Dear Alamo @Drafthouse,
Thank you for creating a place where adults can routinely enjoy a movie among the company of other well-behaved adults. Thank you for the No Talking/Texting” rules and the No Little Kids policy. Coupled with the ever-changing menu, gLous drink list, and fabulous service, it’s an adult oasis in an otherwise family (ahem) “friendly” world.
My favorite no-talking spot is, of course, the uncensored version of “Magnited States of America“. I applaud you for sticking by your standards. Your rules are, in fact, the biggest reason I even darken the door of a movie theater. Yours is the only one I’ll visit. Between your policies/service and the RunPee app (which I keep discreetly running in night mode, in my lap, and away from neighbors), I can enjoy a movie experience.
Thank you for keeping the movie-going experience one worthy of adult admission prices.
Dear parUNts of the little Crotch Dropping next to me at the Alamo Drafthouse,
I knew we were in for a miserable experience when you seated him to the inside instead of between you two. No decent parent would put a kid between them and a stranger when there was another option, even with a seat of space.
The little bastard (and I’m pretty sure this is literal given how little attention he got/sought from “Daddy”) of ~7 years was far too immature for the two-plus-hours movie experience at the Alamo Drafthouse. He was bored 30 minutes before the movie started, and again 20 minutes before the movie started, and again 10 minutes before the movie started. While he might be “technically” old enough to quality for admission, his maturity is far too young for this excursion. He caught my attention the most when he asked if you two called him a “douche” (you said, “dude”). I know you’d save those precious first words for his baby book, but you were too busy chatting to notice he uttered such a statement. Where, pray tell, did he hear did he hear that word used in a derogatory manner?
During the movie and even with a bevvy of food (popcorn, an entire personal pizza, and an adult-sized drink), he was bothering you for more food and attention. When that didn’t work, he climbed up and down over and over again sitting up tall and then down low. He was annoying, even two seats away. When his Mommy-never-says-“no” version of ADD kicked in, he began bouncing his theater seat between the up/down positions repeatedly. You still said/did nothing.
I knew I was not being too sensitive when the young girl (~9 years old) in the row ahead of us and a few seats over kept turning and looking back at him. Her parents had the impeccable manners to tell her to stop.
He pushed too far when, about half way through the movie, he stood up in his seat. I told him, “Sit Down.” I did not yell. I did not use the expletives I wanted to, though I’m sure he knows them all. I simply did what any normal adult would do. It takes a village to raise your child, after all! He was far more well behaved after being scolded by a stranger. He was not perfect, but he heeded the advice of discipline. You should try it, sometime.
Yet, when the movie was over, and after I walked right past you three, you accosted my husband and told him you didn’t appreciate what I said to your child??? While I’m sure your feelings were genuine, you should have aired your grievances with me. My husband neither speaks for nor represents me. You got lucky; he’s a lot more polite than I am. Heh, I bet you were surprised by his reaction of “I don’t care what you think.”
Had you discussed this with me, I would have loudly explained to you that “parent” is a verb and that you weren’t doing it. I would have cited your “fuck trophy’s” egregious behavior to all within earshot so that others, namely those behind and in front of him, could chime in. I’d have explained the policy of the Alamo Drafthouse and that everyone is expected to keep quiet during shows. (And, no, his tall/low sitting, bouncing the seat, asking for food, etc. is not quiet.)
In addition, I’d have told you that your child is a shining example of what’s wrong with our country. And, before you could question that logic, I’d tell you that I’m the daughter of two teachers, that I grew up learning to behave in public, that I have a Masters’ degree (and then some) in Education, that I expect you to teach your child to behave, and, finally, that parents like you are the numero uno reason why I don’t want kids. I don’t want my kids to have to associate with the little fucker you’ve bred. Why should I have to be the “bad guy” to my kids when people like you won’t discipline yours? This year, it’s movie etiquette; in five years, it’s bullying and sexting; in ten years, it’s drugs or worse. Please for the love of humanity, say “no”, now!
If I really wanted to make your night miserable, all I had to do was raise a card; you’d have been booted by a manager. How much fun would that have been for the little Crotch Fruit? Instead, I gave you a pass and made sure your kid knew his rampant behavior wasn’t acceptable. Count your lucky fucking stars that you got to finish the movie instead of blowing $30 on tickets and that-much-or-more on food/drinks before being thrown out. …and then having to try to see the movie again to appease the power of his wishes over those of you!
Next time a stranger confronts your child about his behavior, you need to look at what he’s doing that would warrant intervention!
I was a good kid. / Why is yours a little shit?