I've gotta be somewhere...

HOWARD: I've gotta be somewhere.

PUBLICIST: You already are somewhere.

HOWARD: I gotta be somewhere else.

Went to see The Aviator tonight, starring about a million big-name actors, primarily Leo DiCaprio, but also the wonderful character actor John C. Reilly, and a great performance by Cate Blanchett as Katherine Hepburn (who seems like she was an absolutely fascinating lady.) However our movie-going adventure almost became a "boxing day" in the literal sense of the word!

FADE IN

The scene opens in a movie theatre about a third full. There is stadium eating, so the view of the movie is onobstructed. A biography of movie and aviation mogul Howard Hughes plays in the foreground, approximately two-thirds full.

BOORISH MOVIE PATRON (in a loud, obnoxious voice): WELL YOU GO AHEAD TO THE BATHROOM DEAR AND I'LL JUST WAIT HERE FER YA.

The camera pans from behind to the see the hero's view of the man and his daughter. The man is fuzzy, unshaven, and dark. The little girl's head is barely visible, obscured by the large seat she is in.

INTERIOR MONOLOGUE OF OUR HERO: Quiet down buddy! Is the big oaf not capable of speaking to his daughter in a voice any quieter than a roar? Jeez! This is the third time his daughter has had to get up during the movie and each time he practically yells at her. The little girl is far too young to be at a movie with sex and violence and historical and cultural subject matter too advanced for a child.

Camera pans to a close-up of the little girl (still from behind).

MONOLOGUE CONTINUES: She's what, seven or so? Much too young to go to the washroom in a public place unaccompanied. Doesn't he know what kind of creepy people lurk about waiting for this kind of lax parenting? Jerk. Why does he have to speak to her so loudly? Is he deaf or something?

I see Amy lean forward as if to say something and I almost ask her not to, but then she seems to think better of it. I'm wrong.

AMY (leaning over): Could you please stop talking?

The boor turns around, his dark eyes glistening and his posture indignant:

WHO DE FUCK DO YE THINK YOU ARE TA TELL ME TA SHUT UP?

My first reaction, shock, my second, abort conflict, abort conflict! I leaned in, palms up in a gesture of passivity, trying my best to smooth things over.
ME: It's okay, no one told anyone to shut up. Calm down, just calm down.

BOOR (continuing): I'M JUST TALKIN' TO MY DAUGHTER, TAKIN' CARE OF'HER....ROAR ROAR ROAR....

ME: It's okay, just calm down.

He finally simmers down and we all turn back to the movie. I was sure the entire theatre witnessed this exchange and could now hear my heart pounding wildly, as though it were ready to jump out of my chest and hide under my chair. I wish I could hide under my chair. WTF just happened?

Fast forward the action. Someone must have told an usher because he comes in, speaks to the people at the end of our row, and comes over to talk to Mr. Scary Movie Guy. He gets up, has words with the usher, then sits back down. The usher leaves, shaking his head. A few minutes later two managers come in, one sentinel at the door, another one marching authoritatively toward Mr. Scary Movie Guy.

MOVIE PATRON NEAR FRONT (in annoyed voice): Not now. Not now!

The manager approaches Scary Movie Guy who stands up an gestures toward the manager.

Interior Monologue: Is he going to hit him? Ohmygod!

But no, there are words exchanged, bits and pieces of their conversation float toward us and then they leave the theater, leaving the little girl by herself. Mr. Scary Movie Guy returns shortly, and finishes watching the movie, noticably quieter.

The movie ends uneventfully, our concentration interrupted, my heart still pounding.

FADE OUT

At the end of the movie, the three of us fumbled with our purses and coats, not wanting to race out of the movie theatre, but also praying that the scary guy wasn't going to say anything more to us. Luckily for us, he didn't.

Amy spoke to the manager and apologized that the usher had to take the man's crap because she asked him to be quiet. The management told us not worry, that we had done a good job by speaking up when others hadn't, etc. We left feeling pretty shaken.

Lana and I went out for coffee just to complain about the Scary Movie Guy, which went on to become a rant about the trouble with finding a job in Ottawa, and how biased the system is against non-francophones. But that's another rant for another time.