I Hate Everyone Who Goes To The Cinema
I recently acquired a magical card which allows me to visit a certain cinema chain as much as I want - for free.
Never one to shy away from getting my money's worth (even if it is technically free to me) I now frequent the cinema almost as much as my university classes.
Actually, that's a huge lie. I go to the cinema way more than I do lectures. As such I now consider myself somewhat a cinematic connoisseur and have slipped very easily into a pattern of idiosyncrasies.
Being socially awkward as I am, I get rather annoyed if my pattern is broken by... Other People *shudder*. Sure, I don't mind the usual suspects I force to go the cinema with me, they've always been there. They're part of my pattern. But these Others I speak of are more often than not people I've never seen before in my life: Cardiff is a big city y'know? They destroy my pattern. Every. Single. Time. They make me feel like there is absolutely zero point in having a pattern. Is it even a pattern if it's broken every single time? I've broken down these Others into easy to spot categories. Next time you're at the cinema perhaps you could take a checklist and see how many you can tick off.
Yes, children. I don't care what you think of me. Children annoy me to no end at the cinema. If you're a parent, let me seriously ask you this (and I wish to receive a proper, justified answer). What part of you thought it would be a good idea to give your children armfuls of sugary treats, plonk them down in a giant seat in the dark and expect them to sit there in silence and behave for two hours? Honestly. Answer me!
It will never happen. I always try to get to the cinema early, and if it's a children's film inevitably a mother laden with other people's children for the day will rush in halfway through a decent trailer and usher her unruly brood and all their bloody sweets into the row in front of me. The brood will then proceed to chatter until heavily shushed during the opening credits of the film. They will be quiet for an hour at absolute most, if you can count rustling sweets for fifty nine minutes as quiet. They will probably have to be taken to the toilet at least one time each and for the last hour of the film will wriggle about in their seats, perhaps kneel and turn around and stare at me for a bit. They'll offer me a sweet if I'm lucky.
Variation: If it's a 3D film they will gasp and reach out every time there is a 3D effect. Count on it.
I recently went to see RED. It's a film about 'Retired: Extremely Dangerous' CIA agents, starring old people like John Malkovich, Morgan Freeman and Helen Mirren. I went to see this twice with various usual suspects and both times saw quite a few old people there. Perhaps they thought they could relate because the people in the film are also old. That's the only thing they'll have had in common.
You would never see Bruce Willis rocking up to the cinema to watch a film and get there late because it's so hard to find disabled parking spots near where you want to be these days... Bruce Willis would not then find the most populated row and stare at them until they all stood up to squeeze past, smelling like cats, to the spot furthest away from the noise and bright light of the screen. Bruce Willis would not then spend at least ten minutes rustling about in the plastic Sainsbury's bag full of treats he brought with him because his pension can't stretch to the extortionate cinema food prices (and we all know that old people can't go two hours without having a snack).
Once they've had a good time rooting about in the bag, even though there's only two things in there, they'll pull out a giant packet of sweets, all of which will be individually wrapped. Like the children, old people can't deploy the contents of their bladders before the film, so will have to go halfway through, making everyone stand up a further two times. And... just, the sweet wrapper noise. Oh God the sweet wrapper noise.
Variation: The Old Biddy Brigade. Large groups of old ladies who fancy the cinema because they read in a women's magazine that a film is a bit like Calendar Girls. They will tut a lot and go 'ooohhh my!' at every swear word and reference to sex.
I realise that I technically fit into this category, but these Others are different. They travel in herds. Large herds. I've recently encountered two different kinds of youths at the cinema and I'm about to be specific, so watch out.
The first kind of youth is at least eighteen-years-old. They are most likely not in further education, on a vocational course or in employment. Just a guess. They travel in herds of between four and twelve hundred members. They are all clones of one another with a standard uniform of white trainers, tracksuit bottoms with two stripes up the side of the leg, a puffer or tracksuit jacket, baseball cap, chain necklace and one diamante earring. It doesn't matter whether they are male or female, I often cannot tell the difference. I actually have two specific examples for these youths.
On the Wednesday that The Social Network was previewed, myself and two of the usual suspects went to the cinema donned with an Orange Wednesday code and my magical card. We often go to see Wednesday previews of anticipated films so this was no different. What we did not expect to see was a queue out of the door and what can only be described as a bouncer going along the line proudly announcing that The Social Network was sold out. I was livid, and we had to watch something else. While I was in another queue for my obligatory mixed slushie I saw the waiting area for the film. About one hundred youths.
So we went to see The Social Network the following Tuesday, and although we were able to get tickets this time, the cinema was still packed with these youths. It was as if someone had taken a photograph of a seat in the cinema and generated a hologram in every other seat of the same figure in various colours of tracksuit (apart from the seats me and the usual suspects were sat in, of course). Half an hour into the film, they all whipped out their phones and furiously began texting. I happened to lean forward at one point and catch a bbm of a particular male youth in front of me. His co-youth had bmm'd him "Ano its sh*t init", to which cinema youth had replied "yer lol fort was gna b bot fb lol". I wanted to shoot myself in the head, but not as much as I wanted to shoot him.
The second kind of youth I hate is most definitely under eighteen. Sometimes they look under fifteen, but will triumphantly whip out passports as smug ID when asked. My example for why these youths annoy me is when I went to see Paranormal Activity 2. In the queue to get my tickets they were in front of me. The luminous colours they were all wearing to be fashionable and alternative was an assault on my eyes, and I love bright colours. It took them about ten minutes to buy their tickets as there was about twenty of them, and at least fifteen of them looked pre-pubescent.
Nevertheless, the poor ticket seller eventually gave up arguing with the boy who was chosen as the ring-leader, brandishing his passport and swallowing nervously as his newly pronounced Adam's apple played tricks on his voice. These youths continued to plague me with another argument with the ticket-ripper on the box because he rightly didn't believe they were all at least fifteen either. This poor sod also gave up and shot me a withered look as I sympathetically gave him my ticket.
Basically, once they were in the screen, they would not shut the hell up. There is only one good outcome from having a large group of these younger youths in your film: you find yourself brought closer to every other person in the screen who has become just as pee'd off as you. It is impossible to concentrate on the film when behind you (they always sit at the back, it's superawesomecool) all you can hear is chatting, giggling, fake shushing and every so often the confident, daringly loud shout. The first one will usually be when the piracy notice is shown. One cocky little beggar will squeak "Oi, Darren, better put that camera away." My heart sinks as they erupt into guffaws and shushes and, although I'm not looking, probably high-fives. The only time these youths were quiet was during the first 'tense' bit. After something had happened - the girls had screamed, the boys had screamed and hurriedly laughed it off - they cared not for the film, only for chatting.
One of my fellow pee'd off comrades plucked up the courage to tell them to shut up during an opportunely silent part of the film. We all knew it was futile. Another cocky boy gave a half-witted retort and they only giggled further. I am honestly shocked at my anger-management skills that I've never punched anyone on the way out of a film.
Variation: the behaviour of the two age-groups of youths is entirely interchangeable. Yet still just as f*cking annoying.