Don’t touch the hair.
I once punched a guy in a movie theatre. I’d always thought that when I got in a fight I would feel heroic and proud, but all I felt afterwards was embarrassment. The occasion was an advance screening of Brian De Palma’s Snake Eyes. That in itself should’ve been a warning: the word “Crap” should’ve blazed on the marquee.
My friend and I sat in the front row, center. Scarcely had the movie begun when I felt a tug on my hair. The troglodyte behind me had put his feet up against the back of my chair, and was stepping on my ponytail. I was furious, but I tried to be polite. I turned around, looked him in the eye, and said, “Please don’t step on the chair. Pakibaba ang paa ninyo, wag nyong aapakan ang silya.” He stared at me as if he did not understand what I had said, so I repeated it. He went on chewing his popcorn with his mouth open, but put his feet down.
Only to put them up again twenty minutes later. Again, I turned around and told him to remove his feet from the back of my chair. I said it louder, in case he had a hearing impediment. I could hear my voice echoing inside his skull. His mouth was half-open, as if to catch any stray sources of protein such as flies and cockroaches. Or maybe he lacked the chromosome that controls the open and shut mechanism of his yap. He did not reply to me, but he put his feet down.
The next time it happened, I realized that no amount of civility would work. Clearly it was subhuman. It did not occur to me to transfer to another seat—I wanted to sit front row, center, and this moron was not going to make me change my habits. I should’ve walked out right there and spared myself from that godawful stupid movie, but for some reason I stayed. I sat up very straight, my spine not touching the seat.
When the movie ended I addressed the troglodyte. I asked him why, despite my repeated requests, he kept stepping on my hair. His reply confirmed my diagnosis. He said, “Ha?” So I punched him in the face. Really put my shoulder into it. A direct hit. He said, “Bakit mo ko sinuntok!” and tried to slap me, but his hand only caught the edge of my glasses, which fell to the floor but didn’t break. Then I started calling for the guard, which must’ve triggered some genetic memory because the troglodyte fled. True, I hit him first, but I was provoked. Besides, whose side would the guard take—the open-mouthed subhuman, or the articulate female?
I slunk home in an agony of shame.
Answers to questions you might be asking, unless you wandered onto this site purely by accident >>>
August 7th, 2007 at 06:54
oh my god! now i have another reason to like you.
August 7th, 2007 at 08:41
It’s really a shame you didn’t floor him or at least draw blood. Hope you learned your lesson. Practice, practice, practice!
August 7th, 2007 at 09:26
next time, sport an afro.
August 7th, 2007 at 11:46
Jessica, I think you lost the fight on your first attempt at pandering to his baseness. When he did it for the second time, it should have been obvious to you that he was purposely trying to annoy you. And he succeeded. For the 3rd time! You know what they say about fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me? He got you precisely where he wanted.
I once had to deal with people commenting on every detail of the movie (that I actually loved: Aureaus Solito’s Maximo Oliveros) for the whole theater to literally hear by shushing them sternly a few times, until my much younger sister (who was much wiser in these matters) reminded me that that tactic was not only NOT going to work, it was going to make them taunt me even more. She said approaching them and asking them very kindly, which was key, would have shamed them to stop. I think with the creep in your case, that may not have worked. Simply moving to another chair, as you realized, would have solved everything.
Sun Tzu, in his Art of War, DOES admonish us that when you start using violence (verbal, physical or otherwise), then you’ve already lost.
August 7th, 2007 at 12:52
Doffing my hat to you already for successfully effecting a veneer of coolness, because, heavens forbid, if that were me, all hell would have broken loose. Think of Brian de Palma’s snake coming to life gorging on a prey, fangs out first, not its forked tongue.
Indeed it beats me beyond the realm of subhuman quirks that some creatures would have the gumption to give in to and display vestiges of their primeval backgrounds. Which reminds me now of one of my trips to a sleepy town in Negros Oriental, circa 2000. Our rickety commuter baby-bus was now trailing along this dusty feeder that snaked around this breathtaking rocky ravine, a landmark of the municipality of Mambaid, a marked bulwark for NPA’s.
Suddenly this oldish guy, who was seated in front of my uncle and me, made an issue about his ticket. An altercation ensued with the conductor. The explanation had seemingly riled him a nerve higher. Amid the the din of motherly hush and childish cries, I could only hear the words “bombaâ€, “granadaâ€, “wag na kayong dumaan ditoâ€, the works. Obviously, his message was clear : he was an NPA, he could demand for a free ride, and he could blast any bus plying that route. Then he stopped the bus. As he was about ready to get off, I stood up and told him, “Sige ‘Noy, ayo-ayo, kapoy kayo sawayon ning mga tigulang nga buluyagon…†(Take care, Old Man, it’s tough dealing with old farts who are a pain in the ass…)
Of course, I made sure, my uncle, an army, had his weapon already cocked somewhere.
August 7th, 2007 at 13:46
I am so sorry this happened.
Anyway, I hope someone rams Dr Feelgood’s unsolicited advice down his esophagus. Honey, this is not Oprah.
August 7th, 2007 at 14:21
saang sinehan po nangyari ito? 1998 pa ang Snake Eyes, hindi ba?
eniwey, mas maganda ang Femme Fatale ni de Palma.
August 7th, 2007 at 18:39
or maybe always tote a stun gun, so that you can fry the balls of cretins such as that guy.
I know sound like i am advocating violence, but air heads like those are just trying their best to exhibit their “masculinity” and angas. and the best way to get to them is hit them where it will really hurt (in many ways).
i’m a very peaceful person, but jerks like those deserve to be walloped on the head. Civility does not mean allowing people to trample on your rights.
August 7th, 2007 at 21:30
haha. the sentinels are owning! Our hero has drew first blood, using the fist of fury. haha!
August 8th, 2007 at 01:26
“Anyway, I hope someone rams Dr Feelgood’s unsolicited advice down his esophagus. Honey, this is not Oprah.”
Honey yourself. Sun Tzu knows, again, who here lost. Bwehe.
August 8th, 2007 at 07:57
next time don’t punch…yanked his balls instead…real, real hard…it’s like you’re holding the symbol of humanity in one instant and then you pulled it off the face of the earth…my wife did that once in a theater…never saw a guy cry so much after…
August 8th, 2007 at 08:30
I suppress the urge to deck people about 50 times each day, so you’ve just described one of my wish fulfillment fantasies. Didn’t you feel good about giving in just a teensie tiny bit?
August 8th, 2007 at 17:36
At times, being civil to an uncivilized creature doesn’t work. I give my thumbs up to J.Z. I would have done the same, pramis. As in pramis. Or make him talk to my slippers – in other words, binato ko na ng tsinelas – will really aim at his face para makausap nya talaga ang tsinelas ko.
August 9th, 2007 at 19:54
if this happens while you’re watching Ouija then things might get even messier…
August 15th, 2007 at 00:27
I agree with Juan… you should have drawn blood. People like that shouldnt be let out in public.
Dr. Feelgood … what planet are you from????
August 15th, 2007 at 02:08
I’m from the planet of REASON; not from the planet of gaga, dodo, sycophantic gofers (AKA op di eyps). =)
October 6th, 2007 at 15:11
It is often difficult to decide whether you go down to a jerk’s level or you maintain an educated stance. Often, so called jerks win by putting you in a bad light because people would not bother to know the whole story- the who, the what, and the why. Giving in to your urge to slug the moron may be basically wrong… but it feels so damn good, isn’t it?