I saw Lewis Black on Saturday. The king of crossed-eyed comical anger was hilarious, smart, everything I hoped he would be and more.

The audience, however, was not.

Throughout the evening, I felt as if I’d either barf or bow my head in dismay. Black deserved better. Who wants to come to Joliet and be greeted by the epitome of Midwest podunk-ness?

My date and I sat comfortably nestled in our plush, red velvet seats in the Rialto Square Theatre’s balcony area. Intricate gold reliefs on the ceiling, grand drapery of the stage curtain … and a girl in a hoodie?!

I was baffled. I assured myself that I had purchased a ticket for a comedy show, not a seat in “CHIPS” live audience.

Rule No. 1: If you pay $50 for a ticket to a show for which you know wine is served in place of gooey popcorn, dress the part. Note the happy medium between drunkard-chic and high-end overkill.

After Hoodie Girl plodded by, I watched a woman in an impressively revealing sleeveless turtleneck (yeah, they exist) find her seat. Class, this is Exhibit A of why we call the venue beforehand to inquire about the dress code.

If you can’t decide between your high school graduation T-shirt and the Gucci mini-dress, call and ask. It’s embarrassing to show up dressed to the nines (or to the decimals) and realize you’re the night’s proverbial elephant in the room.

Another good idea is to think about what the performer will wear. If you’re heading to the symphony, it’s a good idea to save the Chuck Taylors for Friday’s kegger. Save them for the Metro, with that pinstripe blazer, or pair them with a cozy sweater for Jazz in the Park.

On to Rule No. 2: Applause is the ultimate form of compliment during a comedy show – not shouting, booing, whistling, screaming, whispering or talking on your cell phone.

If the joke’s funny, laugh. If it’s really funny or you agree with a point, applaud. If you suddenly feel the need to yell expletives, have your friend cut you off. Water’s your new best friend.

There’s nothing more déclassé than treating a theater show like a sporting event. There’s a reason they’re not held in the same venue.

Which brings us to Rule No. 3: No sunglasses indoors unless you’re Tom Cruise-pre-Scientology or one of the Blues Brothers.

Case in point: Mr. Clean’s crabby twin brother makes his way to his front-row seat minutes after John Bowman opened the show for Black. Fine, it’s not your fault the line for booze snakes out the door. Whatever.

But this particular straggler took his time getting to the middle of the front row, directly in Bowman’s line of sight.

What does the comic do? He picks on the guy for wearing sunglasses inside, not only because he’s interrupted his groove but because he’s also committed the equivalent of wearing a baseball cap to a swanky dinner.

Mr. Clean decides to heckle Bowman for picking on him. Yes, very second-grade of you, sir.

After 10 minutes of heckler’s ping-pong, Rialto police escort Mr. Clean outside, where he’s free to finish his temper tantrum.

The bottom line is to be courteous and conscientious of others, and to put some thought into your appearance out of respect for the performers.

No one paid $50 to feel awkward.