I'm Not As Funny As You Think

When I was a child, I loved to grandstand.  To work the crowd and keep everybody laughing and happy.  When we went to Hershey Park (a regular outing), I'd make a big show of crossing myself as I buckled into the loop-dee-loop roller coaster.  This always got a chuckle out of the old fogies in line.  [I realize now, in my 37th year, that those "old fogies" were likely younger than I am now.  I sincerely doubt you'd find me in line for the Sooper Dooper these days.)  Never mind that I wasn't raised religious and probably crossed myself incorrectly.  The point is this:  I was a ham.

Recently, I went to the movies with a friend.  (Yep.  Twilight, again.)  These "kids" came in a quarter of the way into the film and made a big ruckus.  I shushed them.  Later, some other adult shushed them.  And still they persisted.  As I sat listening to them, I realized they were being "hams" too.  (Takes one to know one.)  I left the movie to go to the bathroom (see note re: old fogies above) and when I came back they had scattered.  My friend informed me they spooked, thinking I had gone to get the manager.  Truth be told, I had thought of summoning The Manager on the way to the bathroom.  But then I'd decided The Manager was likely one of their peers and how effective would s/he be?  And, really, shouldn't a shirtless Jacob be enough to keep my attention through WWIII?

My sister wrote recently about how to deal with some foul-mouthed and ill-behaved teens.  I don't know the answer, truly.  After my own experience, I might just tell them "You're not as funny as you think."