Pretty well everyone has been to, or been forced into a theatre at one time or another. And often times there is some dork in that theatre that does something highly annoying, interruptive and distracting. And often times, that dork is Yours Truly.
And I don’t just mean a play-acting theatre type theatre. It can be a movie theatre or even an operating theatre. No, scratch that last one, we want no dorks at all in a hospital operating theatre.
But if you’ve braved the crowds and the lineups and the wallet busting prices and gone to a movie lately, you may have noticed the theatre announcements before the show that warn you not to be a “Tommy Texter” – which means “do not use your phone during the show.” Or don’t ever be a “Sally Soundtrack” – a person who talks incessantly throughout the movie. Or a “Harvey Hogger” who saves a whole row of seats for his friends. These helpful admonitions are usually right after eight or nine Mazda commercials and these admonitions are, of course, ignored by the people who happen to be sitting right beside you, in front of you, and directly behind you.
Take “Suzy Seatkicker” for example. Old Suzy always sits right behind me. Once the Seatkicker was so vigorous she spilled my five gallon pail of Coke all over my pants.
But play-acting type theatres are even more sensitive to random patron annoyance. And being in the audience during a production – especially a quiet, sensitive, heavy-duty emotional drama is even more susceptible to random dorkism. Part of the experience of most live theatre is the tension in the room, precisely because morons like me get nervous when the room gets quiet and I know that on pain of death, I cannot should not and will not make a sound, move an inch or bust out a sneeze (or worse, some other bodily blast if you get my drift). And that, of course, is exactly when somebody like me lets her rip.
Or, if you are like me you can find other more creative ways to accidentally and involuntarily disrupt the proceedings, distract the actors on stage and raise the intense collective ire of fellow audience members.
Once, the Better Half and I went to a spooky play. It was in a local converted theatre space – an old mattress store I believe, and the seats consisted of metal bleachers rising 10 or 15 rows. The stage was fairly close in the sense that the front row audience could pretty much reach out and touch (or trip) the actors, so the B.H., knowing me too well, led us up to one of the back rows at the top, as far away as possible from the stage. She should have made me sit in the car.
I can tell the entire tale with one word: Smarties. OK, so I like snacks during a show – who doesn’t? But the combination of a small theatre, metal bleachers, silent dramatic moments, a box of Smarties and me is clearly a recipe for disaster.
And sure enough, with impressive but completely imperfect timing in the darkness with only moonlight and mood on the stage just as the actors are sneaking up on each other I went to take one Smartie (preferably a red one) and well, you know how easy it is to dump an entire box of Smarties down the metal stairs in a theatre. Right?
Let’s just say I kind of destroyed the evening with a few candies. So believe me, don’t be a Sammy Smartie Spiller next time you go to a theatre.
Harley Hay is a writer and filmmaker in Red Deer.