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| Tyler Wilson |
A Jurassic smackdown
My wife is a true hero. Not only did her bladder save me from getting shot at by a crazed Las Vegas resident, her audacity salvaged "Walking with the Dinosaurs" for me and several other victimized attendees.
Now if you know me, you'd know that I love dinosaurs more than your average kindergartener. So naturally I ate up the chance to see giant, moving dino puppets at the Spokane Arena. It's like a live-action "Jurassic Park," except the dinosaurs don't eat anybody off of a toilet.
We settled into our seats on Saturday evening, munching on a giant pretzel and waited for the adventure to begin. A voice announced there was no flash photography allowed. About three dozen camera flashes erupted around the stadium when the lights dimmed, as if everybody collectively thought, "Screw the rules! We paid good money to get our out-of-focus shot of a puppet Velociraptor!"
Several minutes into the show, a family of four approached our row. The parents chatted with each other loudly as they passed, and their two young children were visibly terrified by the action on the Arena floor.
Now, I have reasonable expectations when I go to a kid-friendly show like this. I expect some child chatter. But this family clearly lacked the genes to be considerate to people around them.
The two children wailed in terror while the parents tried to console them, talking loudly over their screams. The young boy finally calmed down, but his dad kept chatting with him, as if he were at home watching Barney.
Pointed glares weren't working, and they were talking over the discussion of my favorite dinosaur, Stegosaurus. I'm fairly patient, but nobody messes with Stegosaurus.
Intermission came and I wanted to strangle somebody. Meanwhile the dad displayed some impressive parenting skills, telling his little girl to "grow up, act like a big girl and not be scared."
She was no older than three years old! Of course she's scared! They're huge, ridiculously real-looking monsters with big teeth!
We decided to give the family another chance in the second half. The father seemed to have threatened the little girl into submission, so we thought things might go smoother.
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Not one minute later, the little girl started screaming, "I want to go to the car! Now! The car!" The proud pop kept yelling at her while everybody in our section glared at him.
Finally, my wife jumped into action. "You're ruining this for everybody around you. Your kids are miserable. You're miserable. We're all miserable!"
The father sat there in silence. Clearly agitated but lacking the brainpower for a clever retort, he finally mumbled, "Well... you... you shouldn't come to the show."
The wife continued to pressure him, and finally the folks around us turned on the brain-dead parents. "Take them out of here!" "Just leave!"
The mother finally screamed, "We are!" but showed no signs of leaving.
My wife: "Good! Leave faster!"
The family finally stood up and left. Between arriving late and being forced to leave early, they paid $130 to "watch" 10 minutes of the show. Vindication.
Why do people like this believe they're entitled to let their children scream through a public presentation? Who allows these people to breed? No wonder so many people stay away from movie theaters and watch everything on DVD nowadays.
But anyway, my experience with "Walking with the Dinosaurs" ruled because my wife wouldn't allow a couple of morons to take the spotlight away from beloved Stegosaurus. That's love right there.
Tyler Wilson can be reached at twilson@cdapress.com.





Hey Brian wrote on Aug 10, 2007 8:16 AM: