Because I'm Equal Opportunity

Mr. Poppins is frequently indulgent of me, aware of my quirks and tolerant of my antics. Mr. Poppins is often amused by me, but seldom embarrassed. Because I know where the line is, people.

Except for this one time.

This one time, when I was pregnant with Secret Lulu. Hugely pregnant. Stick-a-harpoon-in-me-Captain-Ahab pregnant. Eclipsing-the-light-of-the-sun pregnant. You know, with the breasts the size of orbiting moons and the bladder the size of a peanut? 

Yeah, that.

So knowing that soon, very soon, movies and relaxing would be fuzzy memories, Mr. Poppins took me to a movie. Something popular. I don't remember what. But it was popular. There were a lot of people in line. Many of them were teenaged people. Including this one bunch, entering the theater immediately in front of me and Mr. Poppins. A mixed grouping of about a dozen girls and boys, all of whom seemed to be enjoying themselves, because they had the audacity to (no, not hope) laugh and talk to each other and stuff.

I did not like them.

I did not like them one little bit. So when we got to the ticket taker guy, this skinny kid with too much gel in his hair who looked just about old enough to get a learner's permit to drive, I decide I will be preemptive. This is the part where Mr. Poppins gets embarrassed.

I pre-complain.

As in, launch into a request, in a low, clipped tone, that the ticket taker, puh-leeze, come into the theater  ten minutes after the movie starts to check on those teenager people. Because I just know they'll be up to shenanigans and making noise and generally annoying me even more than they are now, what with their waistlines, ability to breath full breathes, and their drinking of giant sodas that would send my peanut bladder into convulsions.

I really hate those people.

So the poor learner-permit ticket taker guy looks at me, not directly at me, but out of the corner of his eye and all flinchy-like, as though I might strike at any time. Because you know, he's scared of me now and also a little confused. So I repeat myself. Emphatically. Because I am not putting up with this maybe-we'll-talk-and-giggle-and-throw-skittles crowd. I am not. Not even a hint of it. Not even a twinkle. If they so much as breathe heavy, with their spacious lung capacity, I want them O-U-T, out.

Mr. Poppins is blushing by this time, which is not something he does as a regular thing. I've seen it maybe three times over nearly ten years of coupledom. So I ask him, as we leave the trembling ticket taker to deal with saner customers, if I was over-the-top back there.

A little.

And then I launch into a defense of my actions. I just know those kids are going to be trouble. I don't want to pay ten dollars a ticket to listen to their color commentary or watch them have a popcorn fight. I am sick and tired of these teenager people, who don't know the first thing about how to behave in public, ruining movies and remember the last movie we went to where those kids were cutting up the whole time?

I really hate those kids.

And just look at them down there. Talking. What with their stage whispers and requests for more jujubes. I just know they're going to be a problem. I do. Mr. Poppins nods sympathetically and pats my hand and tells me he supports me leaving out the part about me being crazier than a poop-house rat. Eventually the movie starts. The lights dim. Sound blares from the speakers.

Exactly ten minutes of movie passes. No more, no less. The ticket taker is not going to risk angering me. A flashlight pokes through the dark. Looking for the source of--what? Not one person is so much as snapping their bubblegum. The teenagers are silent.

Not a whisper, not a peep, not a giggle.

And that is that.

Two weeks later I give birth to Secret Lulu and learn to ignore any and all noise that I, personally, am not required to do anything about. Especially if it does not occur in the middle of the night. I get my waist, lung capacity, and bladder back to their previous, more manageable sizes. 

I do not, however, regain my sanity.

Comments

[Alice]

We just went to see Julie and Julia and the women next to us were talking the entire time. I was annoyed with them but more annoyed with my boyfriend for not silencing them for me. He should know I would be too embarrassed!

[Diosa]

Hey, remember when we got banned from that movie theater?

[The Dol]

Polly, you have been known to be a stage-whisperer during a movie. You've gotten much better, though. Didn't I actually have to tell you once that I didn't want you to talk to me once the movie started? Frankly, that doesn't sound like me, so maybe that didn't happen. My memory is sh*t.

[Polly Poppins]

Alice, I would have said something for you, honey.

Diosa, um, yeah. But it wasn't our fault.

The Dol, your memory is fine. That really happened.

People, I'm not saying that I've never been annoying in a movie or even downright obnoxious. I also used to listen to my music at 10 decibel levels. But that doesn't make it okay for the teenagers. That just makes it karma for me.

[The Dol]

Oh, yeah, I should have added that I hate teenagers on principle these days, so I was right there with you on this post.

Ok, not including my cousin, baby sister of Pandora, who is an angel on earth. There are probably others, but mostly I hate teenagers.

[pandora]

wait wait wait.

my baby sister is an angel on earth?

hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

[The Dol]

yes. and now you're sleeping on the porch, pandora.

and no shower for you tomorrow! no cheerios either!

[The Dol]

oh my god! oh my god! i have to comment on Not A Post. the boas arrived yesterday! i have hidden them from my five-year-old. she knows the words to "Right Round" by Flo Rida, which is absolutely and completely inappropriate and I DO NOT CARE. she also knows the words to Fire Burning by Sean Kingston, which is fine. And hilarious.

[B.]

Not to worry, even though you lost the need to be bothered by other people's noises after childbirth, I did not, and on your behalf I will carry the torch and monitor and correct all such behaviors for you.