All the World Might Be a Stage (but it more than likely isn't playing something I want to see)

That's the bad thing about plays; you usually can't walk out of them without getting noticed. In movie theatres, which are often designed for people to come and go, one cannot disturb the performance, save blocking another's view for a few moments. After all, it's actors are merely projections. Also, while live theatre generally limits bathroom and concession stand use to the intermission, coming and going during a film does not carry the same stigma that the same type of movement would in a theatrical performance. In other words, should things turn sour on the big screen, one can leave gracefully. It is usually not so in theatre.
I seem to have been having some bad luck with plays lately. All of the one's I've seen in New York this year have taken, at some point or another, that aforementioned sour turn. And no, none of the three had an intermission. These were a mixture of plays: two being Fordham productions, and the other, an off-Broadway show. From gratuitous and sexualized murder scenes, beyond-bawdy comic songs, and insanity coupled with incest, these plays left you with a bit of a sour taste in your mouth (the latter two plays were not nearly as bad as the first, which in addition to being the most unsavory, was poorly written and weakly directed).
I wish I could have walked out on them, or not have gone in the first place. (Thankfully all three plays together cost roughly $25.00, which in New York, is a steal!) However, one cannot always look into the exact details of the show before attending. I guess I will try to be much more cautious in the future, or at the very least sit near the aisle to make a speedy and unobtrusive exit.