(My younger sister and I go to the theater. Said theater serves beer, and I order one for the novelty of the experience. I have just gathered up my soda, beer, and popcorn, and realize that I can’t remember where we are supposed to sit. Having just gotten everything situated in my hands so I don’t drop it, I don’t want to set it down to check my ticket.)

Me: “Hey, pull out your ticket and see what seat you have.”

Sister: “G4.”

Me: “That means I’m in G3.”

Sister: “All right! Let’s go find that G-spot!”

(I ended up having to set all my stuff down, anyway, because I was laughing so hard.)

Over the winter break I went to see the new Star Wars movie with my brother and his fiancée. I was staying with our parents for the break, and my brother and his fiancée live thirty minutes from there so we decided to meet at a theater halfway between those locations. Neither of us had been to it before.

Ten minutes before the movie was to end, three people walked in and sat in a row in front of us. They all took out their cell phones and started checking texts and Facebook, and chatting with each other. It was incredibly distracting. I finally decided to stand up and get a manager to deal with them. On my way back into the theater I leaned over their seats and told them a manager was on the way. They all leapt up like they were on fire. When they turned to face me, I realized they were all in their late teens or early twenties and were wearing uniforms. They worked for the theater.

It turns out they were the cleaning crew. When we exited the theater, they were all standing by the door, looking down at their feet.

(After the release of a certain explicit movie based on a book, my cinema chain has cracked down on checking IDs to make sure we don’t receive fines for underage viewers. A group of teenage girls, who are clearly between 16 and 18, approach the counter. I know I have to ask them for ID, but because they are so excited and I need to get through a busy queue quickly, I internally decide that if just one of them can show me they’re over the age, then I will let the others slide.)

Me: “I’m going to need to see some ID before I can sell the tickets to you.”

Girl #1: *smug* “Well, I’ll show you mine, since I’m buying them.”

Me: “Sure, whatever.” *takes offered driving license*

Girl #1: “So, how much?”

Me: “Uh, this says you’re seventeen. I can’t let you in. Sorry.”

Girl #1: “What? Let me see that!”

(She snatches back her license and studies it. I watch as her eyes widen in understanding.)

Girl #2: “[Girl #1], what’s the problem? You said you’d make sure that we could get in.”

Girl #1: *in undertone* “S***, I gave the real one.” *to me in normal voice* “Hey, can I give you my other ID?”

Me: “You’re asking if you can give me your other ID that has a different age on it?”

Girl #1: “Yes!”

Me: “No. See you later.”

(Nice try!)

(I am a customer overhearing this exchange. The time is 6:45, and the movie starts at 7:00. It’s the opening weekend of a huge blockbuster, so we’re all waiting in line.)

Lady: “They say there’s a 15-minute wait! They’re going to make us stand around for fifteen minutes!”

(No one says anything.)

Lady: *louder, to the crowd* “THEY’RE GOING TO MAKE US WAIT ANOTHER FIFTEEN MINUTES! ARE WE GOING TO STAND FOR THIS, EVERYONE?!”

(No one responds. She does this four or five more times.)

Me: “IF YOU DIDN’T WANT TO WAIT FIFTEEN MINUTES, DON’T SHOW UP FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLY!”

(The lady slinked off back to her place in line, while everyone else laughed.)

(It’s the 30th anniversary of one of my favorite movies. My husband, a movie buff himself, gets us tickets, but our sitter cancels at the last minute. Without another alternative, we decide to risk it and bring our three-year-old son along. We’re able to get a ticket for the seat right next to those we already bought, and plan to take turns taking him out if he interferes with anyone else’s enjoyment of the movie. To our delight, he’s very well-behaved and only needs to go out once, to use the restroom. The movie is nearly over, and we’re watching the climactic sword fight between two brilliant swordsman.)

Inigo: *on screen* “I want my father back, you son of a b****.” *stabs his opponent*

(There’s a moment of silence where the impact of this hits the audience, which is exactly when my son gasps.)

Son: “OH, NO!”

(The whole theater cracks up laughing, and it just ruins the dramatic tension built up over the previous 90 minutes. I am horribly embarrassed, and quickly vow never to bring him to the theater again. We start to head out once the show is over.)

Patron: *spots my son* “Hey, is that the kid who…?”

Me: “Yes. I’m so sorry!”

Patron: “Naw, it was hilarious!” *crouches down to the kid’s level* “Give me five, little buddy! That was awesome!”

(Several others overheard, and also hastened to reassure us that they found it humorous. In fact, we didn’t receive a single negative reaction. Not even so much as a glare. Still, not planning to bring the kid to the theater again any time soon. But thank you, theater patrons, for having a heart!)

This story is included in our Princess Bride roundup!

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