Clapping in unison. In Israel, there is this invisible metronome that forces every single audience member to clap at the exact same frequency: 160 BPM (172 if the musicians are truly outstanding).
50% of the audience falling asleep. "I was just shutting my eyes so that I could heighten my aural senses"...sure.
Coughing fits between movements. The baton is still up, the musicians are silent–the perfect setting for an impromptu, espressivo loogie-hocking interlude.
Scooters. Rumor has it that they're thrown in as a freebie when you purchase season tickets. Must be 18 or older to call...
Egg salad sandwiches. On plain white bread, never toasted, never tasty.
Chatter, up 'til the very first upbeat. Why stop talking now? It's not like the musicians need to focus or anything.
The odd black-tie sporter. There's always that one couple who has dressed to impress. Although casual/comfort is the dress code for any Israeli event–from work to weddings–he spent hours folding his pocket square into a fan, while she dug through her jewelry box for those antique pearl earrings her great grandmother gave to her.
Mendelssohn. He was a good Jewish boy after all.
Ringtones. Ironically matching the sonata being played. Not only that, the cell phone culprits tend to answer their phones too, proceeding to talk as if no one else is there.
A very sad happy hour. Don't bother coming early to get trashed on overpriced wine simply labeled: "Red." Many smaller conservatories sing odes to tea and coffee cantatas.
An early bedtime. No complaints there, Mahler can really take it out of you.
Eager for more? Check out the best classical music venues across Israel.