I need a second opinion. Or as many as I can get. In fact, let’s make a vote. I’ll tell you a story, and you can let me know what you think.
I went to the movie theater today. I thought it was a good time to watch the movie X-men Origins: Wolverine. As I arrived to the movie hall, I realized the mistake I made. Wrong timing. I’d forgotten how much I despise going to the theater at a particular time where every seat is dominated by a vicious spectator determined to guard every precious piece of his chair – as if they could take the damn seat home with them at the end of the movie. Needless to say, it was crowded. And nobody wanted to give up the empty seat next to them. Until eventually, I had to divide myself from my party so we could actually be seated through the forsaken movie. I was a row behind my group. Alone. Lost in a sea of strangers hungry for entertainment. I held my own though – I even managed to look dignified, sitting with a party of one. The previews for new movies began. I really like those. I hate food commercials (especially Burger King’s). I keep reminding myself it’s not nice to wish for the annoying people smiling and waving a whopper on the screen to choke, simply because it could briefly amuse me. I tell myself this repeatedly. It wasn’t until the movie was about to begin that the creepy moment struck unsuspectingly. The man seated next to me - as in, the chair right next to my own (please keep in mind, these seats are not that wide, unfortunately) makes a comment about the recent preview on the screen. I mumble something unimportant. In return, he asks me for my name. I think to myself (since I consider myself a nice person, usually) he’s just being friendly. So I provide my name. He states his own and offers me a handshake. Ookaaayy. Nothing to worry about yet, right? Then he asks where do I live? Huh? I say I’m from that same town. He asks from where exactly? And I think: are these not similar questions to what a psycho killer might ask? I answer that I live close by – trying to be vague and uninformative, while appearing completely distracted and uninterested in socializing further with him. Then, he inquires if I came to the movie alone? Once again, I think to say: why do you ask, creep? So you can stab me as soon as I exit this movie theater!? I do not say this however. But I do manage to slide my butt as far away from that guy as possible, nearly onto the other gentleman’s lap seated on my other side. I reply to his ‘are you alone’ question with a: of course I’m not alone! Yet I made no further clarification on my lonesome situation or how many people would come to my aid in a heartbeat - hoping he would think that every single annoying spectator in that cinema was my friend. And then, finally the movie began, at which point I was practically sitting on the edge of my chair. If I succeeded in looking any more enthralled by the screen, I would have been climbing it with my bare hands in my hurry to get away from Mr. Creeper. My eyes never left the movie, but my hands were ready to strike in my defense. I had already improvised a plan of attack. If this weirdo so much as sneezed, I’d pluck his eyes out. Just like Uma Thurman did in the film Kill Bill Vol. 2. And at the end, once the movie finished, I knew Mr. Creepy was going to try and address me again. I jumped the gun… No, I didn’t pluck out his eye balls. I just managed to escape and reunite with my group safe and sound. Although I stayed sharp as I made my way toward the exit and through the parking lot.
So… what do you think? Is it me, or is this experience just plain creepy?