First and foremost, do NOT call the planetarium and ask if you can come over so we can show you the star you “bought.” First of all, the International Star Registry is, shall we say, barely legal - and they certainly have no official authority to “name” stars. And if you tell us that the star was named in honor of your dear departed great-grandmother, we’ll be placed in the awkward position of either breaking the news to you that the money you spent in memory of your loved one was entirely wasted on a gimmick with no more meaning than a pet rock, or we have to appear understanding and sympathetic to your recent loss by keeping the ugly truth from you - in the process giving silent support to the ISR. In any case, we’d have to gently inform you that the star you were ‘sold’ is undoubtedly far too dim to see with the naked eye, and therefore won’t appear on the dome, but you’re welcome to drop by anyway and we’ll show you the general area if you really want us to. Because we’re nice.
Secondly, during a show we are generally tolerant and understanding with crying or babbling babies for a total of about five minutes. Any longer than that and the problem needs to be addressed outside the theater, thankyouverymuch. And for the love of Pete, please use the exit doors I told you about at the beginning of the show, and not the doors I explicitly told you not to use, you know, the ones that lead directly outside and flood the room with light when you open them?
To the teachers who believe they’re drill sergeants: Relax, willya? The kids are SUPPOSED to have fun here, let them react to the show. A theater full of stone-quiet children is positively spooky, anyway.
And finally, during a live star talk, no matter how bad my jokes are, laugh at one or two of them at least. Please? Or better yet, ask a question. If I know you’re out there in the dark and halfway interested in what I’m talking about, my confidence level will go way up, and the show will be that much better.