Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Curse of the screaming infant
So I went with some friends to see Pirates of the Caribbean 2, tonight. The 9:50 show. We arrive, and the theatre parking lot is well-nigh deserted. (well-nigh being used, in this case, to say not really, like lying, only figurative). We take this as a good sign, as we'll have the theatre almost entirely to ourselves most likely.
Which does indeed turn out to be the case. We sit one row up from a young couple in their 20's, in front of whom is a small family, and there are maybe 18 other people scattered sparsely throughout the sea of theatre seats.
Well about halfway through the movie, the six-or-seven year old child in the small family in front of us decides that instead of watching a movie, what he [I]REALLY[/I] wanted to do tonight was have a contest with himself to see whether he could top his previous record for loudest screaming wail he'd achieved. And top it he did. For several minutes in a row, successively achieving new heights of screaming wail. I don't mean that annoying "pay attention to me" half-hearted screaming wail that some small children do for presents or candy or to get dad to put the bottle down for a minute and change their diaper; I mean the screaming wail wherein every sharp intake of breath cuts like a lash, and every outtake of ever-higher pitch, ever-louder volume, ever-more-intense desperation cries to the mothering instinct present in every mortal human "HELP ME! I'M IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE AND TOO YOUNG TO HELP MYSELF."
The Mother of said infant, also referred to henceforth as "the Bitch", "the Failure", and "Miss White Trash 2005", had read Parenting for Dummies, apparently. Right after the chapter about bringing your children to the Late show, she read the chapter wherein it instructs you on the proper manner of dealing with said screaming infant. The proper way of dealing is to, you guessed it, move several seats away from the child so he will not detract from your movie watching experience. Everyone in the theatre witnessed this move, and there were gasps. The gasps, I believe, were gasps borne of disbelief in how incredibly skillfully the mother had handled this child. The child, however, was not to be so easily deterred.
His response was, shameful creature that he was, to move closer to his mother in the hopes of receiving the attention he so sorely desired. The mother responded (again, straight out of Parenting for Dummies) by using the trademarked "Straight-Armed Shove" method of keeping muggers, defensive linemen, and apparently your squalling infants at bay.
The female half of the young couple in front of us, and placed directly behind said Unfolding Parenting Drama (and future Therapy Bills), had had enough by this point. She leaned forward, and said something in a quiet tone of voice (being apparently under the impression that a quiet tone is appropriate when people are attempting to engage in the practice of Movie Watching), which I did not hear, but I assume was along the lines of "Excuse me, madame, but it appears your child has broken the Guinness Book of World Records for highest volume and most excruciating pitch possible in the under-8 age category, perhaps you should leave the theatre and collect your prize money." The mother's response, naturally, was "The kid's the only goddamn reason I'm here, *********" (censored for the kiddies). The only reason she was there, at the late show, of a rather [I]dark[/I] movie.
This intrepid young female who so boldly took matters in her own hands and was equally boldly foiled by the sheer immovability of the Bitch, took things one step further, and stood up and marched to a distant back row, leaving her bewildered boyfriend to stare around in disbelief for a few minutes before following. Several more couples and families in the area also took flight to sunnier (and less screaming-child infested) shores, before the white trash mother of four decided enough was enough, she didn't want to see this goddamn movie anyways, Johnny Depp's a fag, that lady who told them off (she informed us loudly) is a bitch, and those grapes were decidedly sour anyways; barked marching orders at the children of hers who were in a mental state capable of receiving them to get up and get out, and grabbed the offending infant by the arm and marched out of the theatre quicker than you could say "I was just trying to watch a movie and you had to ruin it you bitch I was here for the damn kids anyway it was all for the kids..." etc. etc.
All in all, a delightful way to spend my Thursday evening. How was yours?
Which does indeed turn out to be the case. We sit one row up from a young couple in their 20's, in front of whom is a small family, and there are maybe 18 other people scattered sparsely throughout the sea of theatre seats.
Well about halfway through the movie, the six-or-seven year old child in the small family in front of us decides that instead of watching a movie, what he [I]REALLY[/I] wanted to do tonight was have a contest with himself to see whether he could top his previous record for loudest screaming wail he'd achieved. And top it he did. For several minutes in a row, successively achieving new heights of screaming wail. I don't mean that annoying "pay attention to me" half-hearted screaming wail that some small children do for presents or candy or to get dad to put the bottle down for a minute and change their diaper; I mean the screaming wail wherein every sharp intake of breath cuts like a lash, and every outtake of ever-higher pitch, ever-louder volume, ever-more-intense desperation cries to the mothering instinct present in every mortal human "HELP ME! I'M IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE AND TOO YOUNG TO HELP MYSELF."
The Mother of said infant, also referred to henceforth as "the Bitch", "the Failure", and "Miss White Trash 2005", had read Parenting for Dummies, apparently. Right after the chapter about bringing your children to the Late show, she read the chapter wherein it instructs you on the proper manner of dealing with said screaming infant. The proper way of dealing is to, you guessed it, move several seats away from the child so he will not detract from your movie watching experience. Everyone in the theatre witnessed this move, and there were gasps. The gasps, I believe, were gasps borne of disbelief in how incredibly skillfully the mother had handled this child. The child, however, was not to be so easily deterred.
His response was, shameful creature that he was, to move closer to his mother in the hopes of receiving the attention he so sorely desired. The mother responded (again, straight out of Parenting for Dummies) by using the trademarked "Straight-Armed Shove" method of keeping muggers, defensive linemen, and apparently your squalling infants at bay.
The female half of the young couple in front of us, and placed directly behind said Unfolding Parenting Drama (and future Therapy Bills), had had enough by this point. She leaned forward, and said something in a quiet tone of voice (being apparently under the impression that a quiet tone is appropriate when people are attempting to engage in the practice of Movie Watching), which I did not hear, but I assume was along the lines of "Excuse me, madame, but it appears your child has broken the Guinness Book of World Records for highest volume and most excruciating pitch possible in the under-8 age category, perhaps you should leave the theatre and collect your prize money." The mother's response, naturally, was "The kid's the only goddamn reason I'm here, *********" (censored for the kiddies). The only reason she was there, at the late show, of a rather [I]dark[/I] movie.
This intrepid young female who so boldly took matters in her own hands and was equally boldly foiled by the sheer immovability of the Bitch, took things one step further, and stood up and marched to a distant back row, leaving her bewildered boyfriend to stare around in disbelief for a few minutes before following. Several more couples and families in the area also took flight to sunnier (and less screaming-child infested) shores, before the white trash mother of four decided enough was enough, she didn't want to see this goddamn movie anyways, Johnny Depp's a fag, that lady who told them off (she informed us loudly) is a bitch, and those grapes were decidedly sour anyways; barked marching orders at the children of hers who were in a mental state capable of receiving them to get up and get out, and grabbed the offending infant by the arm and marched out of the theatre quicker than you could say "I was just trying to watch a movie and you had to ruin it you bitch I was here for the damn kids anyway it was all for the kids..." etc. etc.
All in all, a delightful way to spend my Thursday evening. How was yours?