I have written lots of public-service columns over the years trying to help readers keep up with the ever-evolving rules of proper theater etiquette. After all, if we want to welcome all people to the theater (and we do!), we have to embrace that not everyone is familiar with long-accepted behavior norms.

Over time, many of the stodgiest old strictures have given way to more permissive codes of conduct to make newer audiences feel more comfortable at the theater. You can wear jeans. Take a drink to your seat. You can even be like the 10-year-old kid who turned and puked into my lap during the national touring production of “Shrek.” (Everyone’s a critic. But at least she was being honest.)

Still, some rules of etiquette remain timeless. Like, for example: “Turn off your cell phones.” And: “If your cell phone rings during a performance, it’s OK. Truly. Just turn it off as quickly as you can. But under no circumstances should you answer it and begin a conversation!”

I swear to God — I once sat behind a woman who answered her ringing phone. Here’s the half of the convo we all could hear: “Oh, hi! Wait, what? Hey, I’m actually watching a play right now, so you’ll have to speak up … No, it isn’t very good. The story is contrived and the acting is wooden. The movie was way better. … No, I am not going to walk out on it – the tickets were $65!” (Again, everyone’s a critic. But at least she, too, was being honest.) 

A favorite anecdote goes back to London circa 2005. When a woman’s cellphone went off for a third time, actor Richard Griffiths (you know him as Harry Potter’s Uncle Vernon) stopped the play mid-scene and told the woman to get out. “The 750 people here would be fully justified in suing you for ruining their afternoon!” Griffiths roiled. (Say what you will about the Brits, but no one’s better at snotty admonitions. Griffiths got a standing ovation.)

Still, it just never … ever …  would have occurred to me until recent tragic events that this next little pearl of wisdom might ever need mention in any discussion of proper theater etiquette: “No acts of … oh, how shall we say it … ‘lewd physical intimacy’ with a man you say you barely know while sitting in a sold-out theater alongside 2,800 of your closest strangers – especially with a camera on the wall recording everything.”

You’d like to believe some things go without saying. But … well, here we are. We have a new No. 1 – with a bullet. “Don’t text during the performance”? Pshaw. That’s so 2022.

Listen, when my phone started to blow up with the news that Colorado Rep. Lauren Boebert had gotten herself kicked out of the national touring production of “Beetlejuice” during its Sept. 10 performance at the Buell Theatre, the only part of the story that surprised me was that Boebert was attending a musical in the first place. Musicals are where actors play dress-up and act like witches … and ghosts … and Mormons. And a lot of them are, you know … (whispering) … progressives!

Boebert, to put it mildly, has not been a friend to the arts community. She has cosponsored multiple failed amendments that would eliminate federal spending on the National Endowment for the Arts, for starters.

Check that. I was surprised when it later came out that Boebert’s date, Quinn Gallagher, owns a bar in Aspen that hosts drag shows. Boebert once said on KOA of drag queens who host storytimes for kids: “We don’t need 6-year-old children putting dollar bills in the thongs of grown men shaking and twerking in front of children … that is child abuse.”

But here they were. The Seriously Odd Couple at “Beetlejuice.”

According to published reporting, Boebert’s bad “Beetlejuice” conduct drew four separate patron complaints for a range of crude behaviors. Now, my parents taught me that everyone makes mistakes, and that everything is a teachable moment. So, perhaps there is something to be learned here from a friendly refresher of Theater Etiquette 101, using Boebert’s missteps as our guide:

• Do not record any performance with photos or video. Check.

• No disruptive behavior of any kind. Check.

• Do not ignore requests to quiet down. Check.

• No vaping at your seat. Especially when the woman sitting behind you asking you to stop is pregnant. Check.

• When the pregnant woman sitting behind you asks you to stop vaping, do not call her “a sad and miserable person.” Check.

• Unless explicitly encouraged otherwise, do not sing along during the performance. You might recall that, in an effort to get ahead of the developing scandal, Boebert Tweeted out the following morning: “I plead guilty to laughing and singing too loud!”

Points of order: 1. That would be “loudly.” And 2. No one in the history of the theater has ever been kicked out simply “for laughing and singing too loud(ly).” Unless maybe if you were laughing and singing at a performance of a dark drama like “Buried Child” or “Agnes of God.” Now THAT will get you kicked out.

Boebert is by no means alone in this particular affront. I once got to hear the rafter- and heart-shattering solo song “The Impossible Dream” in stereo. Meaning, as the “Man of La Mancha” staple was simultaneously being sung by an actor on the stage – and by the irrepressible usher seated next to me. And just last week, a woman seated behind me at the DCPA Theatre Company’s “A Little Night Music” joined in full throttle with the actor singing the quiet, intimate ballad “Send In the Clowns” from the stage. Let’s just say one had better pitch than the other.

In general, just follow the (silence is) golden rule, and you can’t go wrong. For example, should you decide to attend BDT Stage’s farewell production of “Fiddler on the Roof” (running through Jan. 13), try to keep in mind that “If I Were a Rich Man” was not written to be performed in two-part harmony. No one in your general vicinity paid $70 to hear you sing along. Unless you’ve auditioned – and won a part in the show – stick to singing in the shower.

if you are attending a rowdy musical like “Beetlejuice” or the Arvada Center’s “Beautiful: The Carole King Musical” (running through Oct. 15), you are encouraged to cheer, and the louder the better – between the songs. And even, once in a great while, during a song. The cast feeds off your energy. But when the performers are trying to tell their story, the theater is not a place for freeform dialogue. You should not be making noise of any kind that is blatantly going against the grain of what the rest of the audience is experiencing and trying to enjoy.

Still, I constantly encounter theatergoing couples who seem to believe that when they sit together giggling and cooing and offering running commentary on a performance, their love alone must create some sort of soundproof force field akin to a hyperbaric chamber. Sorry, lovebirds, but everyone around you can hear your every amorous word.

Other helpful etiquette hints:

• When you arrive at the theater, check your coat. For the love of all that is holy, do not drape it over the back of your chair and into the lap of the person sitting behind you. If that person happens to be a journalist holding a notebook and Flair pen, well, then, you only have yourself to blame for where that ink ends up.

• Of course, you should show up on time. But life (and parking nightmares) happen. People will arrive late. Most will be forgiving as long as you wait until a blackout or the end of a song to take your seat. They might be less forgiving if you then whisper to the more punctual stranger next to you, “So, what did I miss?”

• Don’t take off your shoes and put your bare feet up on the seat. This isn’t your basement.

• Now, to the problematic issue of snacks. Slowly unfurled candy and cough wrappers will drive theatergoers to criminally justifiable behaviors. But no one has to die if you just do all your unwrapping in the minutes leading up to the curtain. What cracks me up (as in drives me insane) is when offenders slowly and methodically unwrap a single piece of candy with the measured pause of a bomb-squad field agent. Trust me, it’s best for all of us if you just make one quick, surgical rip rather than conduct a slow and torturous tear that might last all the way up until curtain call.

(Side note to theaters: If you don’t want audiences to disrupt your performance with crinkly noises, then maybe don’t sell snacks that come in packages that make crinkly noises!)

• Lastly, if you are ultimately asked to leave, the gig is up. Just get up and go. Never refuse to leave. And never, ever say, “Do you know who I am?” Whenever a person says the words, “Do you know who I am?” trust me – we know exactly who you are.

Live theater is at a crossroads. Attendance is way down since the pandemic, and it’s important to foster a new generation of audiences. Theater needs to be seen as casual and fun, or it will die. At the same time, if you are coming out of the basement where you’ve spent most of your time since 2020 to go to the theater, it is important for you to remind yourself that you are leaving the house … so put on some pants.

Hey, I’m just here to help.