Crying all the way to the second row

From my post on the In-Turn blog at GoErie.com

When another intern and I decided to see the newest Harry Potter film Wednesday, I could barely restrain my enthusiasm. I’d spent the last week editing stories about Potter mania and now, I had a chance to watch it for myself.

I arrived, late as usual, I sprinted in, found fellow intern (and self-described “huge nerd”) Andy Boyle and strode to get a seat in the theater, particularly after I learned that attendants had started sitting people more than an hour before.

We found two seats and then, fortunately, two better seats. But as the movie began, I heard a sound I am not accustomed to: a crying child. It started as a dull whine, with the sporadic spike of high-pitched whimpering.

It bothered me. A lot. I’ve spent the last few years in a college town, with an approximate age range of 18 to 23 with a few dozen 40- to 80-year-olds.

No children, just some college students who act like children.

Freshman year, I’d see curious toddlers walking hand-in-hand with parents at a grocery store, but when I could, I frequented the store long after the kids had gone to sleep.

Now, I knew children would be in the theater. I mean, the series “technically” targets adolescents and it was opening night at 8 p.m. Fine, but that does not excuse the piercing cries of an infant that someone brought to the show. I wanted to watch Harry and the gang clobber some bad-guys, not listen to the incoherent blubbering of babies.

As uncomfortable as children make any situation, I don’t oppose proud parents parading them around. I do, however, question the idea that a 1-year-old child would enjoy an unfamiliar place with dozens of strangers, no lights, loud noises and the regular cascade of cheers and jeers.

Come to think of it, I’m not even disappointed in the kids themselves. I think I would have cried even louder.

To be sure, I asked my mom if she ever brought me screaming into a theater. She said that she never did, pointing out that they’d have to purchase a ticket for someone who can’t understand what’s going on. Even when I could grasp the film, my parents took me to the drive-in theater down the street.

“In case you were out of control, we could leave,” she said.

Good advice, Mom.

I know a few twenty-something moviegoers I’d like to introduce you to.