Dear Mr. and Mrs. Whoever,
I was sitting a couple of rows in front of you at Star Trek today. You may have seen me looking around in annoyance when your baby started to cry at the two-minute mark. You know, when things were already warp-speeding along. At first, during the trailers, when I first heard squawking from behind me, I wasn’t sure what I was hearing. But as the epic that is Star Trek got fired up, it soon became apparent that I was, in fact, hearing a crying baby.
Now, let’s not misinterpret things here. I love babies. I really, really love babies. I have a whole bunch of my own, in fact. When babies visit, I have to be persuaded to give them back. I love babies.
I don’t like the idea of babies at the cinema.
Sometimes, the theatre will have a Baby Day, when you can bring your papoose and watch a movie with other parents and papooses. This was not one of those times. This was a packed house of people who waited a long, long time and paid a lot of money to see the return to the big screen of science fiction’s greatest adventure. We did not pay to hear your baby cry.
Yours appeared to be in the three-four month range, which is a lot of fun. That’s the age when babies (a) become really aware of their surroundings and (b) graduate from meowing to caterwauling.
A note: babies don’t like loud noises. So a movie loaded with big explosions, loud thrusters and a booming, masterful score is not the place to take a baby. Especially after a long string of big loud trailers for GI Joe, Transformer 2, Terminator: Salvation and a commercial for a bank. Wait, that last one was probably okay.
I admire you for your dedication to Star Trek. “Honey, we have to see it, and we can’t get a sitter.” But you made the wrong choice. Look, I talk about Star Trek to millions of fans ever week. Well, thousands. Okay, dozens. And I held off for a few days because of a lack of child care. That’s the way life works.
And I admire you for moving away from my section … down to the very front, by the speakers. You know, where it’s louder.
As the movie powered forward, I noticed you taking turns getting up and down and taking Little Howler out into the lobby every few minutes. I figure each of you missed about half the movie. I’m sorry for that. Add those ticket prices to the cost of diapers and write it off as a learning experience.
At least your mobile phones didn’t ring. I hate that.