Why go to the movies when you can watch everything in the comfort of your own home in a controlled environment, featuring a comfortable seat within immediate proximity of a clean bathroom? Because those poor, laborious directors and cast members need your money to eat, that's why! However, one group that doesn't deserve your money is the concession stand at the movie theater. Candy and popcorn are classic friends to bring into a movie, and they don't talk, text, or take up any seats! However, they can get a little expensive, and if you're cheap like me, you'd rather not pay more than two dollars for a bottle of water. Sure, you could do what everybody else does and hit up the dollar store for your goodies, or you could do something way cooler. I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, but don't tell anyone, because that'll ruin it for everyone! Okay here it goes: You can bring backpacks into movie theaters, and you can totally start grubbing during the middle of a movie.

Now before you buy a ticket for the new "Tarzan" movie just to see if I'm fibbing, I've only tested this at the theater chain known as Cinemark. I really did try to find a list of bag policies for different theaters, but Google surprisingly let me down. According to this article, Regal Cinemas checks bags and backpacks, AMC lets their all-powerful managers decide, and some place I've never heard of called Carmike Cinemas, which sounds like the Bojangles of movie theaters, was too much of a sissy to institute any sort of bag policy. Cinemark declined to comment on its bag/backpack policy, but I'll comment on it. It's baller.

The last time I dined alone in a dark room full of strangers was when I saw "Civil War" and "The Jungle Book" back-to-back. I knew I was in for a double feature because having two friends that work at Cinemark means Bobby gets a free movie every now and then. That's right. Not only do I smuggle entire meals into movies because I don't want to pay for popcorn, I also don't pay for movies. It's called frugality, and what you're experiencing right now is called jealousy. I filled a glass container with a salad so big that only a backpack could house it, sealed it up, and made my merry way to the picture house. After watching Captain America love it when boys fight over him, I made my way to "The Jungle Book" just in time to miss a trailer for "The Angry Birds Movie." The theater was semi-vacant, and I was semi-hungry. I unzipped my backpack and hauled out my dinner, which was somehow still chilled, complete with utensils and napkins. If I was really feeling it I could've brought some condiments, but it's hard enough to make sure food goes into your mouth while your eyes are focused on a giant screen, and I didn't want to make a scene spilling Crystal everywhere. However, despite my best efforts, I still managed to get the attention of the patrons of Cinemark.

You should've see the looks I was getting! I felt more out of place than Mowgli during the Water Truce. However, I knew my taboo practice of saving money would bother some of the more "traditional" movie-goers, so I owned it. I locked eyes with my critics and laughed audibly, extra virgin olive oil dripping down my chin as the cowards quickly turned away. "What'sa matter? Never seen a genius enjoy his dinner?!", I snarled internally. As dark as it was I could see the the fear in their eyes. Come to think of it, some people looked worried before "Civil War," and not because they saw the trailer for "The Angry Birds Movie." Oh Dear... I realized that it wasn't my eating that made people wary, it was the backpack.

Considering the frequency of mass shootings in the U.S., some having occurred in movie theaters, I should've known that my backpack was enough to pierce the calm vibe of the theater. If you've read my article on the way I dress, (which you should), then you know that my casual attire is a cause for concern, but to add on top of that a backpack with the Jersey Mike's logo on it? Unacceptable. All jokes aside, you can never know what a person's intentions are anymore. Luckily, my only intention was to indulge in my hedonistic "double-freeture" dinner, but only I knew that. If I saw me walk into a movie theater with a backpack on, I would probably get the same feeling as when a wasp enters my house and it won't leave. Sure, the wasp isn't hurting anyone, but I know it could hurt me if it wanted to, even though I have no idea what it's thinking. I don't have an allergy to wasp stings, but I do have a gun allergy, and the number of mass shootings and general acts of violence in this country have made me a little more cautious than usual. Just the other day on the MARC train I saw an unattended bag and started to worry that the bag was going explode because everything's been coming up Bobby lately, and I'm overdue for a good maiming to put me in my place. Rather than tell someone, I decided to make sure my Spotify playlist was completely rid of Pat Benatar. No one can know how much I love her. Soon enough one of the conductors came and carried it away, and with a sigh of relief I started re-adding Patty B to my playlist. Hit me with your best shot, MARC train.

Aside from the fear and unease I caused by eating a salad during "The Jungle Book," I still intend on taking advantage of this awful thing I'm doing until Cinemark decides to start cracking down on backpacks, and I recommend trying it for yourself. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm not fooling anyone. They have to know I'm packing some serious nosh when I waltz in with that smug look on my face, practically schvitzing with excitement over the fact that I'm getting a free movie with a meal of my own design. I have complete control over the situation, but I worry one day someone might take advantage of Cinemark's negligence for evil deeds, and harm many innocent people who are just trying to enjoy being alive and uninjured. Just like Shere Khan's distrust of Mowgli, you can never know what a Man-cub is thinking, so maybe I should stay in my own territory and just watch movies at home, where there is food, shelter, and no one trying to kill me(?).