Yesterday my wife and I saw There Will Be Blood, my last cinematic excursion until at least April. We went with another CHS teacher and his wife, meeting at the theater. As the women stood in line for overpriced snacks (free popcorn--thanks, Crown Club!), the men scoped out and saved seats in the #6 auditorium.
He and I were chit-chatting about the merits of Daniel Day Lewis's recent work when an elderly grouch in front of us turned around. "Excuse me," he snapped. "I didn't come to the theater to listen to you two talk."
We sat in stunned silence for about thirty seconds, and then busted out laughing. You see, he shushed us during the pre-preview commercials. Feeling no need to apologize, I eventually griped, "Yeah, well, I didn't come here to watch TV, but with these hard times, whaddayaget?" We turned to the folks behind us, who shrugged in sympathy.
Our spouses returned, snacks in hand. Five minutes later, the sound quit during the previews, a surreal, music video-esque experience. I ran out to find a manager, and then came back, explaining to the crowd that help was on the way. Crabby Pants just sat and stewed.
Once the show started, we were perfectly quiet angels throughout--so quiet that at the end, the wiseacre behind us said, "Okay, y'all can talk now."
I respect cinema. I respect the lovers of cinema. I turn off my cell phone and shut my yapper. That's part of my moral code.
But so is the First Amendment, and I'll exercise it during the commercials. Sorry.