Crying Babies, Vomiting and Phones: The Worst Behavior in Concert Venues When they started changing the diaper, I completely passed out
Photo of a fairly empty multiplex outside of Anchorage, Alaska, a week or two after M. Night Shyamalan's SIGNS was released. My two brothers and I sat in the back. A family came in with a screaming baby, who started clinging to the row right in front of us, and there were many empty seats between them. The phones soon disappeared and remained far away in the film.
But when they started to change the diaper halfway through, in front of everyone, we really got confused and moved as far away as possible. I'm a little hurt by the memory of how they stuffed the dirty film under the seat and left it there before they discarded the film and drove away. I feel like it was at this point that everything went downhill for Shyamalan. Tim Robey
I stole my neighbor's cell phone
At my prom in 2018, I was captivated by Andras Schiff's extraordinary performance of Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 5, but my thoughts were interrupted by my neighbor who was trying to book tickets to Kuala Lumpur on his phone. Unsatisfied with the BA site, he moved on to Expedia, SkyScanner, and lastminute.com, each of which was buffering for what seemed like hours.
Finally, I snatched the phone from his hands and he looked at me as if I had just stolen one of his children and was about to sell them into slavery. “Intermission!” I said in a theatrical whisper that probably irritated everyone else more than my silent neighbor. Later I duly returned it and the man gave me another dirty look. He did not return for Beethoven's 7th. Ben Lawrence
We had to ask someone to stop breathing
I watched Leopoldstadt in the West End with a small group of friends. The evening was deeply touching and painful, a reminder of how complex and cruel humanity can be. Tom Stoppard's Tony Award-winning play about the Holocaust was also worthy.
After the curtain went up, we noticed a low creaky sound that interrupted the drama every 10 seconds or so. It was coming from a row behind us, more specifically from the nasal passages of a man in a Doctor Who T-shirt. They shared a steal. The man seemed to snore when he was awake. During a break, my group called a conference in a bar to decide what to do next. “Okay, do we all agree that this person has no health issues and instead is just breathing loudly and inattentively?” was the heart of the risky business. We had an agreement.
Returning to their seats, the bravest in our group (not me; never me) turned around and declared: “Sorry sir, I hate to say this, but is it possible for you to stop breathing altogether for the second half? It's just… it's like listening to a copy saw and it ruins the night for everyone.» The eavesdroppers clapped. It was both so British and polite, and at the same time, in fact, it was a request to the man to just die. And so the criminal looked confused, just nodded and returned to his program. In the second half we had a golden silence. I often think about him. Guy Kelly
One person seems to like Guardians of the Galaxy too much
Midway through the screening of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 my teenage daughter turned to me with a look of horror on her face and pointed to the middle of our row. Our local cinema is good; it has comfy seats, people who bring you food, and an employee whose job it is to get up before every movie to remind everyone to turn off their phones, shut up, and behave. So this is not where you would expect to see the debauchery I am about to describe.
A couple of empty seats away from us sat a lone middle-aged man who seemed to be enjoying Marvel's work too much. With pursed lips and a forward gaze, the man's left hand moved violently up and down. Because of those comfortable seats and high armrests, we couldn't see what his hand was doing; but God help us, it wasn't hard to imagine.
“You have to say something,” the teenager whispered. I glanced at the screen and saw what appeared to be an alien goat serving drinks to titled Guardians; it was hard to understand how even the biggest pervert in the world could get an erotic charge from this. And yet he was in a furious pursuit of gold. I had to say something.
«You can't do that here!» I blurted out pathetically.
He looked at me questioningly, but continued to have fun. “You need to get outside,” I commanded, as if such a digression was more acceptable in the lobby. Then it dawned on him, and his hand darted into view, still vigorously moving up and down. «Tennis Injury!» He said. «Played this morning!»
“Oh God, so sorry,” I muttered (about 12 times), and it quickly became impossible to tell which of us wanted to die more. Ross Jones
Another concert goer was sick of me
A Divine Comedy concert in a gritty and long-ruined Cork City venue promised an up-close encounter with one of modern pop's great romantics. Unfortunately, my main memory of him is not Neil Hannon, but a random concert goer who walked up to me, shrugged, and then vomited on my freshly ironed Joy Division T-shirt.
Surprised, I yelled out words like «you just barked at me.» Unperturbed, he smiled sympathetically, patted my shoulder, and slipped into the crowd, a puke-puking ghost in the night.
Rushing to the toilet, I unsuccessfully tried to erase the worst of the damage. For the rest of the evening, I attracted almost as much attention as Hannon, with other patrons giving me glances of pity and contempt. I was poor Puke Billy, unable to swallow lunch for a 60 minute gig. Years later, the random hipster threw up on me again, this time right in «Yeah Yeah Yeahs». He apologized and disappeared. Fingers crossed, lightning won't strike Taylor Swift three times next summer. Ed Cumming
I was a criminal myself
As someone who can be annoyed by loud tardiness or sudden departures, it was both humiliating and instructive to find yourself the dumbest guy in the room. The setting was Pleasance Courtyard, shortly before the end of the 2004 Edinburgh Festival, and Chris Addison was on stage, slightly rattling through thousands of years of «civilization» in his set.
In my defense, I've just landed after a confusing month as the new dad, but there really was no excuse for rushing to the other in a panic, colliding with the show, and dragging myself in the wrong direction before getting stuck in one side. auditorium. I received a reprimand from the stage from an understandably irritated comedian who, using a four-letter expletive to denounce me, indicated that I ruined the preparation for his big punch line. Later I interviewed him, but I couldn't help but tell him about it. I remain depressed. Dominic Cavendish
I was threatened with a blow to the head
I made the mistake of taking my daughter to see Mamma Mia for her eighth birthday. This was a mistake on two counts. First, the stage version of Mamma Mia turned out to be riddled with sexual innuendos totally out of place for young minds. Secondly, I didn't realize that Mamma Mia was populated by bachelorette parties, even on a Saturday night.
One of these groups, sitting behind us, got so drunk that they did not notice that they were in the theater. Their conversation continued throughout the performance, which meant they had to scream during the musical numbers. At one point I complained with exquisite politeness, but was told that if I interrupted them again, I would get hit on the head. I gave up after that. Serena Davis
I still hate the man who hummed and beat the rhythm at a classical music concert
The memory that still makes me feel murderous is a performance a few decades ago at the Royal Festival Hall. I don't remember the play, but I do remember that it ended with some kind of otherworldly silence that you really want to enjoy. And I remember the blockhead was sitting two seats away from me. He defiantly followed the full-length score, turning the pages with an audible «whistle» and humming to himself. In exciting moments, he was even ahead of his time. At the end, there was silence for a split second before he shouted «Bravo» in a «Hurrah Henry» voice. Yes, I know, he was just showing his love for music. But I still hate him. Ivan Hewitt
My friend was an annoying theater companion
My dear friend Christina—one of the most intelligent people I have ever met, now sadly deceased—was a passionate theatergoer and always insisted on paying for tickets. But I was afraid to be her companion for two reasons. One was her infuriating habit of curling up in the foyer one nanosecond before the curtain went up; secondly, her need to provide you with a quick whisper of critique and commentary on what's going on on stage, punctuated by chuckles and derision and relentless, even if moments of high drama. The worst thing was that I could very rarely hear what she was saying and there was simply no way to silence her. So I just nodded all the time, no doubt much to the annoyance of my neighbors. Rupert Christiansen
The lady next to me was watching the Wimbledon final.
It was a performance of Don Juan in Soho at the Wyndham's Theater in 2017 starring David Tennant. Before the curtain went up, I was chatting with the woman next to me, who was far more exhausted from the tennis match played by Roger Federer and which she was watching on her phone.
To my dismay, when the game began, she continued to watch the match and did so throughout the first half, putting her phone away only for intermission. Obviously, drinking was more important than watching Federer, but not the game itself. I never said anything, but I always thought of the thousands of people who would kill to be in this woman's place. Claire Alfrey
What embarrassing encounters with other viewers do you remember? Let us know in the comments below
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