Saturday night in the Yellow. Since I'm drawn to movies of the horror variety, I'm usually drawn to a local theater on, perhaps, a weekend. Such was the case last night. In fact, it was the rare occassion that I can actually pull along my lovely wife because she hates sitting through these movies. It was The Grudge 2 on opening weekend.
And it's PG-13.
We're standing in line and there's juveniles everywhere. It was like an idiot epidemic. I can't wait to have one of my own. It's like they were multiplying in front of my eyes (and maybe they were). We were in line and I kept hearing the two kids in front of mentioning to their passing friends that they were going to see The Grudge 2. I'm thinking, at this point, this could be a mess. I'll be damned if I'm going to let anyone tell me I'm not a sport, though.
We enter the theater and it's like that scene in Gremlins when they go to the theater. It's complete pandemonium. There is no control in this theater and the previews have begun to roll so house lights are off and my lovely wife and I are searching for seats in a theater of about 300 unruly kids.
There's literally no stopping a mob of this size. My lovely wife and I spot two seats up front in the handicap section. We grab them. Sit down and begin watching the previews.
While I'm sitting there, I'm hushed in amazement, wonderment at the noise level accomplished by these punk ass kids. Amazing. Behind me was a girl who was cussing to impress her friends. Every time she said a magic word, her friends laughed. Another kid down the aisle from me was on his phone yelling his snack bar order to a buddy outside the theater. He forgot the pacifier. Then there's a girl walking in front of us refusing to actually find a seat yelling, "It's because we're black and loud, girl!" I'm lying to myself, "It'll get quiet once the movie starts."
Now I feel like a sitting duck. I feel like standing up and planting a heel in the chest of everyone making more noise than breathing. My lovely wife grabs my hand and asks, "Are you gonna make it?" The correct answer to this question is, "Hell no," yet at this moment, I'm in such a state of bewilderment, I fail to answer with anything.
It was literally like being buried alive in a coffin full of hungry rats.
Then, before I flip my lid and send of these kids flying four rows up with cell phone cramed down his throat, the silhouette of a man carrying a walkie talkie (geez, do they still call 'em that) walks by with a flashlight and now I'm thinking, "Cool, the manager's gonna start plucking these kids from their seats and send them back to their mama's minivan."
"Alright, folks. The movie has begun and we've already received complaints about the noise level in this theater. Now, shut up, find a seat and put the cell phones away or we're gonna start kicking you out of here."
Okay, the dude had no tact, but I kinda felt, at that moment, we could probably get this situation under control. Then, not but two minutes after that, a tall cop comes in and I'm thinking, "Start whackin' 'em with your billy club like baby seals!"
"Kids, shut up right now. People came to watch the movie and not to hear you talk. If I get one more complaint from this theater and have to come back in here, we'll start pulling you out of here. Shut up and watch the movie."
And then he did his one warning pass with the flashlight where he kinda shines it on a slow pan of the audience like, "Don't make me use this flashlight. I ain't afraid to use it."
He leaves, unfortunately for me, with no one in cuffs.
It became quieter, however. Of course, I had to endure the barking of a manager and cop like I was in pre-school again. That was until the first jump of the movie.
You know this kid. His real name is Yuya, but in the movie he plays a ghost boy named Toshio. Yeah, at first site of this kid, the whole place goes up in nothing short of a deafening and totally unnecessary shreik of terror. I mean, creepy? Yes. So scary you wet your pants and belt out of the loudest screeches ever heard to man? No, but they're teenagers and, like my wife mentioned, "It's cool to be loud."
At this point, I begin to boil and, being that I don't really like aggravation (like the woman who came out and complained then went right back into the theater), my wife and I stood up, walked out and asked politely for our money back which we were granted without issue.
Here's the deal, I don't like kids. That's my lovely wife's job. I work in an office. My lovely wife works with juveniles or adults who act like them. I don't have the tolerance for other peoples' kids and that's why I don't work in the corrective field. My lovely wife has a gift for it.
Actually, it's not completely accurate to say that "I don't like kids." I like well-behaved kids, but really, who doesn't? I mean, this was an instant where the parents drop the kids off, they go bananas because their parents aren't there, there's no control, there's no consequence and it's a place just ready to go up. I never was that loud in a theater and I told my lovely wife, "Even if I was twelve years old, I would've been annoyed with that volume level."
So, here's the rule: No more j3 movie expeditions on Friday or Saturday nights, opening weekends and/or Thanksgiving and Christmas. I simply won't do it. If I wanted a babysitting job, I would quit my day gig, adopt twenty kids who crap their pants, sit around and watch "The Price is Right."
Crap, talk about feeling old.