Hart Beat

Banned from the movies

I can't show my face at the local theater ever again - at least not during any of the Sunnyside Grand Cinema's matinee times. From now on when I go to the movies, I must wear a disguise. I'm afraid if the management sees me going in, someone will be dispatched to escort me back out as being a disruptive influence on other theater-goers.

Plus, more embarrassing, someone might accidentally recognize me as a "shouter," and start pointing their fingers and whispering behind their hands.

"PSST- isn't that the woman who shouted in the theater on Mother's Day during the scary part of the movie," will be among their comments.

"Hey mom, isn't that the woman who swore in the middle of the "Van Helsing" movie?"

Psst, hey isn't that ?..."

Yeah, yeah, that was me. But's it not as if I shouted "fire" or something. I just screamed. My daughter, Becky, said it echoed off the back walls of the theater. I don't believe that.

In my defense, it was a very scary part and I couldn't help it. I certainly didn't want to be the one who hollered in fear first. Unfortunately, I was, which was bad enough, but I followed up that noise with a less attractive one. For that I apologize, but as far as the scream goes, well that monster shouldn't have fallen out of the sky like - "boom, there it is."

Of course, I know better than to talk out loud in the theater. My other daughter, Sarah, always reminds me to use my little voice when she takes me to the movies.

"Mom, you are not at home, where we can just talk any time we want too," she always reminds me.

That is her first warning before the credits and previews of coming attractions begins. A poke in the ribs is my next warning. Apparently, she forgot to tell Becky that little bit of "taking Mom to the movies" etiquette.

Sarah always reminds me that when we step inside the theater I must remember that I'm not sitting in my living room, stretched out in my easy chair.

"You just can't talk anytime you want too," she warns.

I know that. I've been going to the movies since I was in diapers. I know how to behave in the theater. I just can't help anticipating the bad guys predictable jumping from behind a wall or from the shadows. I know it is going to happen, yet still I jump or worse yet, still I yelp when the obvious happens.

I usually try to avoid really scary movies, foregoing movies in which I know there will be creatures that go bump in the night. I spook too easily.

But I really wanted to go see "Van Helsing" with my man Hugh Jackman, cuz I think he is just too - well you know.

Really, I did try to prepare myself for any sudden bursts of action. I knew scary things would be inevitable in a movie about hunting vampires.

That infamous yell just burst out of me when that ugly giant chasing Jackman's character simply popped onto the screen. It startled me, just as the director intended it should. So, really it's his fault that I was spooked by the sudden appearance of an incredibly huge creature.

Still, I will admit that it was embarrassing and especially when that expletive burst out as a follow-up comment.

I wouldn't blame Becky and my son-in-law, Nick, and his mother, Cris, if they never wanted to go to a movie with me again. I know they were trying to distance themselves from me as we left the theater.

It was a Mother's Day none of us will forget. Unfortunately neither will the 100 other people who saw the adventure film with me last Sunday.

The next time I go to a scary movie I'll be the one going incognito and with a muzzle. Just don't point at me and whisper. That's just rude.


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