It’s not like you aren’t warned or as if you haven’t already paid the price, as has everyone around you.

Before every show on Broadway — tickets for which sell for over a hundred bucks a pop — a disembodied voice asks that all cellphones, pagers, beepers and other electronic devices. And yet… well, as my mama used to say, there’s one in every crowd.

And so it was that in the middle of Monday’s nights performance of A Steady Rain, a cell phone went off. Repeatedly. And frankly, full credit must be given to stars Hugh Jackman and Daniel Craig for not themselves going off on the responsible audience member.

It’s worth noting that the unidentified person who caught this moment on their own cell phone doesn’t exactly earn high marks either, seeing as video and audiotaping of all such performances is illegal.

I’ve long argued that cell phones have helped contribute to the downfall of civility in this country. Thanks to them, people can talk to whomever they want wherever they want as loudly as they want, and somehow, this is considered a good thing… even if it means the people around you have to listen to graphic details about your gynecologist appointment or, in this case, be disturbed in the middle of a performance they paid good money to see.

"Silly rabbit! Kicks are for people like you!"

I’d love to ask the person whose phone was ringing (and the person who was illegally taping the performance) one question: What makes you so special? Because that is, of course, what it boils down to: The offending parties made the conscious decision that the rules — of which it would be almost impossible to be ignorant — weren’t meant for them.  Somehow, it’s okay for their ringing to interrupt the performance or the glow from their illegally-recording phone to blind those behind them or for, oh, right, them to be illegally taping the performance to begin with!

Each and every time new laws are passed, you can hear people complaining about how we are “living in a police state.” Maybe what we really need is to live in a teacher state… wherein as you walk into a place where cellphones, pages and beepers are not allowed, they are taken from you and can be reclaimed after the performance.

Of course, you know some fool to whom the rules somehow don’t apply will still manage to sneak theirs in, leave it on and disturb everyone around them. In which case I say we bring them up on stage for a publicly executed, videotaped, posted-on-the-web spanking.

Maybe that’ll teach ‘em. Then again, probably not.

I was hit by a car today.

The driver did a rolling stop through a red light, looking to her left for on-coming traffic as she turned right. Had she looked both ways — you know, the way every mother tells every child to do when crossing a street — she’d hve seen me in the crosswalk. She was at a red light. I had the right of way.

Had the car hit me this hard, serious damage would have been done... to the vehicle.

The best part of the story is that after hitting me — not hard; I was more scared than scarred — she pulled over… and proceeded to yell at me for having gotten in her way.

Seriously.

As a constant pedestrian, I know from first-hand experience that these kind of man-meets-metal throwdowns happen far too often and, for the most part, only avoid turning into tragedy because the person not tooling around in a ton or more of metal is on the alert.

With that in mind, it might be time to draw up a Pedestrian Bill Of Rights.

I propose that pedestrians should have the following rights:

"I know I shouldn't... but I sometimes talk with my mouth full."

Baby's got second-hand butts.

"Ha!" said the pedestrian. "The joke's on you... I needed a shower!"

Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude or put too fine a point on it, but I feel I have to ask: What the HELL are you doing here?

That’s what I wanted to say to a handful of the people surrounding me during what should have been a lovely, relaxing evening last night.

Several hundred people were at the Highline Ballroom to hear the gorgeous song stylings of Katie Melua.

Four or five were there to ruin the experience for everyone else. To them, I say, at least on my own behalf, Mission: Accomplished.

As I sat there with three of my closest friends enjoying the concert, the drunk man standing behind me had a series of increasingly loud conversations. He was asked by me and several others to keep quiet. But of course, he didn’t listen, and things rapidly progressed to the point where another agitated member of my party was ready to take the guy out, physically and literally, and I sought a manager to have the guy kicked out, which he eventually was.

Sadly, this closest resembles my "would you please shut up?" glare.

Then there was the loud, obnoxious, foreign fans.

Why is it that oftentimes, a performer’s biggest fans are the most obnoxious?

In this case, there were two sects. First, there were the photographers, including two young men who spent the entire show taking pictures and then showing them to one another and laughing, giggling, comparing notes loudly. Then there was the group of women who kept screaming out song unwanted song requests and phrases in Russian (which the singer speaks)… and then talking through each number she performed. Two of the women at several points got onto their cell phones to have loud conversations and, when asked if they might take the conversation outside the venue, glared as if they’d been asked to put the phones into their va jay-jay’s.

Topping my "recommended reading list" for all folks attending concerts, movies, etc.

To all of these people I’d like to ask, again: What the hell were you doing there? Why did you feel the need to ruin the evening for people who’d not only bought tickets but then, in many cases — including that of my group — spent several hundred dollars on food and drink – in an attempt to have a pleasant, civilized evening on the town?

What gave YOU the right to ruin OUR evening?

And why, if you intended to spend the night talking or being rowdy, did you not go to a bar as opposed to a showroom where people had obviously and specifically gone to see the performer in question? This was not a rock concert or a piano bar, this was a quiet, simple performance… a woman, her guitar and her piano.

By the end of the evening, one of my companions was mad at me for making a big deal of the situation (although, in my defense, by the time I had the most offensive party removed from the venue, he’d begun flicking water at my head and calling me some rather nasty names) and it’s safe to say that the entire evening was ruined for my entire party.

And that leads me to these quetions:

Have we gotten to the point where one can no longer venture out into society without expecting to have to deal with rude people who don’t give a rat’s ass if they ruin the evening of those around them?

Are the 95 percent of us who want to sit through a movie without someone behind us taking a cell phone call or talking loudly simply expected to sit in (the shattered) silence rather than complain, if only for fear of being physically attacked?

In any case, next time a performer I want to see comes to town, rather than risk spending a small fortune only to have my evening ruined by the rude, crude and socially unacceptable folks of the world, I’ll stay home and listen to the performer’s CD’s.

I serve better drinks at my place anyway.

I went to see a play last night and the woman behind me kept texting. The sound of her fingernails clicking on the keys was really annoying. It really upset me when I realized the person she was texting was sitting two seats away from her! What is wrong with people?

This piece was the funniest, and sadly so true.

The rudeness that the invention of personal cell phones caused (as opposed to “car” phones… remember them?) is uncontrollable. Recently when I took my dad out to dinner a woman sitting many, many, tables over had her cell phone ring. She had to answer, but politely stood up and walked from her dinner companions to be more private. She walked and walked until she was standing just over my shoulder, talking loudly. I was horrified that she thought it was all right, polite even, to walk from her table, but to walk over to another one and annoy those people. My dad,  who is 90% deaf,  motioned that I had a frown on my face. Just then I stood up to tell her we were still in the same lovely, quiet, dining room that she was when seated at her own table, but she snapped her clam shut and toddled off! Everyone looked at me with that “go after her and kick her butt”  look, but I wondered what made them sit in their seats afraid to say something.

Everything about her was loud, from the voice screeching into the cellphone plastered to her ear to the too-tight, brightly-colored outfit she was wearing. 

Everything about her screamed, “Look at me!” 

“Loud is my signature color!”

So of course, I did — as did several others — as she sashayed down the street. But when one passerby allowed their amusement at the woman’s obvious need for attention voice itself in the form of a guffaw, she snapped the cell phone closed, whirled dramatically (as if there were any other way for a creature such as herself to turn) and shouted, “What the hell are you looking at?” 

Perhaps startled into honesty, the accused voyeur simply replied, “Um… you.”

At which point the object of everyone’s attention unleashed her not-so-inner drama queen in an attempt to tongue-lash everyone staring at her. Sadly (for her), it came off more Peg Bundy than Alexis Carrington than I imagine she was going for. 

"Stop trying to make love to me with your eyes!"

Which brings us to this afternoon’s lesson… and it’s a simple one: If you bring attention to yourself, people are going to stare. 

If you wear spandex when a muumuu is a more appropriate fashion choice…

… or walk around with muffin tops that did not come from a bakery…

… or regularly expose your moobs while engaging in PDA’s (Public Displays Of Ablessness)…

… or make the decision to take your wardrobe in a bold, unique direction…

… or don so much bling that sunlight hitting you at just the right angle can recreate the face-melting sequence from Raiders Of The Lost Ark…

… then people are, in fact, going to stare. And assuming you chose to don the wardrobe in question…

… you lose all right to complain about the looks you get. Now, if you happen to be a person who regularly, but accidentally, makes one of these fashion faux-pax, I’d humbly suggest that in the future, you solicit the help of a friend when shopping and/or dressing yourself. 

But for those of you who slip into an outfit five-sizes too small, look into the mirror and — seeing that your backfat has been transformed into mud flaps — say to yourself, “Yup, that’s the look I was going for,” do the rest of us a favor: Don’t even pretend to be surprised — let alone offended — when we stare. 

Because staring is only impolite when it isn’t done by invitation.

You take the good, you take the bad…
You take them both and there you have…
The Facts of Life.

But there were a few things Edna Garrett didn’t teach. Maybe she was too distracted by a young, pre-med George Clooney.

"I'm not a doctor... but dude, these chicks don't care!"

In any case, you’re in luck, because I’m here to fill you in on some of the important lessons that will help guide you through the days ahead. So listen up, kiddies. Especially you, Blair.

* The yellow lines painted down the center of the road arent “suggestions” as to where you should and shouldn’t drive.

* Here’s a little-known rule regarding common courtesy and right of way: If you run a red light and your actions cause us to nearly collide, I’m the one who’s supposed to give you the finger, not vice versa. 

* If you leave your turn signal on for more than half a block, it is my God-given right to alert you to the situation by plowing my car into yours. 

* Turning on your flashers is not the same thing as having Diplomat plates. It doesn’t give you the right to park wherever you want. In the same vein, while having said plates might give you Diplomatic Immunity from prosecution, it in no way, shape or form gives you immunity from us thinking you’re a horse’s ass when you park on the sidewalk or nearly run us off the road.

"I wonder if your car is immune from the effects of tossed eggs?"

* If you saw — and liked — the films Big Momma’s House 2, Basic Instinct 2 or Larry The Cable Guy: Health Inspector, consider your right to complain about the quality of movies released by Hollywood hereby permanently revoked. And while I know this will come as a shock to some of you, but while the folks up on the movie screen would no doubt be grateful for the words of wisdom you offer (“Don’t go in there!”), they can’t hear you. No matter how loudly you shout. We, however, can… and don’t want to. Nor do we want to hear you chatting on your phone during the flick. (And that includes the trailers!) You know those ads asking that you turn off your cellphone and be considerate of others in the theater? This may come as a surprise, but it’s directed at everyone… including you.

"There's some incredibly rude guy staring at me right now. Freak!"

* When you forward an E-mail, there is, contrary to popular opinion, no law against cutting and pasting the missive into a new document instead of making the would-be recipients scroll through the names of every person who ever received it.

* If several of your office mates are going to lunch, don’t ask to tag along. It’s both pathetic and rude. They would have asked if they wanted you to join them. If asked, you will no doubt be told “Sure, that would be great.” But note that the “invitation” comes after a long, awkward pause during which every single one of them is hoping not to be wound up stuck sitting next to you at the table.  

Now while I go confiscate Tootie’s cellphone until class is dismissed, why don’t you fill me in on the rude behavior that drives YOU nuts?

To the incredibly loud guy sitting in starbucks right now who is laughing like a hyenna, burping, having a wildly loud phone conversation and just generally disturbing everyone around him: Thanks for that. Guess given the price of coffee here, we should be grateful for the show!