Movie Karma Does Exist

My plan was to come home and write a directed by Mark Webb. (Apparently that’s his real name.) But I decided to write about an experience I had there instead.

About a third of the way through the movie,  the woman sitting three seats to my right began talking on her cell phone. I couldn’t believe it. I could feel my blood pressure rise, and I could sense the tension in Dave, who was sitting on my left.

Because he knows.

But I’ve been trying to adopt a more live-and-let-live attitude in my old age, so I gripped the arms of my chair and took a deep breath. Soon after that, she stopped talking.

Gosh, Emma Stone is cute. And that British boy does a mighty convincing American accent. I got back into the storyline and forgot all about the rude cell phone lady.

But then it happened again. I tried to pierce the side of her head with my pointed glare, but she was oblivious. Once again I gripped the arms of my chair and took a deep breath.

Nope—it wasn’t going to work this time. I moved past the empty seat between me and her companion and leaned over him to tell her as politely as I could muster to get the hell off the phone. She turned away from me and continued speaking into her phone.

The guy she was with said, “If she’s on the phone, it’s probably an emergency.”

"If it’s an emergency and you need to speak on the phone, then do it outside,” I said in a slightly louder voice.

She ignored me.

My heart began to beat rapidly and I was biting my lips so hard I’m surprised they didn’t bleed. But I sat down.

I briefly considered throwing Dave’s half-full cup of water in her general direction. But I didn’t.

I fantasized about grabbing her cell and throwing it across the theater. But I didn’t.

I looked at my husband, who was pleading with his eyes for me to let it go.

I took a few more deep breaths and concentrated on the movie. I did not throw anything except a couple of icy stares.

Somehow I made it through the whole picture without violence of any kind whatsoever. Peter Parker saved New York City, and I restrained myself from turning into the hideous lizard creature up on the screen.

It is a habit of mine to watch all the credits. I figure that it takes a lot of people to conjure that movie magic, and they deserve my appreciation even if it’s only in the form of staying while all their names roll by. Besides, ever since Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, I’m always hoping that there will be a funny bit if you stay till the bitter end.

Since I was at the Cerrito Rialto, all the ushers were scurrying to clear the dinner dishes from the 6:10 show in order to seat the folks for the 9:00 screening. To get out of their way, I gave up my seat and leaned against the wall to watch the rest of the credits.

While I scanned the names of gaffers, best boys, and caterers, I couldn’t help but notice that the rude cell phone lady and her companion were  looking for something. An usher produced a flashlight and soon the manager hauled out a broom. The woman had the desperate air of someone who has lost something important.

Of course I was hoping she lost her cell phone because I believe in poetic justice.

The manager started to walk past me. I asked him if the woman with the broom had lost something.

“Yeah, a contact lens,” he answered.

I smiled. Karma does exist.

To read more of Tanya's pet peeves and rants, go to For Words.