Today, evidently, was Old People Day at the local theater. At the 1:10 p.m. showing of The Aviator the Spouse Thingy and I were (by far) the youngest in attendance. We had the fewest wrinkles and the least amount of gray hair, though one old fart managed to make me feel bad when he pretty much hurdled over the first row of seats to get to the second row, where his wife (or better half or sister…who knows) was sitting.
And you know what?
Certain old people need to be taken out to the lobby and have some manners spanked into them. We suffered entire groups of them, huddled close, talking through the entire three hours. Not just whispers—they were talking. Clearly. Loudly. And I wanted to get up and slap them all silly.
Or at the very least stand up and scream “Shut up! Shut the fuck up! I paid good money to see this movie, not listen to you narrate!”
Ok, that’s a little strong.
I didn’t necessarily want to scream expletives at anyone.
But if I’d had popcorn, I might have started throwing it at them.
It’s a little odd, the times when I’ve been the most ticked off by talkers in the theater it hasn’t been because of kids. It’s always been because of older people who should know better. People who would probably otherwise be moaning about “those damn kids, they have no manners these days.” I very rarely hear kids talking in the theater, and if I do, it’s very young children who are just whispering a little too loud for the circumstances—they’re just not old enough to know better. Once you’ve hit your 80’s, you should know better. And you should care.
But thank God none of them squealed with delight when DeCaprio had his shirt off.
That would have been disturbing.
And wrong…so very, very…wrong.