Etiquette Lession #1

Live Performances

I feel like my Grammy Jane as I type this, but I’m going to write it anyway …

Nobody knows how to behave anymore.

In any capacity.

What seemingly used to be common knowledge, at least amongst people I know and how and where I grew up, has vanished into thin air like smoke. Poof!

So, I’ve decided to start an etiquette series. Am I an expert in this area? Absolutely not. I’m just irritated, per usj, and I’ve found that these irritations have some common groupings. For the sake of this story and my introductory piece, I’m focusing on live performances, because while not an expert in this area either, I am certainly a frequent attendee.

Mostly, I attend comedy shows at the rate and with the necessity that other people drink water, but the following goes for anything: a concert, a play, a freaking magic show, I don’t care. Live. Performances. Are what we’re talking about here.

And there are basic rules of decorum. In case you are an idiot:

1.       Shut. Up. Like all the way up. Unless you’re at a concert with a skillion other fans singing along with the artist AS ONE DOES, freaking zip it.

I’ve noticed an increasing number of hecklers and/or interrupters at comedy shows recently, and I’m really wondering who told you that you were the exception to the rule? “Like no, no, no one ELSE can talk, but YOU? You are a STAR! Please keep shouting. What you have to say is important!” Right – that never happened. In general, you are:

·         Not funnier than the comedian

·         Not a better dancer than the professional

·         Not a better singer than the artist

So PIPE DOWN, especially with your critiques. If you could do it, you would. You are not a former high school football player who tore their ACL and ALMOST went pro if it weren’t for your trick knee. You are a sedentary audience member who paid a professional (or a person with a ton of practice) to perform for you. Quiet!

2.       Like it or leave. That’s right – those are your only two options. Enjoy yourself. Laugh with the audience. Gasp at the magic. Swoon at the beauty. Not your bag? Go home. Loudly complaining about it not only makes you look bad, it ruins the experience for the performers and other audience members alike.

I was recently at a show where a woman would not SHUT.THE.FUCK.UP. about her very loud distaste for the subject matter to the point that the headliner had to stop the show. Gross.

Here’s the thing: not every topic is going to resonate with you. Don’t like abortion jokes (I’m looking at you, lady)? Go home. Because, in this particular instance, the jokes were literary gold, and you know what’s going to happen if you clearly and audibly don’t like something at a comedy show? The comics are going to become one and exhibit gang mentality, and double down which will give the entirety of the rest of the room sheer joy. It’s actually a magical moment for me. While I hate hecklers, I nearly shudder with orgasm when they’re destroyed, and honestly, I’ve fantasized about taking a few out myself.

Personally, I will never find a joke referencing rape funny nor will I laugh at male comics referring to women as “bitches.” Ever. I don’t care how clever the writing is, it’s not going to do it for me and will inevitably make me nauseous. So, the choice is either for me to leave or tune out for 5 minutes until that idiot exits. EASY PEEZY.

3.       Do not engage unless you are asked to do so. Why are you trying to do so much at a performance, anyway? Again, you paid to be entertained, not work, so act like you’re on vacation. Is the performer doing crowd work? Asking for an assistant? Great! Throw your hand up. Answer the question. Go on stage. Are they telling a story? Singing a song? Performing a trick? In the wise words of Lala Kent, “Disengage bitch!” A professional does not need your help. In fact, you may be making a show umpteen times more difficult for assisting without being asked to do so.

None of these should be difficult to follow. They’re basic rules that everyone should have engrained into their brains at birth. In fact, if you behave like this in my presence, we’ll have a conversation. And if you’re my guest? Bye. You’ll never be invited to shit again.

So, act like it’s 1950 and you’re Grammy Jane’s kid: she was a fervent advocate for the phrase “children should be seen and not heard.” Perhaps this is where my distaste for the youth comes from.

God, I miss her.