Forcing Common Courtesy

Let me set the scene for you. Greasy floors, dim lighted rooms, germ infested seats and money fleeting from your wallets…  You guessed it. We are in a theater and are preparing ourselves for a 2 hour adventure of pleasure.  I adore visiting the theater. It’s ten times more exciting than watching it at home…well that can be stimulating too, but I will leave that to your imagination.  The smell of burnt popcorn. The immediate sensation of your pores  being overcome with grease, and the smell of others that you will have the pleasure of sitting next to in a dark, not knowing what the heck they have done previous to being next to you. I have a routine when I go to the movies…

1.       Decide what cinema I would like to waste 2 hours of my life on.

2.       Determine the time I will be viewing this show.

3.       Find a date, usually the hubby…not always.

4.       Buy the tickets.

5.       Groan and moan about the price of the tickets.

6.       Strive with hope to the concession stand.

7.       Hope deflates as I look at the prices of the trans fat globules that may enter my body.    

Ok this is taking way to long . We find our seats and I immediately put my feet up on the back of the seats in front of me to avoid the pleasant viewers following us, from sitting smack dab in front of us. Does it help? No.  They may think I am being rude and obnoxious, but their assumptions are all wrong. All I am doing is classically conditioning those around me to learn common courtesy. What do you mean, you ask? Well imagine an empty theatre. You are the first in the theatre and have your choice of infinite soiled seats. Joyous right? Who doesn’t want the best seat in town? Well now imagine sitting down, settling your treats, drinks and purse when those “people” and I use that term lightly, enter the theatre. They have drinks that will guarantee a few trips to the restroom, and enough popcorn that settles the mystery on why their body weight is more than Brian’s and my own combined. Well they have the second choice of seats. And of course, with my feet on the back of the chair, they sit right in front of us. REALLY!?! I am obviously saying to keep on walking, yet the plunder of your steps can’t continue, so you decide to stop and throw my future movie enjoyment in total disarray. I perceptibly am telling you that the seat in front of me is not an option, and am ever so bluntly telling you to keep walking and you don’t. You don’t?   My crap!