Dear gentleman behind me in the movie theater,
Wow! That sure was a great movie, huh? I bet you thought there were a lot of very funny parts and a good soundtrack. I know you enjoyed it because I could hear your laughter. I, however, am not sure whether I enjoyed it or not.
See, I was unable to take in the entire movie experience. I was distracted by your feet.
Not that I’m saying anything bad about your feet. I’m sure you have very fine feet. In fact, they may be the world’s best feet. For all I know, they could be made of pure gold, although I suspect they aren’t as this would make walking very difficult for you.
As far as feet go, they seemed okay. At no point did I experience rank foot smells from them and they did not seem to be abnormally large and/or small. I do not blame your feet themselves for annoying me throughout an entire two-hour film.
I guess I have to take some of the blame. When I allowed my wife to choose seats for us, I did not know she would choose the ones in front of you. This was a terrible inconvenience for you as you were suddenly forced to put your feet on the floor.
You, though, handled it with such grace. A lesser man would have gotten up and threatened to burn the entire theater down when faced with this type of adversity. Not you, though. You just let out an exasperated gasp and mumbled something that was, in all likelihood, a string of profanities.
I must admit that I admire your persistence as well. Most people would have given up at this point. They would have sat there with their feet uncomfortably in front of them, touching the nasty, sticky floor.
That’s why I was surprised when I felt the back of my seat move. Then it moved again. And again. It moved over and over and over. It moved so much that I was sure there was an earthquake.
As a non-confrontational person (I’ve heard getting punched in the face can hurt), I had no interest in talking to you about this attack of my seat that your feet seemed to have set into motion. Nevertheless it was at this point I contemplated turning around. Fortunately, I did not have to say a thing as you were quickly distracted by the farting sound that your chair made when you moved.
After five minutes or so of this, I had again reached the point of confrontation. Don’t get me wrong, fart noises can be hilarious. I think that 99% of America would agree with that and the other 1% are the ones who farted and are currently too ashamed to admit they agree with that. When the fart noise is repeated 200ish times, though, it loses some of it’s luster. It moves from being as funny as the TV show Community (very, very funny) to being as funny as a Laffy Taffy joke (not funny in any way).
It was at this point that you surprised me greatly. You finally became bored with your seat, stood, and moved to the next seat over. Then, you were nice enough to allow your feet to reach over the back of the seat next to me, coming to a rest in the chair.
To the uninformed, it might have looked like I was on a date with a pair of legs. We sat there together for the rest of the movie. Actually, it was quite pleasant. I almost asked your legs if they wanted to do this again sometime, but legs don’t have mouths so I knew that my proposition would not be accepted.
Maybe next time, you could just go straight into the feet in the seat part of this process instead of going through all of the other torment. It’s just a thought.
P.S. Tell your feet I say “that’s not corned beef!” We became close enough during the movie that we developed a few inside jokes. They’ll know what I’m talking about.