Can you think of the last time you went to a movie, concert or restaurant and got to enjoy the show, music or meal — and your companions — without disruption from at least one neighboring person or party?
I cannot. Here are some recent experiences. …
There was the play, written by a certain dark-witted playwright whose humor certainly calls for enjoyment including laughter. But does it really call for the theatergoer who lets out a resounding Ha! accompanied by an equally resounding single clap every single time? And whose point-proving appreciation (See, everyone? I get the edgy jokes!) overlaps the next line of dialogue … every single time?
As annoying as that experience was — enough that I left the theater during intermission — at least the playgoer was there to take in a play. I can think of countless outings where the people around us seemed to wish as deeply as I did that they were somewhere else.
There was the movie lounge, where you can order and receive food and drink during show time, and yes, I realize such a setup invites people to talk and get drunk during movies. But does it really invite a girls night out? Complete with everyone in the party getting tipsy and giggly and loud, but with the added advantage of a movie to talk noisily over and about while people not in the group struggle to simply view a film over a craft beer?
There was the concert in a vintage theater with tiny, crowded seats and the drunken couple who sat directly in front of us. Well, “sat” is a broad term for all those moments when they weren’t climbing over people to go to the bathroom, return with two drinks each, and go back for more drinks and/or more potty runs. While “sitting,” they constantly made sure no one missed their seat-dancing or their vocal harmonies, going so far as to tap on the shoulders of the people in front of them or twist around to demand eye contact with the people behind them in order to assure us all that they were just having fun.
There was the lunch at a moderately priced restaurant that serves wine and uses cloth napkins, and the neighboring table with a couple of 10-year-olds allowed to chase each other back and forth in the path along our table. … The dinner at a pizza patio where the two mothers blissfully ignored their two children as they run around, climbed a tree and hollered at each other, next to our table. … The breakfast place where the party of nine included three daughters who eventually tired of the dolls they brought and decided to run around the restaurant calling to each other while the six adults got free babysitting.
We recently went on a long weekend to Kansas City and had similar experiences almost everywhere we went. The one that stands out is the concert, though.
We had tickets to a standing area on the fifth floor of a beautiful theater, and the only way to view the stage was by standing at the railing. As luck would have it, we stood next to a group of chatty people who leaned back against the railing — yes, literally keeping their backs to the stage — and did not turn around when the show began. They continued to carry on a conversation, nonstop. For the first half-hour, we kept giving them looks, to no avail. The sound system was quite muddy, so even in scant pauses between chatter we couldn’t hear the artists singing softly.
Finally I couldn’t take it anymore and turned around to face the most talkative one. I caught his eye immediately and said something like, “Dude, we paid to listen to this concert. Would you just let up and let us hear it?” I gave him one last glare and turned around, cupping my ears to hear the show. Try as I might to simmer down, I had one angry, recurring thought: Why would anyone buy tickets to a concert and then not watch it? If I wanted to spend two hours talking with my friends, I wouldn’t pay admission and talk over a live show!
A few minutes later, the man tapped us on the arm and handed us two tickets to seats at that very concert. “Guys, I’m really sorry,” he said. “Please take these, they’re on the second floor. Enjoy the show.”
Wow! What a great way to apologize! We hurried down to the second floor and enjoyed the remainder of the show immensely.
But the rest of the weekend was more like the concert pre-apology: The restaurants, the lovely night spot where we saw a jazz duo, the art museum — drunks, loudmouths and unattended children intruded on our enjoyment everywhere we went.
The fellow who apologized with those concert tickets might have had an expensive awakening, and I’d bet he thinks twice the next time he wants to talk over a show. But we were lucky he was capable of that awakening. Most of the time I don’t feel safe confronting a disruptive person or parent, or even casting a dirty look.
Wanda Freeman 