Joe and I went to see 2012 Monday afternoon, as you may have guessed from my last post. It wasn’t an altogether flawless movie experience, though. Approximately 2/3’s of the way through the movie, we noticed theatre attendants helping a couple to seats in the row just past the row I like to sit in, where I can put my feet on the railings. We didn’t think anything of it until a few minutes later, when the man started talking really loudly. Then the woman took a header and landed face first on the floor. The man began loudly berating her for her clumsiness. Then she was groveling on the floor–I thought maybe she’d dropped something, but never did figure out what was going on. Then he began talking really loudly, etc. through the last third of the movie, despite some subtle and not-so-subtle shushing by other theatre patrons who were very annoyed.
As soon as the movie was over, I bolted for the bathroom, making sure to go behind the crazy couple instead of in front as I normally would. Joe bolted to ask for a refund from the manager. We left with readmission tickets. While we were strolling through the mall, a few women came up to us and asked if we were in the theatre with them. We commiserated with them, and told them the theatre would give them readmission tickets so they could try watching the movie again another time. Apparently the couple had been drinking (big surprise), and the man claimed he had been injured in an auto accident, hence the help getting into the theatre. Anyway, everyone there probably asked for a refund. It wasn’t fun.
Today I decided it was massage day. I’ve missed getting my weekly massage for several weeks, and my back was really hurting. So Joe decided to meet me at the mall so we could try again to see 2012. Got the massage. It was lovely. Had dinner. It was good. Got chocolate. Mmmm. Bought a pair of glasses. Expensive.
Then it was movie time. Things started off well–the popcorn wasn’t stale, like it was on Monday, and there were fewer people in the theatre, and no one who appeared to be drunk. We made it through the previews, and then it started. Someone in the row behind me was farting. Let’s just say I didn’t realize it because it was loud. Joe asked if I wanted to move to another seat, but I kept thinking it would stop. It didn’t.
And then a guy walked in wearing a pimp suit and red hat and shoes, carrying a metallic briefcase. As soon as he walked in, my prickles went off and I wanted to leave. But hey–it was the second time we were trying to see the movie (and trust me when I tell you that my suspension of disbelief was far less willing than it was the irst time), and I didn’t want to make Joe leave.
The person behind me kept gassing, so I told Joe sure, let’s move to another seat. Yay! Fresh clean air!
Someone walked into the theatre and sat down in the seat immediately in front of Joe, right by the exit. What are all these people doing, coming in way after the movie started? He sits there for a while, then gets up and walks out.
Two minutes later, pimp dude walks out. My hackles rose again. Joe leaned over and asked if I wanted to leave, and I did, so we did.
What was going on? Drug deal? Gun deal? Terrorist attack? (I’m kidding about the last one. I think.) Whatever it was, we were both uncomfortable about remaining in the theatre.
And we’re not going to try again. Apparently the powers that be have decreed that we will never see 2012 in its entirety in the theatre. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.