Bandwidth

Illustration by Kris Platt.  Check him out: http://krisplatt.blogspot.com/

Johnny is on holiday this week.  He left me instruction to find my own date, which I naturally protested [Editor’s Note: Because you’re a fanny.]  I marched right into Paul’s office and I told him I wasn’t going on a date this week, and I’d use the column space to write something of some substance for once.  He told me to get the fuck out of his office and get myself a date, or he’d fire me.  So I called up a friend of mine.

‘Hey man.  Look is there any chance you could hook me up with a girl to see a movie with?  I need a date for this week’s article.’
‘What kind of girl?’ he asked.
‘Anyone.  Just as long as she’s bland and innocuous and I can ignore her.  With a nice ass.’
‘Actually there is this one girl I’m banging who I’m looking to get rid of.’  Eye roll for dramatic purposes.
‘Is she good looking?’
‘Hell yeah!’
‘Is she cool?’
‘Yeah she’s a really nice girl.’
‘Then why do you want rid of her?’
‘Ah, just bored, you know?’  No.  I do not know what it’s like to be bored of shagging a hot chick. Jesus.
‘I hear that, man.  It’s the worst.’  I replied, and arranged to meet this broad in Annie’s the following day.

Over my fourth whiskey I got a text from an unrecognised number: ‘Wer u sitn?’  I looked up to see this fat milly -  looking terribly out of place in her velour tracksuit – standing just inside the door scanning the bar.  Good God this is going to be the worst yet. I considered just not replying.  Let her think I stood her up.  There’s no way she’d hang around with all these ‘alternatives’ about.  But I have a conscience somewhere in my blackened soul, and I sheepishly waved her over.
‘Smells like piss in here!’ was her greeting.  Fuck my conscience.  She wanted a ‘blue wicked’ so I made her get it herself.  Then I stepped it up and started laying into the booze.  I texted my match-making friend.
‘Dude, you were shagging this broad?’
‘Naw man, that’s one of her mates.’
‘What!? What the fuck happened to the cool chick with the nice ass?’
‘Oh I decided to keep banging her after all.’  It’s nice to have these choices in life.  I imagine.  I gritted my teeth, pounded back another Jack and told her we were leaving.

When we got to the cinema I realised I was much drunker than I thought, which cheered me up a bit.  It also made me a bit mouthy.
‘Don’t get a large Coke!’ I yelled, ‘No one needs that much Coke in one sitting.  You’ll just have to piss during the film!’  I think she thought I was joking because she got the large anyway.

RULE #1: Toilet breaks are permissible but should be kept to a minimum.

She led the way to our screen and took a seat directly behind some poor schlub.  I didn’t even sit down.
‘Move,’ I told her, ‘you never sit behind someone unless you really have to.’

RULE #2: Unless it is absolutely unavoidable, never sit directly behind someone else.

She got up, moved two rows forward, and sat directly in front of him.
‘No!’  I screamed, ‘You can’t sit right in front of him either.’  I finally ushered her into a suitable seat and almost immediately a couple of dorks sat right in front of us.

RULE #3: Unless it is absolutely unavoidable, never sit directly in front of someone.  Especially if you have big hair.

The movie started.  Good.  I didn’t have to look at her any more.  Then in the periphery of my vision I noticed an all too familiar glow.  I didn’t even turn to look.
‘Stop fucking texting!’ I hissed.
‘Oh fuck off grumpy guts.’  Grumpy guts!

RULE #4: ANY use of mobile phones is strictly prohibited.

‘I’m going to the toilet,’ she said.  Jesus.  I told her!  I was losing patience, unable to follow the movie, and rasping for another drink.  She came back in a huff, slouched in her chair and put her feet up against the back of the seat in front.  I couldn’t believe it.

RULE #5: Never, ever, under any circumstances kick the seat in front.  Try to refrain from making any contact with it at all.

‘Her voice is annoying,’ she loudly pointed out (referring to a character in the film, whose named I hadn’t even managed to glean.)  At that point I just snapped.  I got up, pushed past her legs, and went outside.  I knew what had to be done.  I went shopping.

Only fifteen minutes later and I was on my way back.  In one hand, gripped with white knuckles [Editor’s Note: Well, you’re not black.] [Author’s Note: This is NOT the time.] was a half bottle of whiskey, which I was openly slugging from in the street.  In my other hand was a twelve-inch [Editor’s Note: You wish!] cast iron frying pan.  Why exactly I chose a frying pan I’m not sure.  Maybe it was because I watched Shooting Stars the previous night.  Maybe I was just wild drunk.  Either way, it felt right.

I got back to the cinema, stumbled drunkenly to Screen 12, took a slug of whiskey and slung the bottle into the corner, just like John Wayne would.  It smashed like a tasty petrol bomb without the burning rag.  That got her attention.
‘Where the fuck have you…’  I didn’t even let her finish.  I swung the frying pan up over my head, double handed like I was swinging a mallet at a fairground, and brought it down on her head with a massive fucking ‘WWHHHOOOOONNNNNGGGGGGG!’  She slumped in her seat, old cold, and a stunned silence filled the room.  Then as I stood there sweating pure whiskey and breathing heavily I heard someone start to clap.  Someone else joined in.  And so on and so on, until the entire cinema was on their feet clapping and cheering and whooping it up.  I raised the pan in victory and realised then that I no longer held a frying pan.  I had fashioned a wok of righteousness.  Fade out.  Cheering continues.

Let this be a lesson.  You know who you are, you bastards.  You pollute cinemas the world over.  Most of the time you will get away with texting during the movie.  Most of the time people will be too gosh darned polite to ask you to be quiet or to stop kicking their seats.  But someday, somewhere, you’ll kick the wrong seat.  The person in that seat will be a whiskey soaked maniac who has been fucked over one too many times while trying to enjoy a movie in peace.  And he will smash your fucking head in with a frying pan.  You have been warned.

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