Snacks And A Movie

Tomorrow is The Pony's birthday. He will be 12 years old. NO! He is my baby. And he acts like one, according to the #1 son, he who knows it all, being a worldly 15-going-on-40.

I took The Pony to see that Percy Jackson movie yesterday. The Lightning Thief, I believe, though that is false advertising, and I don't mean to ruin the movie for anybody, but Percy did not steal the lightning. No sirree, Bob! He might have ADHD and dyslexia and a bad attitude towards his stepdaddy, but our Percy is no criminal. The Pony says the movie was not true to the book, but are they ever? He heartily enjoyed it, and I was charmed by the goat-boy.

The Pony had his bowling league at noon, so I picked him up afterwards around 2:30 and we headed for the theater to wait to be seated. You see, we are persnickety about our seats. And because we had to stop by The Dollar Tree for some Buncha Crunch to sneak into the movie, there were four people in line ahead of us. The first two were a lady and a toddler. No big deal. I knew they would sit up front. The next two were a woman and her 30-something husband or boyfriend, which begs the question of why are they seeing this movie, unless Valentine's Day was all sold out, and if so, why were they so freakin' early that they were waiting for seating to begin on Percy Jackson thirty minutes before showtime. They annoyed me, because they would not close up the gap. You know, that empty space between them and the toddler lady and the ropes. Because people were crowding in behind us, and I just knew they would rush in and fill that space. Because that's how people are around here. They have no concept of personal space. If it's empty, it's theirs for the filling.

After several pointed comments about such space-wasting, directed at The Pony, but loud enough to be overheard by the Wasters, they still didn't get a clue. Behind us was a party of 10 known to The Pony and myself. A young lass had called out to The Pony as we were in the ticket line. According to The Pony, she was just a kid from the spelling bee. Her mother looked OH SO FAMILIAR, so I knew they were from our school and that I shouldn't get horsey. That's what my dad always said if one of us kids was acting up. "Don't get horsey." Then when we took our place in the Wait Corral, I spied the 6th grade teacher that #1 doesn't like because she tied his shoestrings together when he fell asleep on the bus to a field trip, and subsequently threatened her with, "I know who pays your salary." But we won't go down that road of extortion right now.

The Tie-er was with the party behind us, and they got a freakin' tub o'popcorn to pass the time, needing a refill by the time we were seated. The Tie-er told The Pony that she would be eating whatever The Pony had brought with him, which shook him up because he was keeping the contents of my purse top-secret due to my threats before we got out of T-Hoe. Not that he would say anything. The Pony is always the one who says, "But we're not supposed to take snacks into the movie." I don't see a problem with it. We buy their exorbitantly-priced popcorn and soda combo. No skin off their nose if we bring in candy or water. They're still getting an extra $11.75 out of us. More when #1 or HH go with us. So don't go crying any tears of sympathy for Kerasotes Theaters.

When the usher announced seating for Percy Jackson, we rushed to the last theater on the left. The Pony grabbed out seats at the back. The last four-seaters on the right side. The Tie-er and clan took up residence directly across from us on the center aisle. The spelling bee girl and mom took the row in front of us. No doubt they would have snatched our seats if we had been one minute later in line. Then the Tie-er called them over to sit in front of her row, because she said, "You know they will be moving people and packing them in like sardines." That left the row in front of us with only a boy and dad over by the wall, and a clear viewing of the screen for The Pony. Or so we thought. Until all the previews were over and the movie started and a man and woman and a freakin' newborn showed up and stood in the aisle and walked down and then back up and plopped down with a giant dad-head in front of The Pony. This was so irritating to me that I did not even feel bad when I experienced an hour-long bout of coughing (can't take Cheratussin while driving The Pony). Too bad, so sad. I coughed into my elbow because Janet Napolitano told me to and I don't want to end up on some hillbilly terrorist watch list, but the baby people didn't know I was coughing into my elbow. For all they knew, I was hacking germs onto their precious bundle of joy. The bundle which started screaming about 5 minutes into the movie, so the woman took it out, and then the dad followed, and then the mom came back and rooted around in the seats for something, and then they both came back, and then the dad went out for popcorn and soda, and then the baby spat out its nookie onto the carpeted aisle, and the mom picked it up and plopped it back in the baby's mouth, and then laid her head on the dad's shoulder, in between kissing him, blocking even more of The Pony's view of the screen.

But that's not the most heinous part of our adventure. Oh no. And it wasn't the busload of special people who stared at us for a long time before deciding to go a few rows down, and proceeded to talk back at the stepdaddy character during the closing credits. No. It was the people behind us, who consisted of a teenager of indeterminate sex, and a rather large woman who sat down but sat ON the armrests instead of fitting into the seat, even though that back seat has been made for just such a Junoesque figure, and has an aisle armrest that flips up to accommodate most people. I normally don't care who sits behind me, unless they are hacking up a lung, or stink of the unwashed like the last hillbilly family of four that sat behind us in a different theater and argued over how to turn off a cell phone.

The Back People were not so bad, except that they had brought food into the theater. I know! Have you ever heard of such a thing? I noticed it when I heard a SPPTTTT sound, and turned to see them opening up 20-oz bottles of soda. They placed them in the cupholders. Then they took out some bags of some kind of chip and proceeded to snack. This is even before the preview. Before I went out to wait in line for our popcorn combo behind people leaving the theater who just had to get refills for the road, thus making the movie-going customers wait and miss their showtime. I instructed The Pony to yell, "TAKEN!" to anybody trying to sit in our row. He inquired as to whether to say ALL the seats were taken, and I told him yes, to say that unless all the other seats were full, because we got there an hour before showtime, by cracky, and those latecomers could just sweat it out until absolutely necessary. The Pony wanted his Buncha Crunch, but I told him to wait until after I got the popcorn and soda.

When I returned, and The Pony had just started munching his butter-flavored salt, the head usher came in. He's a portly fellow, in a white shirt and tie, and commands the other ushers. I would say he's the manager, but I'm sure that fellow is ensconced in an office with hidden camera monitors and his sock feet up on a desk. The HU always stands at the back of the theater, by the trash can, and surveys his kingdom during the previews. When the movie starts, he steps out and closes that swinging door that kids fling open so that it sticks and The Pony has to get up and close it. The HU noticed the Back People's transgression. Only the teen was sitting there at the time. The HU said, "We don't allow outside food to be brought into the theater. That will have to be thrown away, or put in a vehicle." The teen said, "No problem." It sat there a moment, perhaps waiting for the return of the chair-topper. The HU stayed until they picked up their stuff and went out. Lucky for them, nobody grabbed their seats before they returned.

After the HU left, I told The Pony to hand me my purse. I took out his Buncha Crunch, and my Sixlets, and later some cotton candy. You see, you have to bring in food that the theater actually sells, or put it in a baggie and let it rest in the popcorn bag, and keep a beverage in your purse with the lid on. I should have enlightened the Back People for next time. I know they wanted to narc on us, because we were snacking throughout the movie, and they were not. But they must have feared further interaction with the Head Usher.

Always an adventure when you attend movies in Hillmomba.