Mother's Day at the Movies (Worst Idea Ever)

John proposed that we go see a movie this past weekend... his options= Iron Man 2 or something at the Dollar Theater (Tropicana Cinemas).  When I texted him back to see what was at the Dolla Dolla Bill Y'All Cinema he replied Shutter Island.  Blech.  I'll see it when it comes via Netflix, but my rationale is that is seems like it'll be way less costly than the admission for two to the dollar cinema (which is actually $1.50) plus the cost of two 20 oz. cokes and candy from the Terrible's gas station that is right next to the theaters.  (I would then sneak all the aforementioned in PS - that is "Pierce Senior"). 

A digression: All my purses are named "Pierce."  Like, Pierce Brosnan, but not after Pierce Brosnan, that would just be weird.  And yes, they are male.  My sister understands this perfectly, but to significant other, John, my purses should be female.  Pierce Senior is my huge Mamaw purse that can double as an extra carry-on piece of luggage.  (A sub-digression: Mamaw=grandmother.  It can also refer to something old-fashioned, like a type of purse or clothing, and has interchangeable good or bad connotations.)  PS goes with us to the movies because it can actually hold my regular sized purse inside along with the aforementioned 2 20 oz cokes and candy of our selection.  Regular sized purse has the moniker of PJ, or Pierce Junior.  


John and I have been excited about seeing Iron Man 2 ever since we heard that they were making it.  John suggested that we might want to go early in the day because it was opening weekend and Saturday is always packed because it's date night.  We were pretty pooped Saturday evening after the Parking Lot/Yard Sale, so we opted for Sunday.  Sunday also happened to be Mother's Day.  My idea, (which was proven horribly, disastrously wrong) was that most people would be spending time with their moms and not be going to see Iron Man 2.  We opted for the 5:30 because it was matinee prices and figured all the Mother's Day celebrators should be having dinner then.  Obviously, I didn't take into account a few factors: 

• The dads that would give mom some much needed rest and load the kids up to get them out of her hair.  (And go see Iron Man 2)
• The families that had moms that would enjoy going to see a movie together.  (That movie... Iron Man 2)
• The families with new mothers that had infants that would need to be toted along for the Mother's Day celebration.  (Which consisted of going to see Iron Man 2)

Needless to say, the theater was packed.  It was packed full of as many kids as if it had been a Disney movie.  I felt like I was at a day care.  John and I had screaming, crying infants in stereo.  It couldn't have been louder if they were miked and piped through the THX.  

We always try to arrive early to movies to scout out good seats.  We had made our preliminary selections and kept an eye on the rapidly filling theater for possible escape routes and secondary seating options should we feel the need to flee.  I felt pretty confident as we made it through the trailers and the opening credits started up.  Sure there were infants already antsy and whining, but none were right in our ears and none of the families directly surrounding us appeared to be talkers.  Then a dad with about 5 children under the age of 8 came noisily into the theater and despite all my telepathic efforts to disguise the empty seats directly behind us, he managed to spot them and direct (clearly, loudly, and very vocally) his brood in that direction.  Sure enough, John and I missed the dialogue that was happening during the opening credits.  The family had taken their seats but appeared to still have much to discuss.  

John and I had already identified the very front two rows as our only alternative for secondary seating.  We have sat and stewed in our own irritated juices through too many movies spent with loud or annoying theater mates.  So we devised a 3 strikes system.  If the annoyance continues after 3 infractions, we agree to soundlessly get up and move to our previously identified and acknowledged secondary seating selection. I don't think we even had to 3-count it for this family of chattertons.  We just fled.  

I used to see this as a sign of weakness.  I held my ground and dispensed dirty looks and "shush!" or "get off your phone" and proceeded to get madder and madder, all the while missing the movie and getting irritated at John for not doing anything.  (I have since learned that John's hearing not being that great means that usually what I hear and get pissed off at, he is blissfully unaware of.)  

We sat in the middle of the theater in the second row up front.  Nobody was in the front row (imagine that!) so we were able to put our feet up on the backs of the seat in front of us and recline as if we were waiting for a gynecological exam.   The speakers were loud enough up front that during the action parts of the movie, the baby noises faded into a dull roar, so it was just during quiet dialogue or suspenseful silences (you know, when you really want to concentrate on the movie?) that the crying took center stage.  Just to mix things up a bit, one child had apparently just learned to make a "Bah!" sound and thought it might be fun to chant it through the entire movie.  

John and I allowed that if we had brought the cats to the movie theater in celebration of my motherhood to them, that they would have been perfect angels and remained quietly seated through the film.