Sir, Please Step Out of the Theater


So on Independence Day night, my wife and I had a movie date.  Before the fire works of course.  We don’t get out much, a fact glaringly apparent to both ourselves and the unfortunate souls around us in the ensuing hours.

To set the scene, the theater was packed with humans and the dense smell of fresh popcorn and chemicalized butter. The movie was entertaining, featuring beautifully unrealistic actors and actresses at every turn, plenty of humor, some suspense, and it moved along at a good clip.

1/2 way through the movie, the lead actor puts a flash drive into his computer, opens an encrypted file, and this glowing red diagram of a rocket appears on the screen.  I turn to my wife and utter, “that thing is weaponized.”

What my slow-on-the-uptake brain didn’t immediately process was the fact that rather than solely sharing my mastery of the obvious with my wife, I had said it loud enough for everyone within 12 rows of me to hear. It was pretty much a blurt.  A six year old in kindergarten kind of blurt. A tourette’s kind of blurt.

My immediate reaction to my own voice, seemingly exercised from dark place within me was probably similar to that of those around me.  This quickly gave way to giggling, which got my wife to giggling, which got me to a full on belly laugh, which got her to snickering, which almost immediately got me to being tapped on the shoulder by a young man with a very uncomfortable look on his face and the word “Roy” on his name tag, asking me to please step out of the theater.  Tears of laughter, pure joy and mild embarrassment began streaming down my face.  I somehow managed to roll out of my seat, hobble out of the theater, and get a re-fill on popcorn and a hold of my funny bone.

I had just pulled an 80 year old man move, and I am nowhere close to 80 years old.  The whole thing was a classic fart in church moment.  Clearly, I’ve been watching too many movies from the comfort of my couch, and as easy as carrying TP on the bottom of my shoe, I clearly have no problem carrying that couch comfort into the theater with me.  I am starting to laugh just rethinking the entire episode.  I’m contemplating a CT scan to make sure my brain isn’t prematurely shrinking to the size of a shelled pecan, plus a muzzle for future date nights.

Once my wife and I collected ourselves, and our fresh popcorn, we made our way back into the theater.  Unfortunately our seats had been taken and we were forced to move to the first row.  Oh well. That enabled us to really kick up our heels and cut some big ones.


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