A few months ago, I got a Facebook invite: BEN FOLDS COMING TO CHAIFETZ. Instant giddiness. I’ve been listening to Sir Folds for years. The man takes to a piano like Liberace, sans sparkly jump suits. His lyrics – hilarious, touching and intense.

I’ve never seen him live before. So, imagine how I felt when he began and I could barely hear a word he was saying. Did the crowd acknowledge that there was someone on stage, under lights, singing? Nope. The airheads around me didn’t break stride from their numbingly droll conversations. I was near some shrieking harpies yelling over his performance, discussing which bar they were going to later.

I was embarrassed to be in this audience. Yes, audience – this was a performance, not a basketball rally. It’s as bad as students who come to Saint Louis University Theatre and text, or laugh at drama because they’re too dense to understand Shakespeare or Greek tragedy.

Still, I got butterflies when Ben played each genius piece, and joined in the communal yelling of lyrics, but it was difficult to enjoy. The evidence of de-evolution around me was staggering. I was shoved by either some plastic cup-toting meathead, or a Bumpit-hair styled leggings-as-pants girl spilling Bud Light on me as she barreled past. I shared a moment with some of the real fans, collectively glaring at the harpies.

I’m not “Anti-Billiken,” but I’m about to graduate and have kept my mouth shut long enough. The lack of respect for the arts at SLU is vile. Live performance is ridiculously hard. It takes time, discipline and overcoming stage fright to put yourself on display. So, next time you are at any performance, show respect. Don’t like it? Leave. You don’t deserve to watch.

–Marcy Wiegert