Tag Archives: Movies

Rude Sandwich



In the waning hours of the holiday season, we decided to squeeze in one last activity by heading out in the pouring rain for a matinee showing of The Accountant.  Perfect rainy day activity but ultimately a bit more interactive than I anticipated.

I drop my wife off in front so she could avoid the rain and get tickets. I then wade off to find a spot in the crowded parking lot to dock my vehicle.  50 yards from the theater, I wedge in between two other U-boats; but before I step into the monsoon I get a txt from my wife advising to skip the line and just find us a seat in the theater.  She notices there are no ticket takers, and with 5 minutes to the show if one of us doesn’t grab seats we may be watching the movie with our necks at a 90 degree angle to our bodies.

She’s not kidding.  The lobby is wall to wall-to-wall wet wool and bad breath.  I serpentine through the lobby masses and head for the entrance to our theater.

Somehow on my way in, I get sandwiched between three larger than life characters (husband/wife/child).  The woman in front of me is unaware I have slipped in front of her husband and is narrating her thoughts on seat selection at full volume.  Clearly thinking hubby is right on her heals and having selected her preferred row she barks, “How ’bout this one?”   At the same time she wheels around and finds herself face to face, with me.  Apparently she thinks I am a big white ghost because she lets out a, shriek, then immediately breaks into this humongous HAW HAW HAW when she realizes she has been blabbering absentmindedly to a total stranger.  She and I do this little dance in the aisle, and I step into the row immediately in front of her selected row.  BIG MISTAKE.

Anyway, the woman, her husband, young daughter (I’m guessing about aged 8 – in an R rated movie??), tub of popcorn, large drinks and assorted luggage sit behind me and continue their conversation through the previews.   I put my wet umbrella in the cup holder of the seat next to me and a minute later my wife lands.

A man and woman in front of me are also working through a large vat of popcorn but not 5 minutes into the previews, the man gets up and heads for the snack bar.  He returns as the opening scene appears on the screen and I miss the set up for the movie.  He then proceeds to sit (thankfully), pauses briefly before tearing into a grocery store size bag of something.

Could have been candy.  Could of been Calamari. But whatever it was, it was two hours of crinkly loud.  Like nails on a chalkboard, how someone could occupy themselves with a bag of such volume is unimaginable.

Now this is no spoiler, but The Accountant is about a high functioning man with Autism who is also a trained killer.  As you might surmise, the movie builds around the eccentricities of this unlikely combination of behaviors.   Pretty much every time the Accountant mumbles some inappropriate comment or puts a bullet in some nasty guy’s head, the trifecta behind me bursts forth with hearty HAW HAW HAWS,  MYUCK MYUCK, MYUCKS, and HONK HONK HONKS.  Even the eight year old.  Between the inappropriate comments, head bullets, and GUFFAWS there is the occasional “jump out of the closet/big white ghost” scene met withheld now familiar womanly shriek followed immediatley by a stereophonic MYUCK MYUCK, MYUCK, and HONK HONK HONK.  Oh, and of course there is the ringing cell phone during the final head/bullet scene.  She answers it of course.

Between the the incessant CRINKLE, CRINKLE, CRINKLE and HAW HAW HAW,  MYUCK MYUCK, MYUCK, HONK HONK HONK, I feel a bit like week-old turkey in a rude sandwich.   To say the rain must have driven all the rats out of the sewers would be a huge overstatement, but I have to chuckle at the world in which we live today.

A few additional thoughts:

  1.  The Accountant is worth seeing in the theater or in home.
  2. Next time I choose the long ticket line over seat selection.
  3. “All you had to do was pick a freaking decent seat and you picked the two between the Three Stooges and Willy f’ing Wonka.” (reprimand from my wife)
  4. When I get a little uptight.  I write.
  5. If I put the words, “Donald Trump” in my blog post will I get more views?

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.