Okay the straws were just a decoy so I could construct this seething, hate-filled post. I am livid. Trembling.
I think a little back story is warranted. Todd and I took Quinn to the movies tonight, and I was really looking forward to some face time with my secret boyfriend, Matthew Fox. His hair was freshly shorn, his clothes crisp, eyes squinty, stubble perfect. The mood was set. Quinn was next to me, happily horking down a shitload of candy that Todd surprisingly A) consented to, and B) snuck into the theater. Anyway, things were great until about half way through the movie when I carefully opened the pocket of my pea coat to check the time on my cell phone. Instantly I felt a hand clenched on my shoulder, and heard a loud, raspy, entitled, "Turn that light off!" so close to my ear I felt the spittle. I was shocked. It harkened back to being scolded in school, and I was too intimidated to turn around and look at the guy. Todd was on the other side of Quinn, so I couldn't ask him for help, and it's just as well, for it's likely he would have quoted me a Scripture about either peace or endurance. I wanted uh, a gun. Several minutes later the guy and the woman I presumed to be his wife, shouted in unison at some other people behind us, "STOP TALKING!" There were also intermittent "shushs." But the worst part, the part where I may have ended up in jail tonight, was that every time Quinn leaned over to whisper something to Todd, and I assure you, this movie theater regular was totally inaudible, the man would KICK OUR SEAT! The movie was nearing the end, and I wasn't sure how just how to confront these shitheads, so I just waited for it to be over. Once it was, I stood and looked into their pathetic, pasty white faces, and the 40 year old man was boring holes right through me. "Fucking thanks for kicking our chair through the entire movie," I said as I imagined ramming his glasses down his throat. Mrs. Shithead hissed that I deserved it because I opened my cell phone (in my pocket!). People were watching at this point, including my nine year old, so the best I could do was to say, loudly, "Nazis are so 1940's." I don't know why I said that, especially since they aren't sophisticated enough to know that that sentence is meant as an uber-cool insult, but I really emphasized Nazi, so that was satisfying.
I decided on our way out to wait for them, filling Todd in on their behavior as we walked. I was shocked that he agreed to a confrontation. He was really not happy that the guy kicked Quinn's seat, but let's face it, I'm a much scarier sight to behold than Todd could ever be, so we agreed that I would accost them. I wanted blood you guys, I'm not kidding. We waited for about twenty minutes, but they never came. They either slipped out another door without me seeing, or they stayed in their for an hour, correctly assessing that any number of people might be waiting to bash their brains in upon their exit. The longer we waited the more obscenities and sweat poured out of me, and Todd ultimately expressed a fear that I might actually decimate someone, and he tugged at me to leave. I can not recall being this angry ever before in my life. I was shaking, my blood was ice, and I felt that I could never resume being human until I had annihilated something. I texted Sam, and she ordered me to breathe, and not kill anyone. Then she pointed out that my blinding rage was only hurting me at this point, and to try to let it go. Slowly, my need to destroy something began to fade, until finally, I was at B's doorstep, trying like hell to jam the wrong key into the door, and in the process of finding the right one, got to slam the screen a lot. I was there to let Tawney out, while they were out of town, and the good old dog was so excited to see me, one of the icicles in my heart started to melt.
I didn't get a good enough look to ever recognize The Shitheads again, and it's probably for the best. I'll just be content with my image of them kicking some other kid's seat, and that parent carrying out what I wish I could have done. And I'll do my best to limit my violence to uncooperative screen doors.