I'm a frequent movie-goer, and as such I have sat with nearly every type of audience there is. I've come to accept that people are inconsiderate dimwits who bring their children, crunchy candy, social lives, and bladder problems with them to the theater.
Utah is plagued with bad theater-goers, in particular, their offspring.
Today I had the opportunity to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, and lost count the number of times I was drawn from the film by the constant whispering in the row behind me. Right off the bat the little jerk was prattling, "Are those dementors?... Daddy?... Daddy?... Dad?... Dad, are those dementors?"
I have no problem with shushing people in a movie theater. I've done it many times. But something about this little girl's timing would bring me right up to the edge then she would shut up before I could snap. Damn her.
I nearly snapped when she ruined a scene I had been looking forward to, Snape's death. (Not that I was looking forward to Snape dying, just the scene itself, you see.) Anyway, as soon as Nagini started ramming into Snape's artery the little crap starts up her commentary, "You can see the blood! Snape's dying, mom! The snake's killing Snape! Look it! Skittles?"
I was ready to whip around and roar, "SHUT UP!" when Alan Rickman made me burst into tears instead.
Afterward, I seethed to Whitnee.
"I just wanted to throttle her! Or her parents, either one!"
"Oh Kimberly. What am I going to do with you?"
"Don't let me procreate. Ever."
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