Last night I tried to watch Iron Man while surrounded by three of suburban Portland's most annoying residents. To my right, a 350-pound man who reeked of popcorn and body order. To my rear, a bored housewife who would not stop kicking my seat. And in front of me, a teenager who kept rocking back and forth like a meth head on a swing set.

The housewife annoyed me most of all so after every kick I threw my seat back in a doomed-to-fail attempt to, well, bruise her shins. My attempts at staging a strong defense only encouraged her. 30-minutes in, I gave up. I told my colleagues I'd see them after the movie and moved down a few rows....

...to a seat near a baby that wouldn't shut up and a 4-year old that made a game of dropping his jacket on the floor. He refused to be amused by even the movie's action sequences. When he wasn't screaming at his father to read the subtitled dialog of the film's terrorists or shaking a box of candy like a maraca, he was throwing around his clothing. After dropping the jacket, he would stand there and stare at it for a few minutes before picking it up and returning to his seat. Five minutes later, the jacket was back on the floor. Meanwhile, the father remained completely indifferent to his kid's downright creepy behavior.

I paid 11 dollars for this experience.

If I was ever given the option of scoring my own Iron Man suit or acquiring this man's amazing skills of obliviousness, I think I'd have to go with the later.

Labels: movies