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persephone33 Jan. 22nd, 2010 09:38 am)
persephone33 Jan. 22nd, 2010 09:38 am)I've been to the theatre a lot lately, even more so than usual for me, and I'd like to get a few things off my chest in regards to theatre etiquette, if I may. Last week as the topper to my birthday, Nolan and I enjoyed the Addison Water Tower Theatre's production of Laughter on the 23rd Floor. The play is standard Neil Simon fare: jokes, jokes, funny characters, jokes, poignant moment, more jokes, and a monologue conclusion. The acting was good, the set was nice, Nolan and I looked good, smelled great and were by far and away the youngest people in the building. Evidently the Thursday Night Preview 'Pink Tints and Blue Rinse' crowd transcends the boundaries of my little town. No lie; the median age had to be eighty-seven. That means that yep, there were indeed some one hundred and forty-two year olds. I'm just saying.
I digress.
The reason for this little jaunt into internet land is to address the Lady in the Blue Sweater who was sitting two rows ahead and two seats to the right of me ... Yeah, you know who you are: When they make that clever little announcement at the beginning of the play, you know the one that says "Please silence all pagers and cellular phones?" What that really means is to FREAKING SILENCE YOUR DAMN CELLULAR PHONE. That includes the little blip that notifies you of a missed call. You were HOLDING the silly thing, I KNOW you heard them, too. All TWO DOZEN OF THEM. If you didn't, Blue Sweater Lady, certainly you could hear the HUFFS of DISDAIN from everyone within a ten foot radius to your seat. Also, to the couple in front of us last night at The Wizard of OZ? Maybe during "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" is not the best time to have your tongues DOWN EACH OTHER'S THROATS.
Ahem.
There is a special hell for people that talk in the theatre, and below that hell is the hell for people that think they're too important to be unavailable for an hour an a half so that you don't ruin the suspension of disbelief for everyone else. If you're THAT important, you probably don't need to expend the time it takes to see a play. You should be doing something important like manning a space station or performing a kidney transplant or something.
In short, it's NOT all about you, Blue Sweater and Idiot Couple Making Out. Turn off your cell phone and keep your tongues to yourself, or risk really loud huffs and a petite redhead kicking your shins in the parking lot after the show is over. I mean it.
Thanks so much,
Carrie Leigh
I digress.
The reason for this little jaunt into internet land is to address the Lady in the Blue Sweater who was sitting two rows ahead and two seats to the right of me ... Yeah, you know who you are: When they make that clever little announcement at the beginning of the play, you know the one that says "Please silence all pagers and cellular phones?" What that really means is to FREAKING SILENCE YOUR DAMN CELLULAR PHONE. That includes the little blip that notifies you of a missed call. You were HOLDING the silly thing, I KNOW you heard them, too. All TWO DOZEN OF THEM. If you didn't, Blue Sweater Lady, certainly you could hear the HUFFS of DISDAIN from everyone within a ten foot radius to your seat. Also, to the couple in front of us last night at The Wizard of OZ? Maybe during "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" is not the best time to have your tongues DOWN EACH OTHER'S THROATS.
Ahem.
There is a special hell for people that talk in the theatre, and below that hell is the hell for people that think they're too important to be unavailable for an hour an a half so that you don't ruin the suspension of disbelief for everyone else. If you're THAT important, you probably don't need to expend the time it takes to see a play. You should be doing something important like manning a space station or performing a kidney transplant or something.
In short, it's NOT all about you, Blue Sweater and Idiot Couple Making Out. Turn off your cell phone and keep your tongues to yourself, or risk really loud huffs and a petite redhead kicking your shins in the parking lot after the show is over. I mean it.
Thanks so much,
Carrie Leigh
