John Christian Hopkins
So I went to the Allen Theaters, in Gallup, N. M., to see “Star Trek: Into Darkness.” And, no, I’m not a nerd. My wife, Sara, likes Star Trek. And so does our cat, whose middle name is Tiberius—just like Captain James T. Kirk.
Me? Heck, I don’t know the different between a Wookie and a tribble, and I’d probably kill myself trying to set my light saber on stun.
I mean I’d much rather stay home and watch “Fried Green Steel Travelling Pants of the Ya-Ya Magnolia Sisterhood,” or something like that.
I do like movies though, I must admit.
In fact the last time I drove through Polacca, Ariz., I raised my Diet Dr. Pepper and offered a toast to Douglas Fairbanks Sr., who spent several weeks in the Hopi community when he made a movie there back in 1920.
Bet you didn’t know that—bazinga!
I’m not old enough to remember Doug—or his second wife, Mary Pickford. But as a reporter I once got to interview Douglas Fairbanks Jr., a movie star himself. That was a personal highlight, to talk with someone who knew Clark Gable, Chaplin, Valentino and John Barrymore. And, whose first wife was Joan Crawford of “Mommie, Dearest” infamy.
Well, as I was saying, I love movies.
But I’m growing ever more reluctant to go to the theater without a light saber.
My pet peeve used to be confined to crying babies.
Sara and I went to a special 10 p.m. screening of “Iron Man 3” a few weeks ago and some people actually bought sleeping babies in car seats. Now, I’m no expert but I’m pretty sure there are only two types of babies—sleeping babies and crying babies.
And an Iron Man movie that is sure to have multiple loud explosions is the surest way I know to turn a cute, sleeping baby into a wailing monstrosity.
But now, babies are way down on my list, nestled somewhere between talking patrons and stale popcorn.
I mean we were sitting a row behind some nitwit who had to keep answering texts from her friends. I wanted to give a Vulcan Death Grip to her glowing cellphone.
“Just ignore it,” Sara whispered.
“Okay.” But I gritted my teeth and imagined beaming her down to the hostile planet of ShutYourDamnPhoneOff.
But that wasn’t the only thing that annoyed me. Have you ever noticed that the people who sit in the middle of a row are always the ones who keep getting up the most?
This one guy sat there all during the goofy pre-show and previews and wanted until the movie started to go get his popcorn and soda.
It’s like I paid $6.50 to watch his shadow go across the screen.
Then some little kid was singing! And the jackass parents didn’t even tell the kid to hush. It was the shushing of complete strangers that imparted that advice.
The movie was pretty good, but was it worth all the extra aggravation? Hardly.
I may boycott movie theaters until they let me bring my light saber in with me.