Fred was a gentleman and let Gisah and I sit together and took the orphan seat that was closer and way over to the left. We were further back and over to the right. None of us were close and were behind the center line.
As we sat down Gisah and I were very excited about the play. I seem to recall Gisah had seen it before, so I was a bit more excited about it. The audience was packed. There were very few empty seats. Then just before the curtains rose, it happened.
"Oh!" I crinkled my nose. Damn. That was nasty. My eyes watered. I looked over at Gisah and she was looking at me. I shook my head, which in mime theater talk means I didn't do it! The lights were out and play started.
We fanned our programs and tried to waft it away. Which worked a little bit. Then, about five minutes later, it happened again. Then again, five minutes later.
Every five minutes we were hit with a fart from the man sitting beside me who obviously had Delhi Belly, Montezuma's Revenge, or whatever town or person they want to name it after but means that your body is saying YOU SHOULDN'T BE AT A PLAY! You should be on a toilet like a normal human letting that foulness out, not trying to keep it in!
Honestly, it went on and on. Gisah gagged a little. I started to feel nauseous. I couldn't concentrate on the play. I think there was something about little boats in the water and I was fantasizing about throwing this contaminated dork over the boat, when the lights went up.
We bolted, found Fred and blurted out, "The man next to us is farting!"
I'm sure everyone next to us heard it. "We cannot stand it." "It is disgusting." "We have to leave." "I'm about to throw up."
"Uh. OK." Fred is amenable to just about anything but I know he hated to be in the seat by himself. This solution was great.
So we left.
|Jam, curled up on the floor of the movie theater.|
Fred got up to use the restroom and the lady in seat 4 leaned over and asked, "Do you want us to move over a seat so the dog has more room?"
"Oh, he has plenty of room, between my chair and my husband's. But thank you for asking." I thought that was sweet. This theater was super clean. Not one popcorn kernel anywhere. But there chairs are weirdly spaced so it was hard to scrunch my purse between them. It kept falling to the floor. GRRRR.
Fred came back and sat down. The movie started. Jam was starting to sleep. Then some of the action started. Jam would wake up and watch it. Then he would move around and try and get comfortable.
Fred leaned over, "Did Jam fart?"
"Oh no he didn't!" I may have done the head bob thing as well. If there is one thing I can tell you it's where a fart is coming from in a theater. I was on the end of the aisle. Jam was with me. WE WERE NOT FARTING. I have no problem admitting to a fart or assigning blame on Jam when he is farting, but when he isn't, I'm not going to just blame him because he is the only dog in the theater!
Evidently, the girl behind Fred had said in a whisper, "I hate when I go to the movies and there are people farting!"
Fred said the farts were about every 5 minutes for the first part of the movie. Then the man next to him (Seat 3) got up to go to the restroom (I'm guessing). (Seat 3 is the farter! Says me.)
Jam continued to pop his head up at every roar from the Hulk. It was like they were talking to each other or rather the Hulk was being annoying and Jam was an old grumpy man who needed to give him a glare.
Finally the movie ended. We waited until the end for the shawarma scene which was worth it. Many people smiled at Jam, so I'm guessing that they didn't blame Jam either.
They blamed Fred.