Imagine this.

It's opening night. You hear it's a sold out house. You dress up sweet and sharp. You arrive at the theatre, wish your fellow production team members many broken legs, hand the usher your ticket, and take your seats. But it's about 15 minutes to go and the theatre is still a little empty. You scratch your head, read the program, check out the awesome dramaturgy section, and repeat. 10 minutes to go and the theatre is still a little empty.

Finally, they start to pour in.

College boys. Dressed in athletic shorts, logo t-shirts, hell even some backwards baseball caps. Once again, you're scratching your head. You almost ask them if they got lost on their way to the gym. Then word begins to spread: they were required to come see the show for a class. They're not here by choice. Ah. Things make sense now. You cross your fingers, hoping that they'll be respectful (not talking, not playing on their cell phone, etc.).

Well, it's nice to have a dream.

If this sounds like a situation you've recently encountered, you very well may have been sitting with me last week when I attended the opening night performance of a production I recently served on the dramaturgy team for.

Not only were these boys late (Look, I get it. No one is ever on time. Things happen. But when we have to hold the house for reasons other than an extremely long line at the box office, I get antsy), but they were rude. Constantly talking during the show, mimicking the things happening onstage, complaining that they didn't understand the show, etc.

This is not a sporting event where you can talk at a normal volume while the action is taking place. It is live theatre. You are here to watch, or at the very least, be quiet. And hey, don't be on your cellphone. Oh? You didn't hear the announcement at the beginning of the show telling you to turn off all electronic devices? Maybe it's because you were talking straight through it.

About three or four scenes into the first act of the show, a boy behind me let out an exasperated sigh, whining to his friends that "he didn't understand a *bleeping* thing that was going on".

Well, I do apologize Frat Boy Frank. But sometimes art isn't going to make sense.

Moving on.

Remember that thing about not being on your cellphone? Halfway through the first act, a text tone went off.

And then again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

AND AGAIN.

SIX. TIMES.

Over a period of 30 seconds. I could feel my blood boiling as I sat there, trying to enjoy the hard work of everyone finally paying off. By the time the first act was over, I could hardly recall anything that had happened because I was consistently being taken out of the moment by the people around me.

I thought maybe the second act would be better. I mean, half of the frat boys had booked it during intermission. They had their playbill to take to their professor for credit. Why else stay?

I guess the show must have been somewhat intriguing, because the boys seated directly behind me decided to stay. The second of this specific show was when it really started to hit the fan. In one of the climactic scenes, a female character is forced into an aggressive kiss by a male character. It's unsettling watching this abuse happen onstage, but what was even more unsettling was hearing the boys behind me react to it.

They were actually cheering the boy on. Maybe they didn't understand that it was supposed to be sexual violence.

God, I really hope that was the case.

The scene onstage resulted in the girl attempting to break free from her aggressor; the boy ultimately gained the upper hand and killed his victim.

More cheers erupted from the boys behind us. And the boys that weren't paying attention to what was going on? Oh, they were on their cell phones.

Now, before you say, "You're generalizing. Not all boys are like this. You're just stereotyping...", I have this to say: last fall, I directed a production of "The Great Gatsby". We had an onstage suicide (the character George Wilson kills himself after murdering the titular Gatsby). During our school performance matinee, a chorus of cheers and laughter erupted from a section of the theatre after Wilson shot himself. And oh yeah, they were teenage boys.

Two separate situations.

Exactly the same reaction.

And before ANYONE says "boys will be boys" or some shit like that, I'm going to politely ask you to shut up.

This is the problem in our society: people are so desensitized to issues like this. They find it humorous when a woman is depicted being sexually abused or when a man shoots himself. I was absolutely disgusted by how unsympathetic these boys in both situations were. They seriously think it's appropriate to laugh at stuff like this?

Maybe I'm overstepping by saying this next bit, but I'm going to say it anyway: both set of boys in each situation were white males with privileged lifestyles. Interesting. Maybe there's a correlation here...?

But what do I know?

To summarize, we must do better. Men, we must do better. Have we lost all traces of empathy? Are we so caught up in attempting to maintain every scrap of masculinity that we can't bring ourself to enjoy the arts? I long for a time where people can go see live theatre (and not because a course requires them to) and be moved to think and make change.

The show I was a part of was a conversation piece. It encouraged the audience to think outside of their personal bubble. That level of thinking and concentration can only be achieved if you get off your cellphone and focus on the art in front of you.

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Overall, opening night was an amazing experience. I was so happy to be a part of my first college production, even if it was in a very small capacity. I just wish that certain things (and certain audience members) would not have interfered with my experience as much as they did.

Why have we gotten to a point in our society where we've lost not only basic theatre etiquette, but traces of actual humanity and empathy? And why is it always this specific group of individuals that seem to be the least empathetic?

No one is forcing you to come to the theater. But when you do, please be respectful of the practices and etiquette expected of you. To some people, theatre is important. It's their livelihood. Don't make fun of that.

So, gentlemen, allow me to use an analogy that you might understand: the ball is in your court.

Do better.