The Theater
Anyone who is anyone has experienced the theater in one shape or another. Broadway, Off Broadway, Off Off Broadway, or even a production of “It’s Just Sex” seen at a temple “theater” in Manhattan. (Just a plug for one of my loyal readers). No matter how you choose to see a play, it truly is a memorable experience. It is not the actual show that you will remember, but it is the nonsense that you have to endure with your fellow theater seekers.
For example, at the beginning of each show, there is an announcement that clearly reminds everyone to shut off their phones prior to the show beginning. Do they really have to spell this out? Isn’t it obvious? Apparently they do. I have yet to attend a show, where someone’s phone did not go off. And what makes it worse, is that the culprit can’t hear their own phone ringing, usually because they are hearing impaired, so it rings and rings and rings….. At this point, I have missed 3 lines of the show, as my temper is boiling and can only hear the annoying rings of that phone.
Then of course, we have the people that cannot comprehend that attending a show ON TIME should be a consideration. What individual spends anywhere from $100 to $500 a ticket for a show, and arrives late? Typically these people have the seat in the middle of the row. What they usually do is come down the aisle, get to their desired row, (which is usually mine), analyze the situation, and realize that they should have gone down the other aisle because that is closer to their seat. At this point, I am boiling over even more, no longer watching the play, because I find it more interesting wondering how many people they are going to disturb to get to their seat. One would think this discourteous Butt Head would do this as inconspicuously as possible. Nooooo, they have to whisper the phrase, “excuse me, excuse me, pardon, excuse me, so sorry, that’s my seat, and other ridiculous inconsequential phrases until they make it to their destination. Has anyone ever been in a room where someone is whispering? It doesn’t matter what is going on, your hearing and curious human nature draws you to that whisper as you struggle to hear what they are saying, as opposed to listening to the damn play.
Not only is this an inconvenience, but another one of my dislikes of the theater, is the knee to row ratio. For those of you who may have missed this in 11th grade math, this ratio simply computes the amount of inches between your knees at the sitting position, to the seat in front of you. For those of you who may have not experienced a Manhattan theater, this distance is usually anywhere between 0 and 5 inches, depending on your leg length. Please keep this in mind, as that same Butt Head that came in late is now trying to power his/her/them body down the row, in between your knees and the seat, to get to their final destination. Typically, while they are passing you and intruding in your private space, you no longer have view of the stage because their crotch or ass is now in your face. This all depends on how their body is positioned as they squirm through the row, in the dark, as they step on your feet whispering “excuse me.” I am still up in the air, however, which I prefer looking at, the crotch or ass. I suppose it depends on the individual.
Now, at some point, after all the commotion has subsided, we at last reach the intermission. The time we all are waiting for. Everyone sharing their useless opinions on how the first Act went, acting styles, deliveries and other buzz words to make them appear worldly. Not me. I race to the snack stand while my lovely wife goes to the ladies room, which apparently is on the lower floor and there is only one seat for the entire female population in the theater. Typically it takes her the full time of the intermission to do what needs to be done, as every women in the theater is taking care of business as well, on the one seat. My experience at the snack stand is quite interesting. I usually get 2 bottles of water and sometimes treat myself to a bag of m&m’s. That will be $24.00 sir. Shockingly, I immediately question the server what country the bottled water was imported from. Reluctantly, I pay and feel guilty that I did not tip the person ripping me off.
Back to my seat I go. The lights flicker for the third time, alerting everyone that this is final call and the play is about to begin again in 2 minutes. This is usually known by theater goers, but they also make a brief announcement to enforce the rules. IT MEANS NOTHING to Butt Head. Lights go down, curtain rises, show starts and the next thing you hear is Excuse me, pardon me , that’s my seat , so sorry , excuse me, butt in face, pardon so sorry…………..