It's Saturday night! Meryl Streep has her teeth askew and her hair in a huge bouffant! I don't know about you, but this calls for a trip to the cinema for a good old-fashioned moving picture.
The Landmark Theater feels that is the pinnacle of the civilized movie-going experience, which must be why they have an employee "introduce" the movie. Does anybody else HATE that they do this? "If you have any questions or concerns during the movie, please find one of us in the burgundy shirts." My CONCERN is that you won't shut the hell up! People have been going to the movies chaperone-free for a century, no help is requrired from the living embodiment of the warbling, be-pimpled retail clerk from The Simpsons. The worst part is the few abject morons in the audience who always applaud when they're done with their announcement. "Now sit back, and enjoy "The Iron Lady." What are we applauding this pinhead for? He didn't do anything other than get a job at a movie theater and point to the exit signs as his paunchy gut strains the buttons on his burgundy shirt.
Although frankly, I would have taken the Landmark employees actually sitting down in the audience next to us in lieu of the two dunderheads who sat there instead. This middle-aged man and his wife had, in addition to stopping at the concessions stand AND a Coffee Bean, brought the majority of their pantry with them, and proceeded to chomp on popcorn, candy bars, and trail mix.
"That jacket makes you look like a Nazi," the wife said. "Everyone says that to me," the husband responds. "That's always the first thing people say to me when they see this jacket." I don't see you with the jacket on, so I'm not sure exactly what they mean, these "everyone".
"Where'd you get it?" the wife asks? "Century City," he says. "Ko-Han? Kohan? I don't remember the name of the store. Ironic though, right?"
The wife looks at the label. "Cole HAAN," she says. "Oh, yeah, that's it," he says back. This conversation could NOT have been made up.
Then, this happens:
I mean, Wow. This is pretty unabashed. The temptation to lean over and just say "I'm so sorry, can you help me? I think I'm lost. I've suddenly wound up in your living room" tugs mightily at my vocal chords.
The man then proceeds to snuffle and snort and clear his throat and readjust his position every thrity-seven goddamned seconds for the next two hours, interrupting his routine occasionally to shush his wife when she asks, as she did multiple times, a question about the movie at full volume. I shoot them death glares so virulent I think Meryl Streep might interrupt her drag queen-esque performance of Margaret Thatcher and give a diplomatic address on this husband and wife - as the movie continues I begin to contemplate planting a bomb in their car and blaming it on the IRA.
Shoeless man, have you no decency?! Never mind the fact that I purchased senior tickets for the $3 discount, and never mind that I will also occasionally take my shoes off in a movie theater, but not in the front row! And certainly not while the lights are on! We are living in a society, people! Keep your shoes on accordingly. And if you don't, I hope the same thing happens to you as it did to Margaret Thatcher's fleet in the Falkland Islands. Meanwhile, I have some socks to darn - I'm going to the movies later and sitting in the back.
Sincerely,
Dear Crabby
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