My Mother-in-Law purchased tickets to A Christmas Carol for me and Arwen as a Christmas gift. I was incredibly excited, as it's been years since I've seen a play, and couldn't wait to make the trip.
As we walked inside the building, and waited for the doors to open, I saw not one, but two very small infants. Pushing aside what could possibly become a distraction, I took my daughter inside and purchased her a drink that she had to finish prior to taking our seat. All of the ticket holders were told as we entered, "No food or drinks in the auditorium". Yet, when we arrived, we sat next to a women with one of the aforementioned infants. And seated next to her was a child Arwen's age -- gulping down a cup of soda from the concession stand.
Really, I could go into the other things that occurred when the lights went down -- babies crying (and in their defense, with all the loud and unexpected pyrotechnics, I would be squalling too!), children kicking the back of our seat (after being politely asked to stop), food wrappers being opened, cell phones going off -- but I won't. The purpose of this blog isn't to delve into that. Rather, I'd like to address people who feel that my Mother-in-Law's gift (and money) is less important than what they obviously think is their God given right to be assholes.
What is wrong with people? I don't mean to be a downer, but I was flaggerbasted by the adults who brought food and drink into a place they were specifically asked not to. Then to add insult to injury, decided their phone conversations were so damned important they couldn't shut their Motorola off for an hour and a half to spare the rest of us saps a bit of sanity.
Sadly, the bitch within surfaced, and I not only said something to the woman's child who was kicking my seat (who refused to stop after several warnings), but I was also forced to explain to my daughter (within earshot of the child her age and the mother that refused to follow the rules) that some people don't have the sense God gave a cockroach.
It was only after my declarations that the idiots in my vicinity threw away their drinks, chided their heathen children, and allowed my daughter, Mother-in-Law, and me to enjoy the second half of the play in peace. Word to the wise, peeps. You don't want to be called out for being a douche, then don't be a douche! Seriously, what do you expect?
Here are a few pictures. The cast was wonderful enough to pose for pictures and to give autographs. It's a shame they had to perform with cell phones blaring and babies screaming.
Blinky, Pinkie, Inky, and Clyde = the shoppers, employees, children, and pallets destined to make you work. While the strawberry, banana, and cherry prizes are the sales that lure you into the pit of Hell in the first place.
