Yes, kids, there is something called theater etiquette

Sat through a screening of “The Recruit” last night. And, with the usual dull thud, I realized something.

See, the one thing that I hate about these stadium seats is that there is no room to stretch out your legs. So most people either spend the entire two or so hours inadvertently kicking the seats in front of them, or they use the seats as a footstool.

I have no problem with this. I, too, have a hard time remembering that there are other people in the world who MIGHT GET IRRITATED IF YOU KEEP KICKING THE BACK OF THEIR SEAT. So when it happened last night, I just moved to a row that has a walkway behind it. Great. No one could bother me.

And then halfway through the film, maybe about the time that Al Pacino was chewing scenery as if it were a particularly tough slab of flank steak — Oh, yeah, sorry. That could have been any scene — I realized that I had draped my feet over the seat in front of me.

I yelled at myself and, politely, put my feet back on the floor.