By Muriel Lilker
“Don't worry so much,” my husband says, as I complain that the people behind us are too noisy. “They'll stop talking once the movie starts.”Guess what happens when the movie starts?”Oh, is this the one where the lawyer cheats on his wife?” we suddenly hear.”Hey,” I hiss to my husband, “shouldn't we say something to them?””We” doesn't work here. My husband, who didn't want to see this movie in the first place, now pretends he doesn't even know me. Which means it's up to me to turn around in my seat and ask, “Could you please not talk during the movie?””Who, me?” the lady says, “I haven't said a word.”Yeah, sure. The only ones who aren't talking loud enough are the people in the film. Yet, believe it or not, they do quiet down. But no sooner does the talking stop than the kicking begins.This can't be the ladies, who are further along the row. Whoever's doing this must be directly behind me.Should I wait a minute or two for it to stop? It doesn't, so I turn around and spot a young boy as the culprit.Are those his parents? Do they know they've bred a kicker?”Say,” I whisper to them, “your son is kicking my chair.””He is?” asks the father, incredulously. “Ralphie,” he finally says, “you don't want to kick the lady's chair.”The heck he doesn't. Especially with a father who probably says, “Ralphie, you don't want to hit the cat with the baseball bat.”Maybe his foot started to hurt, 'cause Ralphie finally stops making contact with the back of my chair.At last! Now I can finally catch up with the movie.But what's that crackly sound? Paper? Worse, what's that smell?”Malcolm,” says a woman down the row, “guess what I have for you.”We don't have to guess. We know a salami sandwich when we smell it.I pinch my nostrils together and hope that Malcolm eats fast.What now? Is that a man on a cell phone? Good lord!”Hey, you should have come too,” he says. “This looks like a good one.”If we're lucky he won't talk too much. We're not lucky. Our fellow movie-goer exults in telling people what he's sure is going to happen next, whether they want to know it or not.Why did we have to pick this row? It's the noisiest, smelliest one in the whole theater.You know something? Next time we want to see a movie, we'll rent one. Blockbuster, here we come!Reach contributing writer Muriel Lilker at news@timesledger.com.
