The Seat Police

Today was something of a special day for me. Why, you ask? Because I was admitted to the ranks of the "seat police!" If you haven't heard of the seat police, don't worry - many people haven't. In fact, I hadn't even heard of them until today.

The seat police are sort of like the bus patrol on grade school school busses - ordinary people singled out to maintain order amongst their ranks. In the case of the bus patrol, it's kids who basically tattle on their friends - "johnny was shooting spitballs," or "billy said a bad word and stuck bubble gum under the seat." The seat police are responsible for asking movie theater patrons whether the empty seat next to them is reserved or not, and asking people to "move down one seat" so that others can sit together.

I didn't plan on joining the SP today. It was pretty hot outside, and rather than sit home and sweat, my opposite sex significant other (OSSO) and I went to see Pirates of the Caribbean. As it turned out, many others did as well. The theater filled up pretty quickly, and not surprisingly, many people left single seats between themselves and the people nearest them. The couple to our left was no different.

As near-latecomers started arriving, I asked the man (I don't know his name, but I've taken to calling him "Mr. Cheap Bastard" or "Mr. Lying Sack of Shit") to my left whether the seat his wife's stolen popcorn (more on that later) and purse sat upon was reserved. He said yes, he was wating for a friend. I'm at a loss as to who would befriend "Mr. Lying Sack of Shit" - possibly "Mr. Used Car Salesman?"

The movie started, the mystery friend didn't appear (anyone surprised by that?), the movie ended, still no friend. So I, of course, turned to Mr LSoS and asked "I guess your friend didn't show up, huh?" At that, Mrs. LSoS said "Yes, and I left my phone on just in case he called." Mr. LSoS on the other hand said "what are you, the seat police?"

Yeah, I'm the seat police, Captain Milton Dorkenhoff. I'm here to make sure everyone else enjoys the movie. You, on the other hand, I don't give a shit about. Do you have kids? Do you teach them to lie? You shouldn't. You're not good at it.

Wait, you didn't really lie, right? I mean, sure, it wasn't actually true, but I wasn't supposed to ask you if the seat was saved, right? So I can't hold you responsible for misstating the truth?

I guess that's kind of like resumes that have subtle inaccuracies in them? You know, like "I worked at company XYZ for 20 years and my job was ABC" - sort of implying that you did ABC for 20 years but really you only did ABC for one year? As long as no one asks it's ok. Right, let's go with that.

Oh - I called him Mr. Cheap Bastard as well. I suppose I called have called him "Mr. Work the System" instead. The theater offers free refills for large popcorns - if you can empty a bag (and keep it down?), they'll refill it for you. When Mr. and Mrs. Cheap Bastard sat down, the first thing they did was start unpacking their picnic lunches - they had assorted candies in Tupperware containers, a couple of bottles of water (not the brand the theater sold), and a large theater popcorn.

BFD, they brought in their own water and candy.. I had an ice cream in with me from the place next door when I first got in line. But after getting their picnic set up, they poured their purchased popcorn into a Ziploc bag they had brought along (it was sort of like sitting next to MacGyver really), and then had the nerve (balls, juevos, cajones, eier) to go back to the food counter and get a their free refill; and took one bag home with them.

Folks, come on, are you really that hard up for cash that you need to pilfer theater popcorn?