Ok, on to the shirtless wonders.
After work on Wednesday, Holger and I jumped into his vintage VW Westfalia camper van (complete with fridge and fold-out couch) and drove, ‘My Fair Lady’ blasting out of the stereo, to meet Marg, our neighbors, and some gaming pals at the cinema. We went to TTT with a group of nine, and it became apparent as we walked in that we wouldn’t be sitting together. Every showing for the evening was sold out by mid-afternoon, and while we had tickets in advance we had the poor grace to only arrive half an hour early. What gall we had, haha!
So, Marg and I ended up in the middle of the back row, next to a crop of what at first we thought were Young Men but soon revealed themselves (literally) to be Adolescent Boys. It was clear from the beginning of the previews that there was something wrong with these dudes. They were talking amongst themselves in normal (i.e., not quiet) conversational tones, giggling at inappropriate moments, and in general being distracting. It was all I could do to not accidentally spill my drink laterally across the whole row.
Midway through the film, not so much because I had to go but because I needed a break from them, I went out to the lobby for a minute. When I returned, Marg had swapped seats with me. This was a wise and kind move on her part, as she is not as easily distracted by bozos talking in the theater as I am. This helped the situation at first, and with ordinary bozos would have saved Marg from having to listen to me bitch about these morons nonstop for hours after the film. These, however, were no ordinary bozos. These were ‘Need-that-boot-to-the-head-stat’ first-rate weenies. Finally, the boys were too obnoxious even for my cheerful bride. She turned to glare at them ominously, then resumed watching the film.
Now we must switch to MID (Marg Internal Dialogue) mode, as what we have next is secondhand as it was related to me by her:
There I was, watching the movie. The little twits next to me were quiet for a few minutes, but of course they started up again. Dorks. As I got more and more annoyed, I thought to myself “geez, I wish those losers would cut it out. And why the hell aren’t they wearing any shirts?”
That’s the point at which my brain realized what my eyes had seen twenty minutes ago: these jerks, who were no doubt high or drunk or had been dropped on their heads or something, apparently decided it would be fun to go to a crowded movie and watch it with their shirts off. Huh? Maybe they thought they were orcs.