No Bones About It: The Prestige

Did anyone doubt that I'd be seeing The Prestige on opening night? I'd been looking forward to it for months. Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, David Bowie - what's not to like?

I'll tell you what's not to like - being late to the movie and sitting in the very back row on the far side, sitting next to the loudest nose breather on the planet who spends two and a half hours scratching the swishily-clad back of his companion and simultaneously usurping all of the arm space between us.

Let me break it down. I love going to the movies, and I like things to be a certain way when I'm at the movies. A good seat is priority, which in my mind, justifies getting to the theater an hour early on opening night to make sure. None of my friends grasp the importance of getting a good seat, so we're almost never there as early as I'd like to be. (And yes, I've accepted and embraced the fact that I'm anal. Bless the dear little hearts of the friends who tolerate it.)

While we arrived at the movie early, apparently we weren't early enough, as the only available seats were in the very back. I love the annoyed looks on people's faces when I ask if that seat is taken, because it's the same look I give people. I don't like to sit next to anyone other than my friends, so I don't blame them.

I was lucky enough to be seated next to the number-one-all- time-most-super-in-love- couple in Utah. The way they sat in eachother's laps was nasueatingly precious, and I could have ignored it if not for the intermittant jabs to the ribs I got as they shifted spooning positions.

And then the breathing started. I don't know how this man managed to breathe without shooting snot rockets with every exhale. I really don't know - I tried to mimic his forceful breathing technique and ended up with dribbles of snot. He sounded like he was having an asthma attack and his mouth was sewn shut. I literally plugged my left ear to try and enjoy the previews. I was still determined to enjoy myself.

I managed to momentarily forget about the nose breather, and in that moment, that one blissfully quiet moment, the back scratching / vigorous rubbing started. I'd just like to say thank you to K-Mart for still selling Members Only jackets - you know, the really swishy, noisy kind? Have you ever tried to focus on something when the only thing you can hear is the swish-swish-swish of a back scratching near you?

And let's not forget the periodic slurpy kisses that were being exchanged, at which points the nose breathing became so unbearable that all I could do was shock them with my full-head-turn-straight-on-dagger-eyes. I became so distracted that my mind began rehearsing all the different scenarios of me going Pompei all over Wonder Nostrils.

Here's a thought: if you're a couple that is so in love that you can't stand to keep your hands or mouths off eachother for more than eighteen seconds at a time, then perhaps the movies isn't the place for you. Save it for Sacrament meeting.