snorer making wild-life noises, and the slob who sounds like he’s auditioning for either a hot-dog eating contest or a dog food commercial–and all while I’m steadily being kicked and poked in the back by a little person with restless leg syndrome.
Obviously, in addition to being overly paranoid, I’m an idiot-magnet who really ought to just stay at home and watch cable or Netflix by my damn self. Sigh.