Stay classy, DC.

The emperor would like you to fix the broadcast. Immediately.

So, last night I headed downtown to the Shakespeare Theater to see a play beamed via satellite from London. About 15 minutes into the play, someone in the theater had a heart attack or something. They stopped the broadcast and about a dozen emergency personnel rushed in and took care of her, and then they announced they'd rewind the play's broadcast a few minutes and start it up again. Well, apparently they didn't know how to rewind it just a few minutes (something simulcast something something...) and they had to re-start it from the beginning. It was only 15 minutes. No big deal, right?

No.

People went nuts. It's amazing how quickly society can completely break down. Now let me just reiterate, this is the National Shakespeare Theater. People are dressed up. The median age is 63. The snack bar sells champagne in little fluted glasses. These are not rowdy people. Unless, of course, you make them sit through the first 15 minutes of a play twice. Then you better just hang on to your sugar-rimmed gingerbread cookies with the frosting portrait of William Shakespeare on the front because things are about to get sloppy.

Little old ladies started booing like spectators at the Roman Colosseum who want to see a gladiator beheaded. Middle aged gentlemen in bow-ties started yelling, "This is the wrong place!" and "Fix it! FIX IIIIIITTTTT!" It was like Lord of the Flies in there. I just kept quiet and scoped out the emergency exits.

That was until, about 10 minutes in, an actor entered wearing only a small pair of underwear. Then the elderly woman sitting behind me said, "Oh wait, this part we do want to see again."

It was pure class.