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A Day in the Life: Thank you for not talking
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Posted by tomasi Wed Feb 21, 2007 10:27:20 PST
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0 responses 0 comments The Nile Theater holds many memories for me. Not only is the place that my wife, Debbie, worked as a ticket girl, it is also the place where my mouth nearly caused me to lose my front teeth.

I recall that it was probably early in the 1980s and we had gone to watch a newly released science fiction movie. My brother, Jim and his wife, Tina, had accompanied Debbie and I to the show. Believe me when I say we love science fiction. Apparently, so did half the population of Bakersfield, because we had to wait in a very long line.

By the time we finally purchased our tickets the auditorium was nearly full and the only four seats we could find together were in the third row. The third row? Yeah, we had to slouch way back in our seats to watch the towering figures march across our field of vision. I hate having to sit in this position, but as I said, I love science fiction, and I wasn’t going to let a potential sore neck keep me from watching Dennis Quaid’s thrilling performance.

When the movie began it seemed to be a signal to a group in front of us that it was OK to talk. Directly in front was a group of at least eight big men. As I was trying to focus on a thrilling space battle they started joking and laughing, oblivious to the fact that they were in a theater. They laughed and yelled down the line until I had had it. (This is the part where common sense vanished, only to be replaced the feeling of teacher invincibility!)

When I took all I could I stuck my head between a couple of them. Now, I should have asked nicely, but I was a teacher and was used to demanding quiet in a room.    

So, without even thinking of possible consequences, I said, “I didn’t pay money to listen to you talk!” Suddenly, it was quiet as a tomb.

My brother, who was scrawnier than me, leaned over and said, “You’ve done it now, idiot.”

From that point on, time seemed to stand still. Before I could come back with an equally derogative comment, the two men stood. Talk about towering over us. These guys were big, heavily muscled, and, at the time, were apparently considering tearing me limb from limb. I gulped but didn’t raise to my 5-foot, 10-inch, 150-pound height.

I shivered when my wife took my arm. Wasn’t I supposed to protect her? I swear I heard growling as one of the men began rubbing his baseball mitt hands together. Then, to my horror, one of them reached for me. I swallowed my heart as I watched the mammoth fist snake across the seat.

Suddenly, a voice from the other end of the line said, “Sit down you guys. He was in the right.” Saved! I was saved!

“Oh, alright," the reaching giant muttered and the turned and began watching the movie. We had sat there for approximately another 20 minutes when one of them turned to me.

In his most polite voice, he said, “I’m sorry sir. You were right. We should never have disturbed others.”

"That’s OK," I said finally, but could think of nothing else to say.

”Well, it won’t happen again,” he added and turned his enormous head to face the screen.

Once again leaning in my direction, Jim hissed, “Doesn’t matter because when the movie is done they’ll kill us and take our women hostage.” I managed a wan smile and did my best to watch the movie.

Toward the end, I whispered, “Pass it down, don’t watch the credits –– let’s bolt out of the theater."

Nice plan, but it didn’t work, because a bunch from the first row immediately blocked the aisle. Trapped and doomed!

I was doing my best to pull myself up taller, especially when standing beside a group whose shortest member was probably 6 foot 2 inches, when one of the young men said, “I’m their captain, I apologize for any inconvenience.” I smiled and nodded then watched as they filed by.

I exhaled and turned to Debbie who said, “Next time leave your whistle at home, Mr. Tomasi.”

Later, as we walked toward our car, Jim said, “Nice, Joe, you were going to take on the entire Taft football team.”

I imagine my gulp could be heard in all the way to Taft.

So, a lesson to think before speaking had been learned. Sadly, this was the last time we went to the Nile, but every time we get together with Jim and Tina, the story is told and retold. In one such version I am picked up, but the basic story remains pretty much as I have related.

And my whistle? I’m not even sure in which archive my whistle is stored, but I learned my lesson to self-monitor my conversations. It works. Well, most of the time!

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