Gentle readers, last week I attended the "Back to the Future" marathon at my favorite movie theater. In addition to the swanky reclining seats and the proximity to my home and office, it's my favorite because it doesn't skimp on concessions. Sure, there's popcorn, candy, and soda. But they also serve 3 kinds of hot dogs, soft pretzel bites with nacho cheese, ice cream, lattes, alcoholic beverages, and more.
Growing up, I never had this many options when I attended - and later worked at - movie theaters. But if I had, I would've probably loaded trays with hot dogs, pop corn, candy and sodas...just like the teenager who sat in my neighboring seat.
I'll admit, my adult side was a little bit put off by the amount of food (and subsequent trash) this kid was collecting. But like I said, I understand the impulse. Especially in a 3-movie event, it's important to have some munchies handy.
However, this particular kid had attended the marathon with some other family members. And while they were happy to give him his space and let him and his buddy sit in a different section of the theater for the show, I witnessed an unfortunate and uncomfortable interaction during the intermission between film 1 and film 2.
An older relative (a young grandmother, older aunt, or possibly a family friend) came over to the kid's seat and seemed shocked by the amount of food he'd just brought back to his seat. "That's an awful lot of food!" she exclaimed.
The kid barely even made eye contact with her as he replied, "We've got another two movies to get through."
Aunt-grandma-friend repeated her exclamation that it sure was a lot, but he shrugged it off, ignoring what sounded like genuine concern for his well being. Instead, he flopped into his reclining chair and went about the arduous task of propping his feet up with the motorized leg rest.
Aunt-grandma-friend walked away.
I happened to be attending the marathon alone, and so I pondered the exchange in the few minutes remaining during intermission. I remember what it was like to be that kid. I used to love treating myself to nitrate-stuffed hot dogs and sugary soft drinks. I laughed at and rebelled against comments like, "Do you really need that refill?" or "Isn't that your third box of candy tonight?" But deep down, I resented the people who said those things to me, because even though they had my best interests at heart, they had chosen the worst possible moment to bring up the sensitive topic of health and wellness; moviegoing was supposed to be about entertainment and indulgence!
Even though I understood where she was coming from, I thought the aunt-grandma-friend was way out of line. Her comments sounded judgemental even to a casual listener, and she brought it up in front of the kid's friend, who was also consuming many concessions. That kid's indifference seemed cold, but probably hid a lot of contempt and guilt. His friend will probably feel judged by that aunt-grandma-friend every single time he interacts with her from that moment onward.
So where am I going with all of this?
First, I want to make it clear that there's no need to call out overeating at a movie theater. The moviegoing experience should be whatever the moviegoer wants it to be; stuffing their face as Doc Brown shatters the space-time continuum, or sipping a small bottle of water as Matt Damon outsmarts the Mars landscape. If you're concerned about a loved one's diet, find a time when they are not with their friends to suggest a few healthier habits. You'll do a lot less damage to them that way.
Second, if you're attending a movie marathon, get up and leave the theater in between films. Stretch your legs, visit the restroom, grab a refill, and don't come back to your seat until the next movie is starting. Other people can really kill the mood with their dumb personal crap.
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