Johnny has been begging me for the last two weeks to go to the movie theater with him. I’m not a super huge fan of going to the movies, but Johnny LOVES it. I am especially not a fan of scary movies. Johnny LOVES them. I was told that Cloverfield was a comedy. Sure, I’ll go.
Johnny sent me multiple text messages throughout the day reminding me of the precise moment we would have to leave our house in order to make it to the theater with ample time to buy outrageously expensive junk food and get “the best seats”. Johnny is pretty particular about his movie theater seats as am I. We like top row, right in the center.
As it happened the theater was almost empty at show time. Excellent! We got our perfect seats and snuggled up with our large buttered popcorn which, I might add, is only 50 cents more than a medium.
Three people walked in right after the movie started. They must have noticed the other 291 empty seats in the theater. I am dead serious when I say that they sat down DIRECTLY IN FRONT of Johnny and I. Who does that?
As it turns out, Johnny and I are adults, thus we have all of the coping mechanisms associated with maturity that should have enabled us to deal with the inconsiderate butt heads sitting in front of us.
We left the house 45 minutes early in order to secure those seats. This was WAR! I started in with a little passive aggressive loud-shaking-of-the-candy. Johnny followed suit with a very impressive display of hacking and coughing.
These people didn’t get it and they weren’t moving.
We reluctantly moved two seats to the right and enjoyed the rest of the movie. FYI: Cloverfield is not a comedy. And I’m not sure why, but I know for the next two weeks Johnny will be walking around squawking like a giant alien-dinosaur.
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