Disclaimer: If you haven't seen "The Phantom Menace," you may not want to read this.
Last Friday my friends and I went to see "Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace Featuring A Dozen Retarded Little Boys." At least that was the version of it we got. Some stupid Hanover parents took a little herd of nine-year-old boys to see the movie for like the 10th time and decided to deposit them behind us.
By this time all of the little boys knew the entire story line, which they broadcast in little boy announcement form to anyone who was in the theater. "HEY YOU GUYS! HEY GUESS WHAT? HEY WILL YOU STOP HITTING ME! WE'RE GOING TO MISS THE PART WHERE OBI-WAN KILLS DARTH MAUL!"
I am sure deaf people eating dinner in Murphy's didn't miss any of the conversation. It's not like I actually wanted to WATCH THE STUPID MOVIE AND FIND OUT what happened or anything.
I don't know what the kids' parents were thinking. Actually, I do know what they were thinking, because they were all dads, who obviously got packed off to the movies while the wives did something fun. What they were thinking probably went something like, "Yeah, it was a real good plan to listen when the wife wanted to have kids at the same time as all her friends. Oh my God, John's kid wasn't kidding when he said he had to go potty ..."
The dads were pretty much resigned to the fact that they were assigned to handle movie night, and dammit, if the wives were going to give them such jobs they would screw them up so badly they'd never be asked again.
I tried to use my Big Kid powers to exact revenge. My Big Kid powers were pretty much limited to sitting up as straight as possible so that the little kid behind me couldn't see. That worked until he figured out that standing up on the seat and jumping up and down was a much more fun way to watch the movie anyhow. Plus it gave better elevation to continue broadcasting plot. "LOOK! OBI WAN IS GOING TO JUMP UP AND KILL HIM RIGHT HERE! I SAID STOP HITTING ME!" Soon the entire herd was joining in the seat-jumping fun.
Meanwhile the dads were continuing to bring the kids more Twizzlers and Skittles to keep them powered up. They were getting testy, those little kids. Past their bedtime. When I told one of them to shut up, he said, "NO YOU SHUT UP! HEY YOU GUYS, LOOK, HE JUST KILLED HIM! I TOLD YOU!"
My mom claims I once went through a similar phase, by which I mean being small and annoying, but I don't buy it. To the best of my recollection, I popped out more or less ready to join society. Back in my day, I was a good little kid, sitting around watching He-Man. I may have been a little overly enthusiastic when I yelled the "BY THE POWER OF GRAYSKULL!" part along with He-Man, but dammit, there were no adults trying to watch at the same time.
At any rate, we all made it through the movie, which was quite good, even with the running narrative. The lights came up and we all started to leave. The dads got up, too, from their little dad area on the other side of the theater, where they had stationed themselves to avoid having to be responsible parents. They ambled their way over to where the kids were still jumping on the seats and making light-saber noises as they hit each other. Actually, it was a suspiciously slow amble the dads did, as if they were hoping that maybe if they were slow enough some loving, childless, stupid married couple would steal the load of kids in the interim.
Even with the distraction during the movie, however, I must admit it was kind of hard to leave the film without picking up some of that light-over-darkness happy Star-Warsy feeling. Sort of an internal peace, and a oneness with one's fellow creatures. At least until one of the fellow creatures yelled, "HEY LOOK AT ME CATCH SKITTLES IN MY MOUTH! HEY WILL YOU STOP HITTING ME!"
