maternal – UPDATED 121406

So we went to see the new Bond flick tonight (oh yes… best Bond since Sean Connery, maybe even tied for first), and all through the opening scene there were these kids in the back row practically screaming with laughter. Not at the movie, because this was not a particularly funny scene. At themselves. Because they were just. so. funny. I had already shushed these people, loudly, in the opening credits. Yet they’d continued on through the opening scene.

I let it slide. For the moment. And then there was the ultra-cool end of the opening scene that I almost missed due to the absolute gaggle coming from the back of the theater. This is why we don’t actually go to the theater anymore. Ok. One of about five reasons. But Casino Royale? Frank has been itching to see this one for weeks! And today being our “anniversary,” I got a nice lunch after church at Yellow Dog Cafe (oh, I must tell y’all about how nice the waiters have been about my celiac disease this weekend, and how curious they’ve been), and Frank got to go see Bond. I mean, I’ve been wanting to see it, but I knew it would be in theaters at least through Christmas, but Frank rilly rilly wanted to go this weekend. And these little pipsqueaks half my age were back there yelling about anything but Daniel Craig and scream-giggling about how great their nail polish is.

I decided to give them through the opening credits.

After the opening credits, there was a fun action sequence at a construction scene, and then suddenly some ridiculously loud laughter and yelling from the kids in the back, and that’s when I just shot out of my chair. Frank was about two ticks behind me, as I saw that he had started to rise when I was just past his knees but already into the aisle.

He couldn’t pass me, because I had my future-mom walk on. I’m not sure where the words came from, but they just flew out of my mouth. The kids and the Flemings were the only people in the Bond theater, so I also had my stern dont-mess-with-me voice on. “This is not your own personal playground. I am about to have you thrown out of here. I paid thirteen dollars to see this movie. Okay? Thank you.”

By the time I had gotten to “playground,” the kids were completely silent. The fifteen year-old boy closest to the aisle was looking half at me, half at the screen and had the “please don’t tell my mom, I promise I’ll shut up” look going on. The thirteenish girl had that defiant “oh no you di-ihn’t” look on her face and was looking at the screen, but she didn’t give me any lip either, because I’m thinking all three kids believed I meant business. And I think the ten year-old boy next to her would have done push-ups in the aisle if I’d told him to; poor thing.

When I turned to go back to my seat, I noticed Frank was standing behind me backing me up. He had followed me up the aisle and was ready to back me up if needed, but didn’t see the point since I was doing fine on my own. He told me later that he had been about to spring out of his seat and I had barely beat him to it and what I had said was about as good as what he would have said.

That lasted about twenty minutes before Britney started her gigglefest again. She had apparently forgotten my thirty year-old cranky-walk! Anyway, I totally put it on again and slapped the door on my way out of the theater. RARR!

Of course, when I came back, they must have thought I had simply stormed out angrily for some Jujubees, but I had sweetly told the manager that some “kids” in the Bond movie were “out of control,” and I’d already approached them myself…

So about five minutes later, the manager came in and talked to the kids. I don’t know what the manager said, but whatever it was, it worked for good.

When we left the movie after the end credits, the kids were waiting for their parents to pick them up. If it weren’t our “anniversary,” and I were in a less benevolent mood, I would have waited for their parents so I could tell them how the kids were behaving… of course, it’s a crapshoot whether the parents would have cared…

Now somewhere there’s a little snotnosed brat writing on her myspace page about some evil hag shushing her in the movie theater and then having the gall to even go tattle to the mean theater manager about her! What a horrible old shrew! That woman wouldn’t know fun if it hit her right between the eyes! Which is something I should have done with my popcorn! But my mommy didn’t give me money for popcorn!

UPDATE: spacemonkey made a comment over at Conservative Grapevine that it’s a shame that it’s illegal to shoot people that do that.

i realize it would unfortunately have been illegal to let the little twits know that i was packing heat and that they really should just shut up. ;-)

but TRULY, the most unfortunate thing of all is that i did not think to switch guns for the occasion. i was carrying my .38 special snubby, and i should instead have accessorized with my beaUUUUtiful Walther P99 in honor of Bond. James Bond.

and for those of you visiting for the first time, welcome. you might like to read the story of how i got that P99. it almost got me arrested at the airport.

10 Responses to maternal – UPDATED 121406

  1. heh. Good for you.

    your inner nazi mom poked her head out.

  2. We saw it yesterday, also. The scene in the construction yard was really cool and though the credits called it ‘free running’ it is more part of a French thing called ‘parkour’. You see kids doing it over here and there are some wonderful vids on YouTube with young Frogs ripping through housing estates with nothing more than the shoes on their feet! Great stuff.

    On the movie, though, I thought it slowed down WAY too much towards the end. Sure, there was a need to build up the romance (my fiancee explained this to me – but I still don’t buy it completely) but it seemed to go on way too long. Still, not such a bad flick for a Sunday afternoon. :)

  3. hahaha! Well done, SarahK! You might not realize it, but you’ve just become the hero of thousand of theater-goers.
    Nowdays too many people spend the movie talking – and even if it’s about the movie, it doesn’t make it any less annoying. Not to mention the cell-phone concerts… I wish your method could work around here too, but there are simply to many big-mouths to go and catch them one by one.
    So you and Frank reacted in the same way, at the same time? That’s so sweet!
    I hope you enjoyed the movie anyway after that
    Happy Belated Anniversary :-)

  4. Please tell me you got free movie tickets out of it. Because I would have.

  5. Did you waggle your finger at them?? That helps sometimes. I’m pretty good at that.

  6. Now you know why, after the Super Bowl (cause that’s when they have the best deals), my husband and I are going to buy an HDTV with surround sound.

    I simply can’t go to the theater anymore and pay $10+ a ticket to listen to kids being idiots or listening to people pigging out on every bit of candy with crackly wrappers or getting the back of my seat kicked.

    I really really want to see the new Bond – but it will be on DVD at my house on my new TV… (of course it’s also nice that my kids are grown and gone and I can afford this *grin*)

  7. Hey, I have Celiac disease too! I don’t know many who do. We have a few restaurants here in Tucson that have Celiac menus. I wish more chefs would understand our inability to digest gluten-laden products. If only Chinese restaurants would use gluten-free soy and restrict the thickeners and deep-fried stuff to cornstarch coating, we could eat almost everything on the menu. Do you have any success talking to the cooks/chefs in restaurants?

  8. Congratulations on joining the ranks of the “defenders of their own ear space” mob. I am a charter member and appreciate anyone who stands up to these unruly, undisciplined, anarchist brats!

    Your story did remimd me of an experience I had many years ago (I’m twice your age) when a friend and I were at a movie theatre in Los Angeles. The couple next to us were chatting along during the opening credits and into the film in a completely normal conversational tone of voice. I leaned over and admonished them, saying that if they wished to chat, they should do so in the lobby.

    Their response was so priceless, I almost didn’t go call the manager: “We were speaking SPANISH!” As if that was going to lessen the rudeness. I went to the lobby, told the manager of the entire thing and, once we both stopped laughing at the absurdity of their response, he came down and gave them 2 choices: leave or shut up. They left!

  9. Yeah, and after those twits left the theater they decided to hang out at the Wal-Mart. And then I get to put up with them! Sheesh!