Another pleasant evening.

I really like hanging out with Ron. It's just so damn comfortable being around him. He knows all my old hang-ups and all my old jokes. And he knows how I'm likely to behave in a situation.

Tonight, when we went to see a sneak preview of the pleasantly surprising "Stepford Wives," though, Ron wasn't present to witness my behavior with one particular person.

Ron had gone to get refreshments, and I was holding his seat. Other people, of course, were coming into the preview, and it was a full crowd. Now, I don't like holding seats for people and don't know anyone who does enjoy it, but I do it because, hey, you should be able to go get popcorn if you want without fear that you'll lose your quality theater real estate.

Anyway, this attitude-throwing woman in a floral print skirt with her three friends came up the steps to my row, where I had my hand on Ron's empty seat, and she proceeds to look for available seats.

Seeing none, she said aloud to her friends - in front of me, mind you, "I'm guessing there are no available seats ... SINCE PEOPLE HAVE THEIR HANDS ON THEM LIKE WE'RE IN THE THIRD GRADE."

Like she wouldn't do the same thing in our shoes, I thought. Like any regular moviegoer hasn't been a seatholder.

It's not my fault she didn't get there first.

So I looked right at her and gave her the reply she didn't really want.

"Yes, you're exactly right," I said, nodding.

She smirked at me, then turned to head back down the steps.

"The 'third grade' option is the only one thus available to us," I continued as she scoffed one last time.

So then, she turns back around, gives me this big, annoyed grin and then gestures with two thumbs up. Like I was the only asshole.

As she made her way down the steps, Ron passed by her and almost nudged her with his tray.

I told him, when he got back to the seat, that he should've improved his aim and knocked her down the steps.

But perhaps that would've carried it a bit far.

I know I didn't have to say anything to her, but, jeez, she was only pissed because she had to go for her second-choice seats. Because she arrived later than others. To a free movie.

She brought attitude, and I gave it back.

Upon hearing me relate this tale, Ron said he wished he could've seen it and that he would've been proud of me. And the woman sitting on the other side of me at the theater, who'd also been holding a seat for someone, applauded what I had to say.

Later, at dinner, Ron and I were eating outside on a bench at a restaurant. And we were having this great, involved conversaton.

And this guy walked up next to our table, stood there and made eye contact with us. Then, he pulled out his cell phone - standing right next to us - and proceeded to start speaking in loud Spanish on the phone.

I just turned away from the guy. But Ron, who's now my freakin' hero, looked right at him.

"Excuse me," he said, waving at the guy. "But I REALLY don't want to hear your cell phone conversation."

The guy just kept talking on the phone.

"HEY," Ron continued. "We were HAVING a conversation. I DON'T want you standing here, talking on the PHONE. Move DOWN the sidewalk."

The guy just looked at Ron blankly, then said, "NO ... SPEAK ... ENGLISH."

And he kept talking on the phone.

So a visibly annoyed Ron, in a display that will echo throughout my better memories forever, attempted sign language. Damn, it was beautiful.

I mean, he made his own hand into a tiny "phone" shape. Ron held his "phone" to his ear. Then, in the next motion, he pointed again and again to a destination down the sidewalk. And, while he did this, he narrated it in slo-o-ow English for the guy.

And the guy, with his "USA" muscle-shirt on, moved inside the restaurant.

Ron's a take-charge kind of guy. He asserted himself and freed our table from invaders.