Scorn Me at Your Own Peril

Several of my more high-strung friends (you know who you are) ironically seem to attract talkers in movie theaters. They almost always choose the wrong seat at the wrong time and end up sitting in front of incessant yappers who like to narrate the movie or provide colorful commentary. Sitting next to these friends, I can feel their blood pressure going up, and, invariably, they'll glare at, hush, or yell at the offenders, as I sink into my seat for fear of getting beat up.

I usually do a good job at tuning people out, and, when I'm at the movies by myself, I never seem to attract talkers in the first place. But last week at Hairspray, clear across the other side of the theater, some guy brought his children, and his son would not stop yapping loudly and screaming. Security had a talk with the guy and then left. But the boy continued to yap and scream.

About halfway through the movie, I got up in a fury, found an employee outside, and demanded to see a manager. When asked why, I said, "There's a child in there that's been talking nonstop throughout the whole movie, it's driving me fucking crazy, and, if your manager doesn't do something about it soon, I'm gonna kick that kid in the head!"

I went back inside, and several minutes later the manager came and escorted the man and his children out of the theater. Don't fuck with me, America.