Monday, February 1, 2010

Pay for the Seat but You'll Only Need the Edge

Awwwww yeahhhhh! Today is your luckyspecialmagical day my dearies! I have returned from what might as well be my personal Dark Side of the Moon....the monster truck show. That's right. I lived! First off, this is important because I was pretty convinced that I'd end up on one of those video compilation shows like "Stunts Gone Wrong" and be impaled with a giant bolt, or run over by a giant tire. But fate spared me, and here I am, ready to regale you! Read on...

We left sort of late, at least by The Man's military precision standards. I was fine with it; it wasn't like I gave too much of a crap about the actual show - this was a bullet I was taking for my little man. (Mommy is NOT - repeat - NOT into monster trucks in any way.) The Man was worried about parking, and rightfully so, since we basically drove around for 35 minutes worth of "WHY aren't we THERE yet??" from the back seat, until we found a vacant meter on a side street about, oh, five miles from the actual venue.

Then, lovely readers, we walked. And walked. And. Walked. Anyone who has ever walked long distances with small children knows that you're not walking with them, so much as you're dragging them. The Man ended up carrying The Destroyer while Princess and I hustled as much as we could, burdened by 39 pounds of winter clothing. Did I mention it was about 20 degrees below zero? Yeah well, I couldn't feel my FACE the entire day. We walked to the stadium. We walked to dinner. We walked back to the stadium. We walked to the car. All I know is, you pass a point of cold when you don't remember what WARM feels like - and then you DO because circulation returns, and you cry. Unless you lose your ear to frostbite. (Okay, I didn't lose any extremities, but it was a near miss.)(The kids were bundled like that little guy in A Christmas Story - so don't worry, they were okay.)


The actual show itself was...how shall I say this without offending any actual monster truck fans....crazy redneck. Okay, maybe that wasn't terribly tactful. Truth, however, isn't always tactful.

I was awash in a veritable OCEAN of cammo-wear. Camouflage coats, hats, shirts, pants, and in one unfortunate case, huge cammo overalls. A lot of fishhooks on the cammo hats too, which I have never truly understood. What, you just never know when you might decide to try some fishing....in January...in a frozen arctic state? Even in summer I can't really see a need to have a razor sharp fishhook near my EYES.

Alas, by the time I realized there were some true mullets, I'd missed the chance for a picture. But we did get some pictures. Ready?

How's THIS for exciting?



And this my friends is Gravedigger. You'd know because a lot of the fans (seriously how does this even engender FANS) would chant "Gravedigger!" and some even had home- made SIGNS! If only they could put their glitter and glue pens to good use...



If it looks like we were rather close to the "action" it's because we WERE. We were FIVE rows (but who's counting) up from the "safety barrier." By safety barrier, I mean the seats that were covered in blue plastic tarps. Yep. A flat blue tarp was supposed to save us if something went horribly wrong. Normally I'd consider that sort of thing Darwinism in action, but since I was THERE with my kids, I was really hoping in the power of magic tarps.

I'm not really sure who won (because apparently there are points of some sort, and someone does actually win) because we left during blessed, blessed intermission. Princess was fast losing her already limited patience and The Destroyer had begun to throw peanuts at his sister and other small children.

My kiddo loved it though and has been talking about it for days, so I guess it was....worth it. And someday when he cures cancer/invents a money tree/creates world peace I'll remind him of what he owes Mommy.

Comments, questions, do you like Gravedigger?

0 comments: