Please Find Your Seats

Many of you know that one of my truly favorite places in LA is the Arclight movie complex. While it's really a multiplex with the amazing Cinerama Dome as its anchor, they are committed in providing you with the greatest moviegoing experience. There are no pre-film commercials. No Los Angeles Times. No Sierra Mist. No Fandango. Two trailers and then your feature presentation. The screening rooms are superlative. Plenty of ultra-comfy room. The popcorn is the best I have ever had. There's a gift shop in the lobby. A restaurant for a meal before or after your flick. There are mucho star sightings, especially during Christmas week when Teri Hatcher and I once waited on the concession line together.

And all seats are reserved.

Yep, you can buy tickets on-line beforehand and actually select the seats you want. (The aisle always pour moi.) While you can't really control whether or not you might wind up with some slob sitting next to you, I temper that possibility by never going any place where there could be a high incidence of bum attendance. And there are no such Philistines at the Arclight.

Imagine that. In a crowded show, you don't have to worry about running out and making sure somebody saves your seat. I actually went to a movie with a friend, who was yakking it up with somebody so much, I came back from the bathroom to find a complete stranger in my seat. (You know who you are, my dear.) It's movie going Nirvana.

So you can anticipate my giddy delight when an Arclight-like complex was built and scheduled to open five minutes from my house. It's called the Landmark and proposes to have all the ecoutrements of the Arclight. They will specialize in foreign films, independents, and documentaries. Plans call for a wine bar, a gift shop, a restaurant (not due till 2008), and nifty concessions.

And my beloved reserved seats.

The joint opened last Friday. Both my baseball teams were on the East Coast and already finished up. They were playing a documentary I wanted to see. "Show Business", which focuses on the 2003-04 Broadway season.

Slam dunk. I decided to check it out. I got into their website easily and even reserved my aisle seat. Good thing, since it looked like a full house.

I got to the theater, picked up my ticket, bought a succulent hot dog, and toddled down to my screening area. I noted that their idea of a gift shop was nothing more than a DVD clearance bin at Best Buy. Minor point.

I climbed up to my assigned perch on the aisle and surveyed the crowd around me. There was an older couple adjacent to me, but they were quiet and had cleaned up well. This was looking good.

And then the fun started.

I had never ever seen folks in the Arclight grapple with the reserved seat concept. But, in its translation five miles to the west, the notion got either more complicated or the people got a lot stupider. I pick B.

It all started with some old fossil who showed up and discovered that his reserved seat was two rows away from the screen. This should have come to no surprise to this idiot, because they show you your seat on a chart when you buy the freakin' ticket. I could see his angst plain as day. He had the perfect solution. He mounted the stairs and plopped his hemorrhoids down in the seat right in front of me. And then he has another lapse of good judgement. He engages me in a convo.

Him: "That seat was too close to the front."

Me: "Yeah, but this is a soldout show, and somebody probably has this seat."

Him: "it's better up here."

Me: "Well, you should have thought about that when they showed you the location on THE CHART."

With a wave of his bony hand, I was dismissed.

As the crowd started to swell, I sensed impending doom for Gramps. And I was right. A few minutes later, a gay couple (this was a documentary about Broadway and apparently a good night to burglarize West Hollywood) showed up with tickets for where this coot was sitting. But, they opted to sit in the seats alongside of him. Then, those people came. Then, another gay couple showed up. And, everybody kept changing their assigned seats. Before long, there had to be at least twenty people sitting in the wrong seats as a result of Moses' obstinance. It was an alternative lifestyle version of Dominos.

Finally, another gay couple arrived and they would have none of this. They wanted to sit in the seats they picked out. And they started arguing with this other gay couple.

"Bitch."

"Skank."

"Ho."

And these were men.

The poor Hispanic kid, assigned as usher to this theater, starts to introduce the movie to the crowd. He is totally oblivious to the gladiator-like free-for-all now being conducted in Row G through I.

The movie actually starts, but the house lights don't go down for ten minutes, because a manager is summoned to referee the melee. And I note that the Old White Bastard is quietly in the seat in front of me, gumming down on some Red Vines.

As the film played out, I decided to kick his chair a couple of times. Just for funsies. Now, I was trying to engage him in some dialogue.

Him: "Will you please stop kicking my seat?"

Me: "If you were in your right seat, I wouldn't be kicking that."

He moved.

Dinner last night: Thai Chicken Pasta at the Cheesecake Factory.