Dark Knighty Night

I went to see "The Dark Knight" last night, simply because it has been touted as one of the best "Batman" films ever made. I went by myself, as all of my movie buddies are in far away places or have already seen it. I have been to movies by myself before, and most of them felt more than a little awkward, because, even though they're not, it seems like everyone in the theater is looking at you and whispering, trying to figure out why you, poor thing, are at the movies by yourself: Did she get stood up? No. Did she show up for the wrong showtime? Nope. Did her movie buddy really want to see "Mamma Mia!" and she just couldn't handle Pearce Brosnan singing so they decided to go separate ways? Well.... Did she for some reason cast aside all social norms and decide to come to the movie by herself just for the hell of it? Why would someone do that? Ummm....

This one was not awkward at all, though, due the sheer number of people that were packed into the theater excitedly talking about Heath Ledger and Maggie Gyllenhaal and whatnot. It's kind of like at a Star Wars premiere; when you show up, you instantly have so much in common with the other movie-goers, and nothing can break that bond (not that I've ever been to a Star Wars premiere). I got there early, got a good seat, and through the miracle of the iPhone read about the English cricket team getting crushed by South Africa while I waited for the magic to begin.

About four minutes into the previews (which lasted 17 minutes...no lie) a very large man tapped on my shoulder and asked if the two empty seats next to me were taken. I replied that they were all his, and he and his wife quickly took them. Resting atop the man's gigantic arms was a small child, a little less than a year old. I tried to suppress a groan. Sitting next to a kid in most any other situation would be fine, but I had just dropped nine freaking dollars on this piece of supposed cinematic greatness, and I was determined to enjoy it. And let's face it, you can't really get sucked into the Joker blowing people up when there is a tot cooing in your ear. That's right: cooing. If I was a 10-month old child and my parents brought me to the 9:15 p.m. showing of "The Dark Knight," not only would I have clown nightmares for the rest of my life, I'd be just a little upset.

And he was. The cooing stopped pretty quickly, and turned into more of a gurgling, rapid breathing, pre-crying noise. Like he was warming up for the big one. Those of you that know me well know that small children freak me out. Especially crying ones. This wasn't looking good. Luckily, seeing that I had pressed myself to the farthest edge of the seat, with the majority of my body spilling out into the aisles (which is a fire hazard--I learned that last night from a very nice usher ) the father sensed my discomfort and took the kid outside. The mother followed and I thought they had abandoned all hope of enjoying the movie. The father soon returned though (without the wife or the kid), and took his seat next to me. Apparently, the other two didn't want to see the last hour and a half of the movie.

And then, right at the climax, the Joker is running around like a madman carrying out all sorts of violent criminal mischief, and we're all on the edge of our seats, anxiously awaiting Batman to pop out of a dark corner somewhere. There is a brief silence to build suspense, and it is shattered by a bone-rattling snore. The man next to me has fallen asleep, because, come on, this is just not exciting enough. The audience giggles, and I'm wondering if the poor guy is having clown nightmares.

He started awake a couple of times and laughed or said, "Oh my goodness" in my direction just to let me know that "HEY! I'm awake! Just in case you thought I might be sleeping. Cuz I'm not." The movie turned out to be pretty good, and when we all walked out, there was a visibly angry woman standing just outside with a sleeping child in her arms.