People who know me know that one of the things I consider symptomatic of the decline of civilization in general is the fact that (at least in LA) people seem to think it's okay to get their cell phones in a movie theater. It's bad enough that there are these eerie blue glows from time to time in your peripheral vision as someone or another texts their friends, but then the stage whisper calls ("I'm in a movie. Can I call you back..."). For fuck's sake. Is it the pope or something? Are you the president? Jesus. Just turn the damn thing off for two hours.
But I love seeing movies on the big screen and I persist.
So last night, it's not a phone call. Oh no. Nothing so low key as that. I'm watching the Pink Panther (yeah, it was pretty lame) and there's this guy coughing. Not really coughing like a cough you might expect--coughing like wild animal noises coughing--I really shouldn't be out in public, code blue, here comes a chunk of my esophagus coughing. Outside of critical care units in hospital I don't know if I've ever heard such noises.
Call it a measure of the poorness of the movie or the fine-ness of the company, but rather than bugging me, it amused the hell out of me. In fact, my own laughter must have been at least as disruptive as the esophagus-cougher. I'm going to hell, I know (but I have connections down there, so I think I'll be alright.)