I went to the cinema yesterday. I was pleased that I wasn't allowed to sit where I liked, because the nice lady at the desk chose a seat for me, and she's an expert. Before the lights went down it looked like she'd picked badly, because all the seats around me were empty, but as the sequence of car adverts rolled they soon filled up. I had to move my coat from the seat beside me, this because the cinema was almost a quarter full, and it was good to be reminded that I don't have a God-given right to drape my outerwear wherever I choose.
The couple who sat directly in front of me had brought popcorn and nachos, which delighted me, because it meant the soundtrack to the upcoming movie would be enhanced. As for the man who squeezed past me during the "forthcoming features" section, I know he didn't mean to tread on my coat because this was all my own fault. He also hadn't quite finished checking his Instagram feed, which is fair enough, and as the photos spun by in the darkness I noted he certainly had a lot of overtly exhibitionist acquaintances.
I hoped the two ladies sitting behind me would continue talking as the film proceeded, and they didn't disappoint. Both treated the upcoming movie as if they were sat on their own sofa, which felt very natural, providing an intermittent commentary on the latest plot details and how they thought the characters were progressing. Normally you'd have to wait for the DVD release to enjoy an additional background track, so this was a proper bonus. I was only disappointed that they didn't talk a little louder, because there were times when I couldn't easily take on board the thread of their discussion and was forced to concentrate on the main feature instead.
Meanwhile the Instagram feed reappeared every ten minutes or so, during natural breaks when the storytelling on the big screen dipped, and it would have been a shame for my neighbour to have to wait until the end of the film to see them. What a pity too that the nachos in front of me ran out barely halfway through the film, but one of the pair then unwrapped a giant Toblerone they'd smuggled in, which distracted me faultlessly every time another chunk was broken off. And what a good idea to start packing up a minute before the credits rolled, so as to be poised to make an almost perfect getaway during the final denouement on screen. I must go to the cinema more often.
