I assume its okay to have a mild cough at the musical theater when Virginia passes of tuberculosis, or a night at Nevermore, Aquinas College's new show.

I am finally beating back a cough, not contagious, a product of sinus
drip. But I brought a cache of cough drops and the speaker at my foot
overwhelmed my quiet hacks. More regrettable, I might be the only
person in an intimate audience who didn't arrive with a bouquet of
roses for an actor. This is barely an exaggeration. A dashing young
man laid on his back, dead for all I could tell. Ever mistake a silk
flower for a real rose This illusion worked the other way around. I
thought it were a doll and a bad one at that. The pant legs at the
shins had no volume. The bust had a sheen of cheap plastic. I had the
luck to be sitting by a woman with Altoids, who just so happened to be
the cheap doll's mother. So what do you exclaim in response "Your son
plays dead really, really well" Edgar Allen Poe sprung back to life,
quickened by an excellent score, and never had a still moment for an
hour and a half, without intermission. This is remarkable collegiate
theater, and this performance will dominate my relationship to Edgar
Allen Poe's writing for the rest of my life. See it.