My father and I took the girls to see Mirror Mirror last night. However, if you’re looking for a review outside of “I rather enjoyed it”, you’re in the wrong place. I’m mad as a wet bigger fish to fry the bee in my bonnet. Nonsensical mismatching of idioms. That’s where I am in my anger right now.
I realized the girls have never seen an evening movie. You read that right. My children, at ages 11 and 8, have never been to the movies after 6:00 p.m. I’m trying to give them memories outside of me breaking promises or yelling about sweeping, homework, and who ate the last of the chips, so we went last night at 7:00. My father joined us because, well, the option to spend time with his grandchildren = Grandpops jumps.
Throughout the majority of the movie there was talking from three girls seated behind us, in the top row. They weren’t watching the movie. Rather, they had their cell phones out discussing “ew, why she got her ass out on Facebook?” I noticed a few people around us, my girls included, rolling their eyes, looking back a few times. The girls were loud. They were talking, laughing, oblivious to the glares (or, more likely, simply seasoned veterans at tuning out adults). Every few minutes the girls would settle down and whisper. Still irritating, but not as rude.
Eventually, though, even my father, who is an extremely patient man (he’ll sit through movies inducing the desire the stab everyone (including yourself to get away from the movie) like Alvin & the Chipmunks. PATIENCE EPITOMIZED)). By the third time he looked back, (and the fact I literally could not hear the movie; I had missed at least two lines that people were laughing at. You know how loud the surround sound is. They were besting the surround sound!), I had to say something. I thought first, though, how best to say it, “shut the fuck up, you ignorant, adolescent heathens” likely not removing potential physical confrontation.
Let me explain first that teen girls in my area are just as apt to want to fight as the boys. Remember that Jeffersons episode where George is stabbed? Girl gangs exist. (If you don’t remember that episode or the show and either is because you weren’t old enough to watch, please don’t tell me). After 6:00 p.m., there aren’t many ushers in the theatre, so kids pretty much movie hop.
What if they get smart? How will I react?
What if they try to fight? I have my kids with me.
Do not make me go into protection mode.
I can take at least two of them. I wonder if my father would accidentally push one down the stairs for me.
Screw this. I paid for this movie. I want to be able to actually hear it.
“Ladies. Would you please be a little more quiet? We can’t hear the movie.”
A LITTLE MORE QUIET? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO QUIETER? UGH I DISLIKE YOU, NERVOUSNESS.
I’d made eye contact with the main talker. She closed her mouth, but then sucked her teeth and they all started laughing. Loudly. Then they whispered among themselves, stood up, and left. As they passed my seat the thoughts hit me again.
If they bump my chair, what will I do? I’ll have to do something or they’ll think this behavior has no consequences.
Don’t say anything; it’s not your problem. They have no home training, no respect. It’s their parents’ responsibility, not yours.
They are old enough to conduct themselves better than this. Their parents have failed them, save all the children!
Grab one of them to show the other two what’s up. Flip her little ass down a few rows and look at them like WHAT NOW, WENCHES?
It didn’t matter. No one bumped my seat. No one said anything further.
Until they were at the bottom of the stairs and one said, “She a old ugly bitch anyway.”
I kept my eyes forward, even ate a bit more popcorn as I noticed my girls staring at me for a reaction. I smiled and kept watching the movie, even though I wanted to run down those stairs yelling, “I got your old, ugly bitch, bitch!” I had visions of kicking one in the stomach, smashing the forehead of another into the banister, and doing a roundhouse to the throat of the third. (I saw Safe House the night before; I think the violence was still with me. Makes me believe there is some truth to kids being negatively persuaded. incited to violence by video games, movies, and song lyrics).
But seriously. What good would have come of my acting that way? My girls would have learned that fighting is the answer rather than simply standing up for yourself when necessary. There is a line from the Lion King where Mufasa is explaining to Simba that he is only brave when he needs to be. In other words, he doesn’t look for trouble. Had I followed those ignorant girls, I would have been looking for a fight, an unbalanced one at that. Had things gone a different way, I could have always sought a manager or usher. I’m glad it ended the way it did, but I wish it hadn’t happened at all.
I hate that I was afraid of what they might do, how they might react, what they might say. I was afraid they’d do or say something to my girls. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop myself if it escalated. I don’t like that rude little girls were able to frighten me. I don’t like that my girls made unsure faces at me, not knowing what would happen. I don’t like that my vision of using my shoe as a boomerang to the back of the third one’s head wasn’t reality.
Also, I am so not old.