Monday, June 16, 2003
Just got back from Birmingham this morning. I nearly became the first person to get in a fight at a G-rated movie. Not quite as exciting as a Little League hockey practice or baseball game, but pretty exciting nonetheless.
The Scene: Mopsy and I are sitting in the first row at "entrance level" to the stadium theatre; in front of us is a walkway and then stairs leading down to the seats where you need a Craftmatic adjustable bed to see the screen.
Preceding Action: At the movie's end, we remain seated to let people go by so we can watch the credits and possible out-takes. Well, we couldn't see because everyone was either standing in the way or walking in the way, so we make our move to go forward to the lower-level.
Rising Action: For those of you who don't know, I'm about 6'2" and Mopsy's about 5'3". So, I can stand in place and see the screen and not have so many problems. People don't do much to move me around. However, Mopsy gets cut off by a kid (9-year old who's a couple inches shorter than her) who brushes past her. Kind of irritating, but then the kid's dad cut in front of her with even less space bumped into her. So, Mops' goes, "Oh, Rude and Ruder." I only noticed after the exchange, seeing her giving him lip and then sitting down, and him giving lip back and coming toward her and hovering over her to threaten her. I'm guessing the guy is in the 5'9"-10" range and in his mid-40s. What's he gonna do, hit Mopsy? What a fucking tool?
Climax: So, from about 3 seats away and the row in front of him, I say in my "outdoor voice," in front of all the kids and their families, "Why don't you leave her the fuck alone?" and stepped in closer. I could see in my field of vision that people stopped shuffling out of the theatre. He came toward me, and we had us a stare down.
Falling Action: He flinched first, "I just lost my kid in the theatre and can't find him." I said, "Good. Why don't you go take care of that?" And he turned and left.
Denouement: We missed the credits that we wanted to see, but I got showered with praise and love for defending my sweetie.
Epilogue: It's weird though because while I'm proud for sticking up for her, I have a huge amount of guilt for doing it. What if that guy goes home and beats his kid because of me? Or, has this as one of those life moments that gnaws at him for the rest of his life, the time when he was threatened at a dumb kids movie that he probably didn't want to see in the first place? I could have been part of a pattern of bad experiences, nay, even the culmination of all his life's frustrations. And that's with not even a punch thrown. Even in victory, defeat seeps in.
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