I was at the movies recently with my husband, Paul. As the previews started, I heard a man behind us and to our left talking to his wife. Alarm bells go off for me when this happens, but most people shut up once the feature begins.
This couple did. Unfortunately, as an, um, “romantic scene” began, the man blurted out, loudly, “What are they doing?”
The wife replied with some kind of euphemism, such as “making out.”
Oh, no. Were we in for a challenging experience?
Yes, we were.
The man asked his question at least three more times during the course of the movie, all during scenes of passion. Then, at the culminating scene, the point the movie had been moving toward for nearly two hours, the wife exclaimed, “I don’t know what’s going on!”
Their behavior very nearly ruined the film for me. Now, I am not heartless. This man might have had an underlying health issue that wasn’t obvious. If so, he has my sympathy. However, from my point of view, moviegoers have a reasonable expectation that they can watch their show without frequent interruption.
I take watching films seriously. I carefully choose what I’m going to watch by reading reviews and closely watching previews. So I’m rarely disappointed. My bad cinematic experiences are usually due to other viewers.
In hindsight, Paul or I should have notified the cinema staff that there was a problem. But then we’d have to miss part of the movie. And I’m not sure how this man would have reacted. It might have gotten ugly. Another member of the audience did say something to him, and he retorted loudly and angrily. For a minute, I thought there might be fisticuffs.
One of my friends told me she had a similar experience at a theater in Boston. Somebody did go for help, and the woman causing a disturbance was removed. My friend mentioned it to the staff later and received a free pass to another movie. But this was a big chain; I wouldn’t want to make too much of a fuss at my favorite cinema, which is a locally-owned independent.
I guess I could just say that I got a story out of the experience.
It also prompted me to reflect on the difficulties of maneuvering public spaces nowadays. It’s no secret that civility has been on the decline in recent years. I don’t just mean people being rude to one another. Civility includes observing social norms that make life easier and more pleasant for others.
I wrote a column once about a man who was eating chicken salad out of a deli container in front of me in a grocery line. Many readers shared my feeling that this was upsetting. But a few people thought I was being judgmental. Maybe the guy was hungry.
My point, though, was that I felt the situation was unhygienic. He was eating as he inserted his card into the reader. He was waving a fork around, a fork that had been in his mouth. It is also impolite to eat while completing a transaction. I can’t imagine this person was so hungry he couldn’t wait a few minutes to go out into the lobby of the store, where he could have sat down and enjoyed his treat.
Either grocery stores are hotbeds of incivility or I am just spending too much time in them. I seem to see people acting out there on a regular basis. But our roads and parking lots are even worse.
My latest pet peeve is people pulling out of their spaces even as I am driving toward them, looking for a space of my own. I think I have the right of way; I am the person in the thoroughfare. If the other drivers are about three-quarters of the way out of their parking spaces, I would, of course, stop and let them continue. But I have seen people back straight out right in front of me, forcing me to grind to a halt.
Personally, I would be afraid to back out that quickly and without, apparently, looking around. There are usually people walking everywhere in a parking lot, not just on the sidewalks.
Despite my high standards for public behavior, I’m not all gloom and doom. I’m a school librarian and so spend some of my work time with teenagers. I don’t expect them to behave like adults; I know if I go out into the food court at lunch time, I had better keep my wits about me. Once, a student would have walked right into me if I hadn’t dodged aside at the last minute. If those heavy backpacks swing the wrong way, they could topple me. A running middle schooler is a dangerous thing.
This is the way it is. But I am touched, on a metaphorical level, by how many young people are careful to hold open a door for me. It’s a little thing, but it bodes well for the future—one in which people are kinder, gentler and nicer to one another.
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