I will admit that I am an uncultured swine (see previous item). I am also married, which means that occasionally my wife demands that I wash the Cheeto dust off my face, put on a shirt with buttons, and take her “somewhere nice.”
When you take your wife out “somewhere nice” you have to be careful, because if it’s too obviously something you want to do then it ends up causing fights and you have to go out the next weekend again to make up for it. So you can only drag her to so many giant monster movies and tractor pulls.
The best bet is to take her where people sing, or emote on stage, or dance (fully clothed and definitely not on a pole: I found out the hard way that’s not exactly what she considers "somewhere nice").
So I took her to Riverdance this weekend, which promised all three. I want you to know that I went in to the evening with very, very low expectations. Exceedingly low. And yet, my hopes were dashed.
It’s not that the Irish dancing was bad; that was actually kind of cool. It’s just that there’s less Irish dancing than you’d think. There’s a lot of wailing in some language not English, with lights flashing and musicians playing what sounds like fast-paced funeral dirges. Oh, and if there’s a story, it makes absolutely not one iota of sense.
To make matters even worse, we parked roughly five miles away, walked through the freezing cold, and she was sick. Dinner was nice, though.
At halftime she looked at me and said “are you enjoying this?”
I plastered on my best Joker smile and said “Of course! This is great! Can we come back next weekend? You want to buy the DVD they’re selling of it as a memento?”
“Well, if you’re enjoying it we’ll stay,” she said to me. “I’m okay to leave, though, because I really don’t feel well and-"
“LET’S GO!” I yelled, picking her up and running for the exits. I think I flattened an usher and three smokers during my stampede, but I stand by my mad dash. The show was so bad they asked to see tickets to let us leave, but I bribed the guard with a twenty just to escape.
It was a total victory for me. Next time I take her out, we can see the five-hour limited edition special Godzilla versus Truckasaurus, and if she complains I can say “I just thought since you drug me away from Riverdance you’d make it up to me…”
So to summarize: I love Riverdance, and I’m gonna get tickets the very next time my wife is sick.