So the other night, I decided to take my 6-year old daughter to the theater to see the movie, "Megamind". After we pay our $582.50 for two tickets, popcorn, gummy worms, and drinks, we walk into a totally deserted theater, select out seats, and sit down.
The previews are playing, we've got about 5 minutes to go before the movie begins, and we have the place completely to ourselves.
Then, all of a sudden, we're not alone. An 18-year-ish old gentleman and his buddy walk in, scan the entirely empty 250 seat theater, and decide that the only place to sit is....right smack in front of me and my daughter.
icard:
At this point, about 500 things are running through my mind...not the least of which being threat analysis. As a former military officer, when people suddenly and obviously place themselves in your personal space, you tend to wonder, "Why?". After a quick visual 360, I determine that we're still the only people in the theater.
And then he does it: The kid looks over at his buddy, gives a kind of half grin and an incremental chin lift, like "Heh...I'll bet he's real pissed".
:nuke:
And the thing of it is....now I WAS pissed. It was like he blew a quick breath on my smoldering temper, fanning it into a hot flame. A powdered aluminum and iron (3) oxide kind of hot.
See, I'm 50% Hungarian by birth, which means that, under certain conditions, I can go from zero to Latrell Sprewell in about a nanosecond. I'm not proud of it, but it's also not something I can completely repress.
Okay, so now I'm in the throes what my wife likes to call my "Will ain't afraid to descend to their level" phase. Options running through my mind include, "If I had BK's DSSD on my wrist, I could smack him with that. Nah...That'd be Murder 1 for sure. If Maty were here, he'd blow a cloud of smoke at the guy, make him cough and leave.
:maty:
Nope...nope... Hmmm...what would JC7 do? Yeah, I could yell at him, and then go buy him some popcorn or something.
:baby:
No....what else? If datsun were here, he'd....well, he'd be super nice to the guy. Dammit."
:dustin:
So I just leaned forward, and mindful of the fact that a 6-year old was sitting right next to me, I said in a normal tone of voice, "You're kidding, right? 200 seats in this theater and you have to sit RIGHT IN FRONT OF US?" (Okay, maybe I was a little louder than absolutely necessary). The kid froze like a deer in headlights. And then, bless his little heart, he sticks his chin out and says, "Yep. This is where we're sitting."
***Side Note***
See, I always get yelled at for the times when I'm too sarcastic, or the times when I DO make some idiot feel like crap for breathing too much of my oxygen. I never get a medal for the times when I DON'T reach out, clamp my hands around someone's neck, and squeeze until I hear something pop, when they OBVIOUSLY deserve it.
***Back to the story***
I tell the kid and his boyfriend that we were here first, that it's a huge theater, and he doesn't exactly need to sit directly in front of us in order to obtain a clear view. He looks at his sweetheart, shrugs, and says, "We're not moving". Which I can totally respect, because the other 50% of me is Scottish, and when I dig in my heels, the universe may as well change, because I certainly am not going to.
At this point, I'm about to press the issue, because, you know, I'm in the right (duh!), and never mind that between the two of them, they look like they could bench press a Buick. Then I feel a tiny hand creep into mine, and look over at my daughter, and she smiles at me and asks if we can go get some more popcorn. To which I respond, "Sure, honey," and we stand up. As we stand, and I turn around to get our jackets, my elbow accidentally (I swear!) makes contact with idiot boy's head.
icard2:
He shoots up out of his seat, whirls around with his arms out to the side, in a "Yeah, bitch, what time is it?!" fashion.
:girlfight:
To which I respond by growling, "I wouldn't if I were you", and then slowly putting on my flight jacket, which is festooned with patches and rank tabs, etc.
:anopsis:
In my brain, at this point I'm contemplating having to explain to a 6 year old exactly how daddy got his butt kicked in a totally unnecessary physical confrontation, that yes, it's actually true that 43 year old boys DO cry sometimes, and why it's not nice to fight with people, etc.
And of course, that's when the kid looks at my daughter, looks at my jacket, mumbles an apology, and takes his buddy with him, adjourning to the left side of the theater, a few rows forward.
We exit to the opposite aisle, go out to the lobby, refresh our drinks and popocorn, make our way back into the theater, and watch the movie uneventfully. I was completely amazed at the turnaround of the kid, and wondered at could have caused it.
opcorn:
My wife says it was my cool-headed way of not acting intimidated by the impending violence (I was honestly about 0.6 seconds from shitting my pants). I think it was because he realized there was a little kid right next to me.
But in the aftermath, all I could focus on was the thought that if I had had BK's DSSD on my wrist, it would have made my left jab a little weightier.
I better get one super quick.
The previews are playing, we've got about 5 minutes to go before the movie begins, and we have the place completely to ourselves.
Then, all of a sudden, we're not alone. An 18-year-ish old gentleman and his buddy walk in, scan the entirely empty 250 seat theater, and decide that the only place to sit is....right smack in front of me and my daughter.
icard:At this point, about 500 things are running through my mind...not the least of which being threat analysis. As a former military officer, when people suddenly and obviously place themselves in your personal space, you tend to wonder, "Why?". After a quick visual 360, I determine that we're still the only people in the theater.
And then he does it: The kid looks over at his buddy, gives a kind of half grin and an incremental chin lift, like "Heh...I'll bet he's real pissed".
:nuke:
And the thing of it is....now I WAS pissed. It was like he blew a quick breath on my smoldering temper, fanning it into a hot flame. A powdered aluminum and iron (3) oxide kind of hot.
See, I'm 50% Hungarian by birth, which means that, under certain conditions, I can go from zero to Latrell Sprewell in about a nanosecond. I'm not proud of it, but it's also not something I can completely repress.
Okay, so now I'm in the throes what my wife likes to call my "Will ain't afraid to descend to their level" phase. Options running through my mind include, "If I had BK's DSSD on my wrist, I could smack him with that. Nah...That'd be Murder 1 for sure. If Maty were here, he'd blow a cloud of smoke at the guy, make him cough and leave.
:maty:
Nope...nope... Hmmm...what would JC7 do? Yeah, I could yell at him, and then go buy him some popcorn or something.
:baby:
No....what else? If datsun were here, he'd....well, he'd be super nice to the guy. Dammit."
:dustin:
So I just leaned forward, and mindful of the fact that a 6-year old was sitting right next to me, I said in a normal tone of voice, "You're kidding, right? 200 seats in this theater and you have to sit RIGHT IN FRONT OF US?" (Okay, maybe I was a little louder than absolutely necessary). The kid froze like a deer in headlights. And then, bless his little heart, he sticks his chin out and says, "Yep. This is where we're sitting."
***Side Note***
See, I always get yelled at for the times when I'm too sarcastic, or the times when I DO make some idiot feel like crap for breathing too much of my oxygen. I never get a medal for the times when I DON'T reach out, clamp my hands around someone's neck, and squeeze until I hear something pop, when they OBVIOUSLY deserve it.
***Back to the story***
I tell the kid and his boyfriend that we were here first, that it's a huge theater, and he doesn't exactly need to sit directly in front of us in order to obtain a clear view. He looks at his sweetheart, shrugs, and says, "We're not moving". Which I can totally respect, because the other 50% of me is Scottish, and when I dig in my heels, the universe may as well change, because I certainly am not going to.
At this point, I'm about to press the issue, because, you know, I'm in the right (duh!), and never mind that between the two of them, they look like they could bench press a Buick. Then I feel a tiny hand creep into mine, and look over at my daughter, and she smiles at me and asks if we can go get some more popcorn. To which I respond, "Sure, honey," and we stand up. As we stand, and I turn around to get our jackets, my elbow accidentally (I swear!) makes contact with idiot boy's head.
icard2:He shoots up out of his seat, whirls around with his arms out to the side, in a "Yeah, bitch, what time is it?!" fashion.
:girlfight:
To which I respond by growling, "I wouldn't if I were you", and then slowly putting on my flight jacket, which is festooned with patches and rank tabs, etc.
:anopsis:
In my brain, at this point I'm contemplating having to explain to a 6 year old exactly how daddy got his butt kicked in a totally unnecessary physical confrontation, that yes, it's actually true that 43 year old boys DO cry sometimes, and why it's not nice to fight with people, etc.
And of course, that's when the kid looks at my daughter, looks at my jacket, mumbles an apology, and takes his buddy with him, adjourning to the left side of the theater, a few rows forward.
We exit to the opposite aisle, go out to the lobby, refresh our drinks and popocorn, make our way back into the theater, and watch the movie uneventfully. I was completely amazed at the turnaround of the kid, and wondered at could have caused it.
opcorn:My wife says it was my cool-headed way of not acting intimidated by the impending violence (I was honestly about 0.6 seconds from shitting my pants). I think it was because he realized there was a little kid right next to me.
But in the aftermath, all I could focus on was the thought that if I had had BK's DSSD on my wrist, it would have made my left jab a little weightier.
I better get one super quick.
