descriptive journal

So I finally get into the theater. I ignore the crackling, suction-cup feel of a floor that has had one too many sugary sodas dropped on it and carefully make my way to a seat far away from the sparse amount of people already inhabiting the theater. The large room is quiet, dark, and cool. Nothing else will ruin this night…or so I think. Three minutes into the previews two hulking masses of flesh waddle with their leaning tower of snacks to block my view in the almost-empty theater. The shining light of a nice evening out has once again been eclipsed by these creatures of hulking proportions. I silently decide that I will not let this defeat me. I inch over a couple of seats to the left and rearrange myself just before the next preview. Suddenly I am blinded by the bright flash of a phone. The man’s sausage fingers tap the too-bright screen while the other greasy hand is elbow-deep in a bucket of popcorn. I clear my throat to get his bulbous head to turn slightly in my direction and glare menacingly. He mumbles something to his wife and dejectedly turns his phone off, like I am ruining HIS night. I’m not the one with the spotlight-like phone in a movie theater, buddy. Once the movie starts I relax, but not for long. A sound like nails on a chalkboard enters my ears and I glance over to see the couple in front of me talking, and not in a whisper, but in voices that might as well have been yelling in the otherwise quiet theater. Normally I would ignore them, but they are getting on my last nerve and my blood is beginning to boil. I grip my small bucket of popcorn and in one motion dump the golden kernels onto the two. Jumping up, they spin around to face me, causing popcorn bits to go flying in all directions. Red with anger the man growls, “What are you doing?!” My heart jumps into my throat, and I start to regret wasting my over-priced snack, when suddenly every head in the theater whips around with a sound like twenty faucets opening full blast,