popcorn, coke and candy

A few weeks ago I decided to leave the house after being cooped up for several days. Time off of work and a cold that wouldn't go away really left me with very few reasons to leave the house. I had gone grocery shopping. And I have a cat to keep me company. But eventually it's the search for media that drives me from the confines of home. Netflix only goes so far.

I bundle up, don a hat, and wrap a scarf around my head. I'm completely disguised. I half expect to get nabbed by homeland security agents. I mean, why am I hiding my face? And what's in the jacket?

Well, after making a quick stop, it's a Jimmy John's sub. Homeland Security may not care so much about that, but I have to be covert if I want to get it into the theater.

I'm not the type to sneak much into the theaters. Maybe a bottle of water. That's about it. I'm not popping my own corn or anything. But when you stay inside for a week or so straight with a bad cold, a Jimmy John's sub and a movie start to sound really good. And if you can combine the two, then all the better.

I didn't count on the movie being so packed. After all, this was one of those movies that I felt like a late-comer to. It had been out for weeks, and I was looking forward to picking a prime spot in the back to chow down on my #12 Beach Club (on a sub, hold the mayo).

As the trailers rolled, I found myself in a bit of a predicament. How do I eat this sub without making tons of noise and looking like a giant slob? I hated the guys who did this sort of thing, and I didn't want to become one of them. Somewhere in the heap of clothing that I'd piled up in the empty seat next to me was the sub. I scanned it through the corner of my eye, looking for an opening. There had to be some way to get to the inside pocket without being too obvious about it.

I managed to open up my coat, but I still had a ways to go to actually get the sub out of the inside pocket. This would take some time. Finally just as Babel started to play I summoned up the courage to pull the sub out of my pocket. Success. Now all I had to do was unwrap it.

I did all of this hesitantly while trying to minimize noise. Upon unwrapping my sub, I folded the deli paper over. I never messed with the paper or crumpled it up when I was done. The only distraction to my fellow theater goers would be the image of me chowing on a gigantic sub instead of munching on a bucket of popcorn.

While the visual of eating a sub in a movie theater may be a little unusual, at least it's a relatively quiet thing to eat, and it doesn't emit an odor either. A friend of mine once said that she didn't like going to see movies in the theater because of the popcorn. She said it smelled like stale farts. I used to think she was crazy, but now it's all I think about when I hear someone chomping away. And they do chomp too. Never mind that they're two feet from you, if that. I sometimes wonder if it wouldn't be better if they just let one rip instead. It would be a concentrated blast, but at least it wouldn't last the duration of the movie like those popcorn buckets.

Last week I had another frustrating experience. Candy man sat behind me. He spent the duration of the movie unwrapping each individual piece of candy. He must have sneaked it in, because no theater in their right mind would ever sell candy that's individually wrapped. Not unless they want to start installing metal detectors at the door.

So soon this candy chomping, individually unwrapping guy decides to take it up a notch. He puts on his nylon jacket. And he moves around it in like he's watching Footloose instead of quirky little drama called Little Children. I shoot him sideways glances, but I'm a little nervous about doing a full-blown turnaround. There's no backing down once you go there. I found that out once when I had a chair kicker behind me who turned out to be my former boss. Whoops.

Things got surreal and comical when the guy crunched up a coke can and threw it on the floor. I looked at my friend for an exchange of a couple wtf's. But that's when I thought we might be dealing with mental illness. And as the credits began to roll, it was confirmed. Walking down a row of seats about five or so rows ahead of him, he looked completely lost as he gazed up at the screen. Then he'd walk back into the aisle, linger a moment, before turning around and doing it all over again. And yes, his nylon jacket was still making a lot of noise. But my image of him dancing was gone.