Just Another Saturday Night

To know me is to know that I delight in old people.  Senior citizens have always held a special piece of my heart.  I love them.  The older the better.   Except when they suck.  Which isn’t too often.  But last Saturday we had to try really really hard to stay positive and focus on the joy of our family when two of them tried their darndest to ruin our evening. (Just to give you an idea of their age, on the scale of seniority, they were babies.  Probably using their senior discount for only 3-5 years now.)

Ryan has been studying non stop for this test that he had to take for work.  Well, last week he passed it and in celebration and gratitude for the support and patience that the kids have offered him, Ryan told them that on Saturday, no matter what, we would take them to the movies.  Well, true to his word, we went and took in Mall Cop.  A movie advertised as a family movie, and rated PG.  It said the “A” word a few too many times for my liking in a kid movie but that is a different story.  So about 10 minutes before the movie ended, an ever ready, 15 year old Harkins employee by the name of Fabio taps me on the shoulder and whispers to me that he has received a complaint about my children being disruptive.  I smiled and told him that he must have been misinformed because my kids have been darn near silent during this whole movie going experience.  “Well, I am just telling you what I have heard, mam, and this is your warning.  If I have to talk to you again then we have to ask you and your family to leave.”  I was beyond shocked.  I am so overly paranoid about my kids being loud or otherwise disruptive that it usually borderlines on ridiculous. This night was no different.  I came prepared with a whole arsenal of snacks (some of them purchased at the theatre) I allowed them to stuff their gorgeous little faces during the whole movie.  They were so stunned by the amount of crap that they were being, not only allowed, but encouraged to intake that they didn’t make a peep.  As Fabio walked away, I looked up at the row above me and saw the special senior that issued an official complaint against our kids.  She was glaring at me with the purest intention to glare holes into my brain so as to open it up and suck out all of the secrets that my mind has ever dreamt of containing.  No such luck.  Those secrets are mine.  I have a tough skull and I glared my own holes in her eye sockets so that she would be blinded and trip on her way back to her seat ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE THEATRE.  She didn’t trip but I like to imagine that she peed a little. After the movie ended I told Ryan what had just happened.  He didn’t know about any of it.  He wasn’t very happy.  He did a little glance/glare up to the ever unpleasant couple.  They were sitting in their seats with the crustiest of expressions intended for our viewing pleasure. At that moment Crue started crying, for the first time mind you, and we realized that we didn’t have his binky.  He had dropped it.  I told Ryan that I would go down and ask Fabio (now that we are friends and all) to turn on the lights for us so that we could find it.  As I was talking to Fabio, he apologized and told me that it was just his job to talk to patrons when complaints arise and that he knew that they were probably being over sensitive and bla bla bla.  “Okay thanks Fabs.  Please turn on the lights.”  Then people started walking out of the theatre warning Fabio and the Theatre Sweeper In Training that there was about to be a fight in the theatre and that they might want to call for some help.  A couple of seconds later Sour Senior #1 came storming, and I do mean storming, out of the theatre with spit flying as she cursed and swore that she was demanding her money back.  Sour Senior #2 (the husband) came next following suit.  It was a pathetic showing, I tell you.  My kids (and Fabio and the Theatre Sweeper In Training) all stood there wide eyed and mouths gaping.  Ryan came next.  Apparently when I left the theatre to get the lights turned on, with Crue crying, Ryan thought that it might be educational to show them what a crying child really sounded like.  How can you educate unless you sit right down next to your students with your crying baby?  Needless to say, a war of words and unheard (by the senior citizens) logic ensued and Sour Senior #2 started dropping bombs that started with the letter “F”. (I am summarizing because my blog, like Mall Cop is rated PG).  It wasn’t pretty.  It left us all feeling a little bit shocked and disappointed.  I was determined to not end the evening on such a sour note.  So we talked to the manager (who had just given the Grumps 2 free movie passes) and told him what an excellent employee he had found in Fabio.  And that he handled himself with the utmost professionalism (as utmost as a 15 year old can).  The energy shifted a little bit and the negativity melted a tad. Then we talked to the kids about when it is appropriate to stand up for yourself and when you should walk away.  It was a good lesson.  It left me wondering though if I should take a course on Voodoo.  It’s on my list of things to do today to see if the local community college is offering one right now.  I wouldn’t really hurt the Baby Haters, but I would mess with their bowels.  I would fill them with Charity and explosive diarrhea, followed by bouts of uncomfortable gas with oily discharge.  So much for using their free movie passes.  Instead, they’d be home on the toilet wishing that they didn’t stink.  Is that too harsh?