A Little Decorum, Please
Over the weekend we went to see “Disenchanted” at a local theater. It is a musical comedy in which Disney princesses sing about how their lives were ruined once Disney got hold of their stories. Basically, they sit around waiting for their prince to show up. Then they married him and sit around the castle all day. BORING.
It was very entertaining and I’m all in favor of having a good time, but the woman sitting directly behind me was close to hysterical, she was laughing so long and hard at … everything. Honestly, I thought she might have a coronary when a stagehand came out to remove a piece of furniture.
They took their seats after we did, so I had no idea what they looked like or how old they were. I suspected that the poor woman hadn’t gotten out of the house in ages.
In addition, she and her husband talked during the performance, probably not at their usual volume, but definitely not whispering. To fill in the few blanks between howling and talking, she was snacking. Something in a very crinkly bag.
I was enjoying the show, but definitely distracted by all the noise behind me. When intermission came, I told my husband to take a quick look around to see where there were empty seats that we could move to.
As soon as the coast was clear, we moved back three rows and further to the side. We still had a great view of the stage, and we also had a great view of the annoying couple when they returned to their seats. Now I was laughing.
They were adorable. I kept thinking of a 1950s farm couple, come to town for Saturday shopping. This might have been enhanced by my sitting through two episodes of “The Andy Griffith Show” last week in a doctor’s waiting room. She was a little plump and wearing an old-style dress with a fitted bodice, gathered skirt, and narrow belt. She was even wearing a little hat. Waiting for Act II to start, she laid her head on his shoulder. Adorable.
And I was totally able to enjoy them and the show. Because her laugh wasn’t nearly as irritating when it was way over there.