As a musical theatre lover and amateur drama enthusiast, I am extremely privileged to have seen dozens of West End shows over the last 15 years. I also love spending my money on watching concerts at amazing venues like the O2 and Wembley. My list includes Take That, Stevie Wonder, Spandau Ballet, Lionel Richie (believe me, these are the least embarrassing ones) and many more. My catalogue of concert tickets is, admittedly, more Smash Hits than NME, but hey, I like what I like!
Now these tickets aren't cheap. It normally costs upwards of 50 quid to see a concert, maybe a bit less for a show, and then you've got to factor in travel costs, eating out, plus merchandise if you want it. It's an investment. A proper night out, with money well spent on great entertainment rather than booze (and the subsequent hangover). Bearing this in mind, there are things that my fellow theatre goers do which I just can't fathom. They fall into the following categories:
The Talkers
Now. We have ALL encountered these people, even if it's only in the cinema. The rude, won't shut up for the ENTIRE show, annoying people. Why are they there!! I mean really... if you want to pay £50 to NOT watch the show... go and stand outside!
My friends and I encountered one such couple at Les Miserables in London this weekend. The speccy girl in front of us (I'm allowed to say that, I wear glasses) would NOT stop talking. Every other minute she leaned across to her boyfriend and made a comment, which kept resulting in what seemed like a full blown conversation. The worst thing was, my poor friend couldn't see a thing every time Little Miss Chatterbox moved her head. The icing on the cake was that, when she didn't have anything to say, they'd have a kiss or a snuggle instead. My blood boils!! In the end, I calmly asked them to stop. "You were much more polite than I would have been," came the comment from next to me. Well, one doesn't like to create a scene...
The Constant Drinkers
This applies more to concerts than theatre, but I always seem to get stuck next to the bloke who will get up and down at LEAST six times during the show to get more beer. Or the woman nominated by her crew to do the Smirnoff Ice run every 20 minutes. Not only is this going to cost these people an arm and a leg, but it means I have to keep getting up (or doing the theatre chair "swivel". Either way, I want to punch them). I feel I should grab them by the arms and try to reason with them: "But you've paid 60 pounds to see this band! Sixty!! And you've just missed three songs!! Why would you do this to yourself! Just WHY?!" Apparently their need to get sozzled out ways any love for the music.
But it also means that most of them won't even remember the concert the next day! When I saw Take That's comeback tour in 2006 (you can't even imagine how excited I was), my ticket was for the standing section. I was stood behind a girl who got SO drunk that, by the end, she couldn't even stand up. She kept falling backwards into me babbling incoherently. Every time, I pushed her forward again and told her friend to hold her up or get her out! It created a massive black mark all over a day that should have been amazing for me. I can only hope that she was sick on the way home and lost her shoes.
The Early Leavers
These are the people that baffle me the most. I gawp in amazement when it happens at EVERY concert I go to. It's like a mystery I will seemingly never solve.
Every band or singer will pretend to finish their show, wait for the massive applause to build to a crescendo, then come back on again for an encore. This usually comprises two or three of their absolute best and most spectacular songs, a shiny new costume and a big explosion of glitter. In a nutshell, you'd be mad to miss it. But there are a strange breed of creature whose little legs can't carry them out of that venue fast enough just as soon as the last note has finished on the pre-encore song. They jump up and leg it out of there like their life depends on it.
Now don't get me wrong. I don't enjoy the slow shuffle you have to suffer to get out of the arena. The queue to get into the tube station, the crush to get on a train and the long journey home. Or perhaps having to sit in the car park for 20 minutes waiting to get out. But. It is ONE NIGHT of your life. That's it. One little night when you might be that extra bit tired because you got home extra late. Who cares!! (I'll say it again) You just paid loads of money to come here!! Is it really worth trying to get out before "the rush"?? Why don't you just chill the heck out, throw your hands in the air and shout proudly "I travelled quite far to come here, and it cost me loads, plus I love this band, otherwise I wouldn't have come! SO I'M GOING TO STAY TIL THE END!! Yeah!" Just a suggestion.
And there you have it. My theatre-related gripes. I'm off to see Take That again this summer. I'll update you afterwards!
Monday, 23 May 2011
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
Did I miss a memo about mobile phones?
Ah, the age of the mobile phone. I remember getting my first one. I was 16 years old and it was, of course, a trusty old you-can-drop-it-as-many-times-as-you-like-and-it'll-still-work Nokia. One of those ones with changeable covers and a function where you could create your own ring tone by pressing the keys to play different notes. And the game of Snake! Oh the hours I wasted playing that. I'll never get them back you know.
But the point is, I was thrilled. Because now, not only could I ring my friends when I was, like, out of the house and stuff, but I could TEXT them too! A little thrill of excitement would surge through me when I heard that familiar beep heralding a new message. Who was it? Was it that guy I fancied? Had he put a kiss at the end? If I replied, did he have enough credit to text me back again? (Luckily I never had to worry about my own credit situation as I went straight onto contract. Thanks mum!)
A whole new world had opened up to me. If you met someone new, you could give them your number. (Or miss call them so that it showed up automatically on their phone... how exciting!) Not the house number, or your mum's number, but your very own precious eleven digits. When your mum thought you were upstairs in bed and asleep, you could really still be communicating with people, and she'd never know! (Until she got the bill that is...) And you'd never miss out on gossip again. In short, getting a mobile phone was probably one of the best things that has ever happened in my life. You can judge me and sneer at me all you want but that feeling of inclusiveness was priceless.
Having had two long-term, long-distance relationships in the last seven years, not living with one of my parents since I was 12 and having lived over 200 miles away from home at uni, it reiterates how important mobile communication is for me. It can dampen the pain of having the people I love so far away and a simple call or text from someone can completely change my day. Since the invention of mobile phone cameras and multimedia messaging, I can see something that makes me smile and send it instantly to that friend who popped into my head. For all these things, my mobile phone is, and has always been, precious to me.
But I feel like I might have missed something somewhere. Mine is not the opinion shared by all. In fact, sometimes it is quite the opposite. Without naming names (some of you may be reading this blog!), I have met many people in life who, although they own a mobile phone, almost refuse to be contacted on it. I mean it's like they have it just for the purpose of NOT answering it. They simply just ignore it when you call or text them, and then never ever get back to you. It's as if you trying to reach out to them in a friendly "How are you?" way is really, really rude and how dare you interrupt their day by making their phone vibrate?!
I find this really odd. I mean of course, I'm not completely insensitive. I realise that many situations in life mean you can't answer your phone or ever have it with you. At work, on a date, at a wedding, or simply spending time with your family or your partner, I understand that you aren't going to text me back straight away. I really, really do. But think about it. If you went on holiday for a week, the first thing you would do when you got back to work would be to check your emails and reply to them. You couldn't do it last week, so you're doing it now. Well, erm, why can't you just reply to me when you're finished being busy? It's not much to ask!
If I came up to you in town and said "Hi! How are you? Haven't seen you in ages!", you wouldn't stare blankly past me and walk on (I hope). You'd engage in conversation. Why is it so different when I text you?! This especially bugs me if I have asked an important question I need an answer to, like "We're meeting up tomorrow, I've been trying to get hold of you for three days to find out what time you'd like to meet. TEXT ME BACK!" This happened to me recently... don't get me started.
I once had a conversation with a friend who, although she uses her mobile phone for many things, including business, properly resented the fact that this little device meant she was seen as constantly available to people and that people expect you to reply to them. Well, yeh! That's why we all have mobile phones! If you really hated it that much, you would learn to live without one.
I know that "real life" is far more important than any life we may lead through modern technology, and I'm not so sad as to think all my relationships are based on my text conversations with people. But we have to face facts that it's a mobile world now. And I would also like others to face facts that sometimes, it's just really bloody rude to ignore people. So try not to anymore, eh?
But the point is, I was thrilled. Because now, not only could I ring my friends when I was, like, out of the house and stuff, but I could TEXT them too! A little thrill of excitement would surge through me when I heard that familiar beep heralding a new message. Who was it? Was it that guy I fancied? Had he put a kiss at the end? If I replied, did he have enough credit to text me back again? (Luckily I never had to worry about my own credit situation as I went straight onto contract. Thanks mum!)
A whole new world had opened up to me. If you met someone new, you could give them your number. (Or miss call them so that it showed up automatically on their phone... how exciting!) Not the house number, or your mum's number, but your very own precious eleven digits. When your mum thought you were upstairs in bed and asleep, you could really still be communicating with people, and she'd never know! (Until she got the bill that is...) And you'd never miss out on gossip again. In short, getting a mobile phone was probably one of the best things that has ever happened in my life. You can judge me and sneer at me all you want but that feeling of inclusiveness was priceless.
Having had two long-term, long-distance relationships in the last seven years, not living with one of my parents since I was 12 and having lived over 200 miles away from home at uni, it reiterates how important mobile communication is for me. It can dampen the pain of having the people I love so far away and a simple call or text from someone can completely change my day. Since the invention of mobile phone cameras and multimedia messaging, I can see something that makes me smile and send it instantly to that friend who popped into my head. For all these things, my mobile phone is, and has always been, precious to me.
But I feel like I might have missed something somewhere. Mine is not the opinion shared by all. In fact, sometimes it is quite the opposite. Without naming names (some of you may be reading this blog!), I have met many people in life who, although they own a mobile phone, almost refuse to be contacted on it. I mean it's like they have it just for the purpose of NOT answering it. They simply just ignore it when you call or text them, and then never ever get back to you. It's as if you trying to reach out to them in a friendly "How are you?" way is really, really rude and how dare you interrupt their day by making their phone vibrate?!
I find this really odd. I mean of course, I'm not completely insensitive. I realise that many situations in life mean you can't answer your phone or ever have it with you. At work, on a date, at a wedding, or simply spending time with your family or your partner, I understand that you aren't going to text me back straight away. I really, really do. But think about it. If you went on holiday for a week, the first thing you would do when you got back to work would be to check your emails and reply to them. You couldn't do it last week, so you're doing it now. Well, erm, why can't you just reply to me when you're finished being busy? It's not much to ask!
If I came up to you in town and said "Hi! How are you? Haven't seen you in ages!", you wouldn't stare blankly past me and walk on (I hope). You'd engage in conversation. Why is it so different when I text you?! This especially bugs me if I have asked an important question I need an answer to, like "We're meeting up tomorrow, I've been trying to get hold of you for three days to find out what time you'd like to meet. TEXT ME BACK!" This happened to me recently... don't get me started.
I once had a conversation with a friend who, although she uses her mobile phone for many things, including business, properly resented the fact that this little device meant she was seen as constantly available to people and that people expect you to reply to them. Well, yeh! That's why we all have mobile phones! If you really hated it that much, you would learn to live without one.
I know that "real life" is far more important than any life we may lead through modern technology, and I'm not so sad as to think all my relationships are based on my text conversations with people. But we have to face facts that it's a mobile world now. And I would also like others to face facts that sometimes, it's just really bloody rude to ignore people. So try not to anymore, eh?
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