I went to my kid’s dance recital on Saturday. Four hours in all, of which she was on the stage a total of three minutes. I was medicated, but not nearly enough. Some of you might remember last year’s affair, where stuck in those small cramped seats I had to endure the smell of shit for several hours. This time wasn’t much better.

You’re only allowed to leave the auditorium between dances and they had Gestapo posted at all the doors insuring the mandate was enforced. There were 45 individual songs/dances of which my kid participated in one, plus the finale. That guarantees the seats stay full to the end. My kid went on, like third, and then we had three more hours to kill before we could retrieve her. The trouble started early.

The idiots who were sitting next to us had set up camp and we had to get through them to get to the aisle. I sat in my seat with my camera and program on my lap. In contrast, the buttholes had four bouquets of flowers, a handful of programs and two backpacks all laid out on the floor at their feet. And I had to pee.

I held it until our kid was done and then we planned our exit to the bathroom. The problem was that between the dances they turned all the lights out completely. It was like being at the bottom of a well. You’d think that the red exit signs mandated by law would throw at least some light but you’d be wrong. Also, the time between dances was like one minute, so you had to act fast.

The lights went off and I bolted up, carrying my shit with one hand and grabbing the old lady with the other. It was hopelessly dark…I really couldn’t see anything. I said, “Excuse me!” at the top of my voice, but the assholes sitting there didn’t bother to move. Again, “I said, excuse me!” Still nothing. I was standing there in the dark like a jackass and I’d had enough.

I started stomping through. The first thing I felt under my right foot was a bouquet of flowers. There was no room to walk normally so I had to side-shuffle, and in doing so felt my left foot smash the remains. Then I hit a backpack, but felt it lifted from my path, with a great sigh. Like I was putting these people out or something. “Excuse me!” I shouted again because I was trying to be polite, but he was still unrepentant as after moving the backpack he was just sitting back in his chair. The rest of his brood was just as useless. I plowed over more flowers, ice skated on his programs and stepped all over his feet. I got by him, but not before he took a head shot from the camera. He actually yelped when I clocked him. I was still dragging my wife by the hand so whatever I didn’t completely smash she surely did.

I heard her saying excuse me as well but these people just didn’t get it. By the time we hit the aisle we had steamrolled over four people and their possessions. The doors were closed, the lights were up and we hadn’t gotten out. I was standing to the side now and looked over at the assholes. They were watching the performance like nothing had happened. Smiling.

I could have beaten the whole family to death at that point and not lost any sleep. With the lights up I could see the damage we’d done getting out. All the flower bouquets were completely destroyed. Flattened. The programs were torn up good and had giant, size twelve footprints on the remains. The best part was the giant bag of Cheetos that were completely and totally demolished, I’m assuming by my wife, because I never felt them. Have you seen a big, stepped on bag of Cheetos recently? It’s quite a sight.

We stayed outside for about an hour and we knew we could ever return to our seats down front. We stayed up in the nosebleed section for the remainder where we had some room and could chat without disturbing others. It was a wholly miserable experience, save the three minutes of my kid. I wouldn’t have missed that, and I though I pay a heavy price each year it’s worth it.