Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Reasons I’m getting old: A night at the cinema

I have decided that I cannot possibly go to the cinema anymore (I get a secret thrill about calling it the cinema as it makes me feel very sophisticated. Please don’t judge.) When you go to the cinema, you see, you are entirely too dependent on the people around you to be reasonable and sane, quiet and somewhat still. Most people in the cinema are reasonable and sane, of course, but every now and then you get one bird-brained knucklehead who breaks the social contract – you know the proper movie-going etiquette.

Take last Sunday night, for instance. While visiting some friends in Mill Valley for the long weekend (by-the-way, does anybody want to donate to my “Mill Valley house fund?” I have found the neighborhood I want to live in, I just do not have the income to support it, Thanks.) we decided to leave Daisy in the very capable hands of a grandma-to-be and saw The King’s Speech, which I ended up really liking, by the way. Of course I could watch Colin Firth give a tutorial on pencil drawing in Ukrainian for five hours, so maybe I am not the best judge of character. Also, I have an unnatural love for the British monarchy. In fact I watched the NBC Tom Brokaw Dateline Special on Prince William, Kate Middleton & and the Prince of Wales half a dozen times before my DVR died.

Anyway, back to my big double date at the cinema. We arrived literally seconds before the movie started, I have a pathological fear of being late to the movies, and I get an actual feeling of dread if I walk in and all the back aisle seats are taken. (I have been known to get sick in theaters, so I need to sit in the back, and able to make a quick exit if needed, but that is neither here nor there), and if the aisle seats are all taken and you have to be that person who goes excuse me pardon me sorry as you shuffle past with your either your front towards them or your back towards them, and oh god, I am breaking out in hives just thinking about it – and the theater was about three-fourths full, with four seats in a row, usually a bit rare for a movie just seconds from starting.

We’d been sitting in them for the first preview when I got the first kick to my chair. “Did you feel that?” I asked J, “Yes, just ignore it”, he said. Halfway through the next preview, there was loud giggling and another jolt. I turned around and glared at my assailant. “You can’t feel that?” I said to J, “doesn’t it completely annoy you? Who do these kids think they are? Can’t they just stay seated in their seats? Why do they have to continually cross and uncross legs, stand up, sit down, and kick my seat?”

So, I sat through the entire movie with a pounding to my lower back, of course, I tried to imagine I was getting a deep tissue massage on my lower lumbar while watching a serious movie about a royal stutter. After the movie, I wanted to let the teenagers know exactly how much they bugged me, but I thought that might make me seem a tad older than my 30 years. And anyways, what would have they done if I stood up, flexed my muscles, and announced I was making a citizen’s arrest because two teenagers couldn’t keep still during a 2-hour feature film, and I needed to call their mothers.

Probably, laughed in my face.

So that’s why I’ve decided I can’t go to the cinema anymore: as you might now suspect because it could be full of antsy teenagers. And there’s no guarantee it won’t be, you know? It’s all down to fate! So, I’d rather stay home, wait for the DVD on Netflix, and watch my movies from the comfort of my couch, with a proper back rub from my husband.

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