Footloose was a glorious musical.  The kids were super and the sets were great.  The announcements had been made, including the one about turning off all cell phones.

I was more than ready to watch.  My daughter was in it.

The house lights dimmed.  The orchestra began playing whatever it is they play before the show actually starts; the preamble, or something like that.  The stage lights came on and so did the lights on the cell phone owned by the guy sitting next to me.  “Good. He’s turning it off.”  I thought, “Better late than never, dude!” 

The director did say cell phones would interfere with the microphones.  “Why shouldn’t they?” I mused.  “They interfere with everything else in our lives.”  But not tonight; tonight would be me and my family, enjoying a lovely musical.  So I sort of slid down in my seat, relaxing, anticipating my daughter’s entrance.  The guy next to me started sending text messages!

“Ok,” I thought.  He’s telling whoever it is in Stinkhead, Alaska that he can’t chat right now because there’s a great show on, and the guy sitting next to him has a daughter who’s in it, so he’ll talk to them after the musical is finished.  I looked back at the stage, with greater anticipation.

The blue light blinked on my neighbor’s cell phone.  In a darkened auditorium, right next to me, it looked like an emergency beacon.  Involuntarily, I glanced at his phone.  It’s hard not to when it’s the only light for about 30 or 40 seats and rows in every direction.  I muttered, “Whoever you are in Stinkhead, go back to your ice jam. We’re having a musical here.”  Mr. Text-O-Rama sent a message back, and then started another one.  I’m trying to watch the show, but this guy’s cell phone kept lighting up like it’s on fire.  It wasn’t, but I was, and thinking, “Boy, you better be doing emergency brain surgery by phone or you’re an idiot!”

“What’s this guy thinking?”  I wondered.  “And where’s he from, that he doesn’t understand basic instructions in English?”  But what’s not to understand about, “Cell phones in musical – BAD!  Turn bad cell phone – OFF!”  Maybe he really didn’t understand English.  But then, why was he sitting in a room where people were going to be singing, speaking, and dancing in English, with the chance that some flaming dolt would have his phone turned on, and it would interfere with the sound?  I guessed that if the sound cut out and you were already experiencing difficulty with English comprehension, it wouldn’t help any to hear something that sounded like, “Almo…par……dse, we’re knock…o…heavs…or.”  I could be wrong though.

But Mr. Ju-Ju-Be brain kept right on texting merrily away, oblivious to anyone else being distracted.  He must have sensed our icy, Orca killer whale stares, because he did try to hide his cell phone under his program.  Either that or he was trying to see when it was time to applaud.  That’s because, when we all applauded at a really good part, he did too; except I noticed it seemed kind of hard for him while holding a brightly-lit cell phone.  So he slapped his knee with his free hand, even though he had no clue what was going on.

I leaned over and whispered, “Please turn it off.”  But he didn’t.  I think it was the English comprehension gap again.  Or he might just have been a guy from Stinkead, and unable to comprehend.

Still, it was a great show.  And that was only Friday night!

Questions or comments
Email Frank at:
fparrish@zoominternet.net