Monday, May 17, 2010

Taylor Swift And One Hundred Angry Clydesdales...

This past Saturday night I took one for the team.

What team you ask?

I have no fucking clue what team. But I took one for them.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a shitty Dad. I usually feel this way when I come home late from work or I'm preoccupied with something. Then there are times when I feel like an awesome Dad. It's always because of some little thing; like making my daughters laugh or giving them piggy back rides.

Then there are times when I pretty much invent new heights unto which I can soar above all other parents because of how unique my approach to fatherhood can be.

Saturday night was one of those times.
May 15, 2010 - Nassau Coliseum, Taylor Swift Concert

Out-Numbered - Hey bud. You hungry?

7 Year Old - No. Let's just get into the concert already.

Out-Numbered - Dude. Chill out. Taylor Swift doesn't go on for another hour and a half.

7 Year Old - How do you know?

Out-Numbered - Because Kellie Pickler has to go on before her.

7 Year Old - Who is Kellie Pickler?

Out-Numbered - She's the opening act.

7 Year Old - What's an opening act?

Out-Numbered - It's the lame music that comes before the good music.

7 Year Old - If it's so lame, then why do they even have an opening act?

Out-Numbered - Because without an opening act, there would be no time to eat chicken fingers and french fries.

7 Year Old - Can we get back stage passes?

Out-Numbered - No.

7 Year Old - Can we meet Taylor Swift?

Out-Numbered - No.

7 Year Old - Can we sit up close?

Out-Numbered - Nope.

7 Year Old - Can we do anything?

Out-Numbered - Yes. We can eat chicken fingers and french fries. There's the restaurant. Let's go.

7 Year Old - Fine.

Because the Nassau Coliseum is a total piece of shit, there aren't many options in the way of culinary experiences. So you do what every other patron of this 40 year old dump does.

You eat chicken fingers and french fries.

Lots of them.

And they are terrible.

My stomach doesn't like terrible...

Inside the concert. Kellie Pickler yodels like Alfalfa with a pair of tits and makes me want to take an ice pic to my cerebellum...

My stomach doesn't feel so great and I'm not sure it's entirely Kellie Pickler's fault.

Out-Numbered - Hey pal.

7 Year Old - YEAH!

Out-Numbered - I think I need to use the bathroom.

7 Year Old - WHAT?

Out-Numbered - Take your earplugs out.

7 Year Old - I CAN'T HEAR YOU!


7 Year Old - Oh. Sorry.

Out-Numbered - Come on. Let's go.

7 Year Old - Where are we going?

Out-Numbered - I need to go to the bathroom.

7 Year Old - We're gonna miss Taylor Swift.

Out-Numbered - No we won't. I promise.

7 Year Old - Fine.

I drag my kid through a sea of 10 year old girls and their mothers. The best Long Island has to offer; pre-teens sporting fake cowboy hats and cheap blue eye shadow. They look like a cross between Jon Voight in Midnight Cowboy and Jodie Foster in Taxi Driver. It makes me want to start bitch slapping every parent within a one hundred foot radius but I must poop. First things first.

Out-Numbered - Hurry up.

7 Year Old - Where are we going?

Out-Numbered - To the bathroom.

7 Year Old - The boys bathroom?

Out-Numbered - Yes.

Clenching Sphincter

7 Year Old - No way. I'm too old to go into the boy's room.

Out-Numbered - I can't leave you out here by yourself.

7 Year Old - You'll be two seconds.
Out-Numbered - It might take longer than that.

7 Year Old - Dad, how long does it take you to pee?

Out-Numbered - Just come with me.

I drag her into the men's room. It's jam-packed. I tell her to close her eyes and hold my hand. She complies begrudgingly.

We enter the handicapped stall together.

7 Year Old - It smells in here.

Out-Numbered - Shhhhh. People can hear you.

7 Year Old - It smells like pee.

Out-Numbered - Don't touch anything. Just stand in the corner and face the door. Keep your eyes closed.

7 Year Old - Why do I have to keep my eyes closed?

Out-Numbered - Because I'd like some privacy.

7 Year Old - I've seen you pee before.

She peeks through one open eye and catches me wiping the toilet seat.

7 Year Old - What are you doing?

Out-Numbered - Just turn around and close your eyes.

7 Year Old - Why do you need to wipe the seat to pee?

I can barely hold it in. It's gonna be close. I feverishly try cover the seat with toilet paper.

Out-Numbered - TURN AROUND!

7 Year Old - DAD! ARE YOU POOPING?!!

Out-Numbered - YES! LEAVE ME ALONE.

7 Year Old - Oh my God. You are so gross!

Out-Numbered - Shhhhhh!

7 Year Old - Oh my God! Get me out of here! You are disgusting!

Out-Numbered - Please. Stop it.

Release the chicken fingers and french fries with the fury of one hundred, angry Clydesdales.

7 Year Old - DAD! I can't believe you're pooping with me in here. OH MY GOD. I want to throw up.

Courtesy flush

Out-Numbered - Here take my phone and play Brick Breaker.

7 Year Old - Are you serious? Get away from me.

Out-Numbered - Just take it.

More angry Clydesdales.

7 Year Old - YUCK! It smells in here.

Second courtesy flush.

Out-Numbered - Please take the phone and play a game.

7 Year Old - Can I listen to Taylor Swift on Pandora?

Out-Numbered - No.

7 Year Old - Why not?

Out-Numbered - Because it's rude to play music with other people around.

7 Year Old - Dad, are you kidding me? You're pooping with me in the bathroom.

Out-Numbered - Fine.

7 Year Old - Cool.

And so the night began... A father and his daughter share a special moment. A sweet and unforgettable moment on a perfect Saturday evening at the Nassau Coliseum. In the men's room. In a crowded stall. Listening to Taylor Swift...

Looking back on it now, I suppose it was my daughter that took one for the team. Still, it was better than the opening act.