The story of when I almost got in a fight at the movie theater
This blog is long, but it’s WORTH IT. Seriously. It’s worth it. Read it.
Once upon a time (one hour ago, in fact) I went to see a pre-screening of Super 8 with my dad. 7:30 PM showtime. The movie was great (GO SEE IT!). It was about a bunch of kids using a Super 8 camera to film a zombie movie for a film festival. They accidentally catch footage of this train accident…. you know the rest.
Because it was a pre-screening, it was literally PACKED. Every seat filled. A group of…. larger…. ladies…. were sitting to my dad’s right. I don’t know if you are aware of this, but Lennox Theater allows you to bring in food. They don’t advertise it, but frequent movie-goers like myself are aware of it. They must’ve been too, because they brought in a Wendy’s combo meal. Keep this in mind for later, please.
My dad had to leave at 9:30 on the dot to pick someone up, so he got up and left and stood right by the entrance until, literally, the last second of the film, and left before the credits start rolling. I stayed to watch the credits because I hate that after-movie-chaos where everyone is trying to make it out like there’s a fire.
About thirty seconds into the credits, while a lot of people were making their way towards the exit rows, they start playing footage during the credits. It was the footage all the little kids in the movie filmed with their camera. Not the monster footage, but the footage for a film festival…. anyway… the point is IT WAS CUTE. So everyone stopped exiting their rows, and stood there to watch the credits.
While the entire theater is standing there enjoying the footage playing during the credits, I hear the woman that was sitting next to my dad start loudly complaining that people weren’t leaving the theater. “MOVE! I don’t want to watch this sh*t!” This struck me as strange because the short film was really cute, so I figured she must be in a hurry to leave. Keep in mind it’s still dark at this point.
The footage was 2-5 minutes long, so while it was playing the lights finally turned on in the theater. Then I hear someone say, “Oh my GOD…. what is that?“ in this dramatic voice. I look over and there is puke ALL OVER THE FLOOR in front of the loud complaining girl who was sitting next to my dad. The puke is directly in between Pukey’s (that’s what I’m calling her) feet and on the seat in front of her. None of it was disturbed. Pukey goes, “is that puke?” and I think to myself, while trying not to gag, “OBVIOUSLY IT IS PUKE.” Again, this is striking me as odd because CLEARLY IT WAS PUKEY’S PUKE. But she was trying to act like she’d never seen it before.
The girl in front of Pukey turns around and yells, “I thought someone had spilled their pop on me during the credits, but you PUKED ON ME!” (I don’t know how it can take you a minute plus to realize you got puked on, but stranger things have happened.)
At this point all these people who were previously looking at the screen are now looking at Pukey and her victim, therefore looking at me because I’m standing right next to them, half enjoying the show, half covering my face because the puke is starting to smell. All of the sudden I hear Pukey say:
“IT WAS THAT OLD MAN!”
I think to myself………….. “What old man?” and then I realized…. THAT B-WORD IS TALKING ABOUT MY DAD!!!!! I quickly informed Pukey that my dad was gone during the credits so he couldn’t have puked. She said, “He puked and left!” and I said, “no, YOU puked! How could he puke in between your feet without you knowing it until now?” The victim (AKA the girl who got puked on) was backing me up, calling Pukey a liar. “You were eating a combo meal!!! You are the one that puked. How can you blame that nice old man?” Pukey doesn’t really respond to anything we’re saying, she just keeps yelling at me “IT WAS THAT OLD MAN! He puked and left,” while slowly making her way out of the theater.
I’m not a confrontational person. My family jokes if I order steak and they serve me chicken instead, if the waiter asked how the meal was I’d say, “GREAT!” It’s pathetic but it’s true. I’m not assertive. But I am a major Daddy’s girl and have a tendency to stick up for him. So I got soooooo mad at Pukey. I mean, A) she called my dad an “old man” and he is totally not an old man yet! And more importantly, B) he wasn’t there to defend himself and all those people in the theater would think he did it unless I stood up for him. So while she kept responding, “It was that old man!” the victim and I took up arms and fought for justice, and loudly asserted that her eating cake likely had more to do with it than my innocent dad, who just wanted to enjoy the movie.
Luckily we managed to avoid a physical confrontation, because that woman could’ve sat on me and killed me. When I was making my way out of the theater I told one of the employees that there was puke in the theater. The victim was walking out while I said this, and came up to say her peace. “It was those fat asses! If you find those fat bi*ches make them clean it up!” and “They were eating CAKE in the movie. Who eats cake in a movie!” and “They were eating the whole time, those fat b*tches! No wonder she puked!” and “She tried to blame it on her dad! WHO DOES THAT!”
And Pukey’s victim has a point, right? WHO DOES THAT.
I quickly made my way to Twitter to tell everyone about the ordeal, because obviously it was one of the most surreal things to ever happen to me, and one of the people I follow from Columbus responded and happened to be in the theater at the time. He said:
It hit the nail on the head. And to answer your question, YES, I am a crazy person magnet. I don’t know how these things happen to me, THEY JUST DO. And I share them with you. You’re welcome.
Also, I have a picture of the puke. I don’t know why I did it, or more importantly HOW. I was stuck in my chair because I couldn’t exit the row (people watching the footage), and had my face covered with my t-shirt to suppress my gag reflex. I didn’t know what to do with my hands so I took a photo of it. I AM GROSS, I KNOW. I’m not including it in here though, because that’s nasty.