The curse of the nearby seat

This was going to be among the "Things I hate" series, but I started feeling like a bad version of Conan O'Brien and decided to kill that segment. Or put it to sleep for an indefinite time anyway, and I wish I were so lucky - so there'd better be no complaints...

Let's face it, I am doomed. I'm not only talking of my inability to find a suitable boyfriend or, you know, a cool job, here, but also of the fact that I strangely seem to attract the misfits of society (that's because I've decided to stop using bad language) when sitting down at the movies or the theatre. And I've been going to the cinema a lot lately. A lot. Also saw a stand-up comedian - a very cute stand-up comedian, I might add.
OK, let me digress a bit. This is going to be one mother of a disjointed post, I can tell. It might not even always make sense, but bear with me. Or don't. Your choice. Not my responsibility. Yep.
So, as I was saying, I attract the misfits of society. I've always noticed that wherever I sit at the movies, they'll follow me, a bit like that Ricky Nelson song, you know the one, right? it was reprised in Sister Act. There. My musical culture battered to death in one fell swoop. So. Easy mix-ups notwithstanding, I'll get the whispering cretins, the ADD afflicted, the knee jerking right into the back of my seat... I've made my peace with that. Kinda.
Problem is, we've now reached the proper paranoia-inducing stage. Everywhere. All the time. At the oddest times. And no I don't mean in the dead of night, when I'd basically be looking for trouble, no, no, no. We're talking even in the afternoon, when the theatres are almost empty and it should be easy to watch a movie in peace.
So let's start with the normal situation when having a brain-dead moron (oops... is that bad?) sit down next to me could seem well within the realm of possibilities. That stand-up comedian, that very cute stand-up comedian. Full house. Of shrieking girls. Or women. One of which sat down right next to me. And started giggling. And commenting. The whole fucking show (ah, forget trying to be polite: I'm just not good at this, am I?). Actually not the whole show. At one point, I sighed and the friend I was there with whispered loudly "Tell her to shut up". She took the hint.
One day at the cinema, ironically I was watching Factotum, with all of twenty people in there, a very rancid-smelling bum sat down two seats away from me. Not far enough.
Yesterday, I was sitting two seats away from a guy who chortled quietly, more like snored, or snorted, I'm not sure, made some very irritating interest noises anyway, during the whole of Lord of War. Can you tell someone to stop sounding interested? How?
This afternoon, I went to see a lovely, lovely, lovely French film called Je ne suis pas là pour être aimé. Maybe seven people were already there when I got in. I picked a whole row to myself, and sat down in the middle of said row. Bliss. Said row being kind of at the back, a few rows more up front were still very much free. Five minutes later, a middle-aged woman gets in, spots me, zooms in - I could have read "target locked" in her eyes if I had looked, I'm sure - sat down right next to me - not even the customary in-between seat - and proceeded to snicker annoyingly during the whole movie. The two guys who sat down after her, right in front of me - don't forget I'm on the short side: it's easy to be taller, it's easy for a head to block (even a very small) part of the screen (it might be very small but it's oh so frustrating when you think you've just found the perfect seat - and don't even try to find a moral in that story) - kept turning round to try and understand what was going on. Nothing, guys, just me and my luck - seems like I've finally managed to share some of it, though. Maybe you'll think before you sit down next time.

Oh. White rabbit, white rabbit, white rabbit.