unspoken rules

I go to a lot of BAFTA and studio screenings this time of year. The audiences are always industry professionals and their guests. The rules are simple. Show up if you say you will. Turn off your cells — all the way. And no talking. Most people abide.

But then there are those rules that needn't be stated because they are so obvious. 

Jill and I arrive early at the Warner Brothers screening room to see Live By Night. We are among the first, and the theater is empty. There's a break in the seating about half way down and one row provides the most legroom and unobstructed viewing. It's perfect. There are 7 seats. The first two are taken by a man and a woman. Then there's an empty seat, a man, and three more empty seats.

I ask the man who is sitting in the middle seat of the perfect row if he can move over one;  he'll still be in the middle and no one will be in front of him.  That way Jill and I can sit next to each other. My question is really rhetorical as I'm not thinking he's going to refuse. Why would he?



"No." he responds. 

"Really?" I ask incredulously.

"Really," he starkily responds.

"Can I ask why?"

"It has nothing to do with you." Then he adds, "That seat has cat hair all over it."

I look and see nothing on the chair. Besides, this is a private screening room. I am guessing there's another unspoken rule: no pet cats are allowed as guests.

The conversation continues.

"Why don't you each sit on either side of me?" the man asks.

"Well, I came with my friend so I would like to sit next to her."

"Why?" he asks. "You're not going to talk during the film."

"Well, I think it's nice if I come with someone that I sit with them."

I can't believe I'm having this ridiculous conversation with this ridiculous man.

Jill and I (rather Jill) decides it's not worth an argument. We are supposed to be professional, after all.

But then, about ten minutes later, before the film starts, the man suddenly interrupts our conversation and says, "Okay, I'll move down one."  And he moves to the empty seat to his left, the non-cat-haired seat.

No explanation. Maybe he realized he was being a dick? Hard to know.

The movie starts. About 30 minutes in the woman to my right opens a bag of candy that crinkles and makes a ton of noise every time she digs into it. It is so annoying that someone loudly says, "Shh." And when that doesn't work, ten minutes later someone yells, "That rustling sound is so loud." And then later, when she still remains unaffected by the pleas for her to stop, someone shouts, "YOU ARE BEING SO RUDE!"

This time she stops. Either that, or by then all her candies are gone.