Listen to this in my voice:
I went out to catch a movie last night, and I scored the prime spot—smack dab in the center. Perfect view, or so I thought.
The place was packed. To my right, a man in his late 20s, there with a buddy. To my left, another man, early 20s, also with a friend. The first 15 minutes were spent in the usual awkward dance—making sure my arms weren’t invading anyone else’s space and trying not to move too much.
The first half of the show was uneventful, except for Deadpool’s signature mix of nasty, dirty, but somehow wholesome jokes. Soon, it was intermission. After a break, the three of us were back before the movie resumed.
Enter the fidgeting fiasco. The guy on my right started jiggling his legs—continuously extending and contracting his thighs, finding the perfect rhythm that turned our shared seat unit into a mini earthquake zone. He was lost in his phone, oblivious to the tremors he was causing.
Just as I was about to say something, the guy on my left (or, should I say, my savior), also absorbed in his phone, started doing the same leg dance—only, out of sync with the first guy. It was like watching a bizarre game of see-saw, but with seats. Luckily, their out-of-phase fidgeting actually dampened the shaking.
There I was, caught in the middle of this unintentional physics experiment, trying to stifle a laugh as these two oblivious fidgeters illustrated a bizarre form of destructive interference of waves.