More and more, I see shows described as “intermissionless,” and I hear the rattle of leg irons.
It isn’t that I’m incapable of “holding it in.” It isn’t that I’m likely to pull a Costanza and trample any senior blocking the aisle to make a beeline to the bathroom while the cast takes its bow.
Oh, sorry. Drifted off there. But don’t worry: There’s lots more. We can’t wait for it. Really. We’ll just nip out to the lobby first for a second, and —
Exit Ramp Closed [James Wolcott’s Blog/VF.com]