Lost Journal

Humor Column
by Tim Mollen
August 4, 2005

The Rise of the Movie Vigilante

Journal Entry:  May 28, 2005 (age 36)

Some people are born with a calling.  They may feel drawn toward sports, the arts or medicine.  Others may hear a voice coming from deep within, beckoning them into a life of serving the poor or the sick.

I was born to tell people in movie theaters to shut up.

Today, my wife, Amanda, and I went to see Star Wars:  Revenge of the Sith.  It’s the type of movie you need to see on the big screen in order to fully appreciate the special effects, the surround sound, and the communal thrill of a shared spectacle.  But that spectacle is supposed to occur on the screen, not in the seats in front of you.  At today’s screening, we were entertained by a wide assortment of specialized personnel:

• A cell phone owner who informed all of us, through her specialized ring, that she is A Hollaback Girl.  Good to know, because she was about to get holla’ed at.
  

• A couple that had brought their own gigantic bags of Doritos, which they proceeded to enjoy with the audible gusto of two starved pigs in a pile of slop.  “Mmmpphhh…corn goodness!”
  

• A man who was attempting to channel the spirit world by tapping his foot against the back of the seat in front of him.
  

• A confused woman who periodically inquired, of no one in particular, “Where are the Ewoks?”
  

• An usher who believes his only task is to walk through the theater once a show, lazily waving a flashlight back and forth.  “Nope – no knife fights…”

As each of these characters presented themselves, my wife’s cautionary grip on my arm got tighter, as my grip on reality became more tenuous.  The Dark Side of the Force was calling me.  I was being beckoned to grasp my true destiny.  After several tormented minutes, I gave in to the fierce maelstrom within me, unleashing the full fury of my anger on the assembled legion of poor-mannered filmgoers.

“Will you PLEASE shut up?! You’re not in your living room watching Judge Judy!”

Unfortunately, my voice did not have the gravity or power of James Earl Jones.  I sounded more like a frazzled schoolmarm in a Little Rascals movie.  Within moments, the ringing, chewing, tapping, and querying about Ewoks resumed.  Vanquished, I sank further into my seat and counted to 29,000.

On the way to our car, I apologized to Amanda for having crashed my social operating system.  With the infinite patience of a Jedi Master, she simply grasped my hand and smiled.  She waited until later to remind me of the news article my brother Jerry had sent to me, describing the violent parking lot attack on a movie “shusher” by a much larger “shushee.”

But my valiant battle shall continue.  I shall go on fighting…well, everyone who goes to the movies.  Or maybe I’ll just stay at home and yell at Judge Judy.

© 2005 Tim Mollen

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