Sunday, July 29, 2012

Talk derby to me

There's something about a demolition derby that makes one feel a little bit like an ancient Roman who's come to the Colosseum to watch a gladiatorial death match. 

At first, I was horrified. People were cheering for the car crashes! What is wrong with our society?

Well, as the night progressed that question was replaced by another question: why did the drivers keep lifting off the gas right before hitting another car? Come on! This ain't a Barbie derby. Let's see some crunching!

And we did. We also saw a number of cars spurt a few flames and one that was legitimately on fire, one truck slowly turned over amid cheers, one car flipped over in about a second, one car, while it wasn't even moving, belch some part followed by a whole lotta smoke and more. We left early, but apparently in the final match the Jaws of Life were called out and two guys went to the hospital.

God bless America.

The number of mullets (7) outshone the number of Confederate flags (4), but the gold medal winner  redneck stereotype was the painting of either "Mom" or a heart with a woman's name on the side of a car or truck that was about to be completely demolished with this guy inside. I'm sure their mothers and/or significant others were thrilled with the hobby.

And the conversation at the demolition derby -- well, it belongs in a museum somewhere.

"Enough of this tickle fight."  The guy who said this had a Fu Manchu.  

"I've heard that people who shoot horses are fairies." ?

"Ready for a lick?" This only sounds really disturbing if you are not privy to the fact that Matt had a gigantic blue-flavored Pixy Stick that he ate -- and shared -- through the entire derby.

"The C goes that way." Mary Lu, to yours truly. It turns out all those years of formal education, as well as years of dancing to "YMCA" at church dances, did not teach me the proper direction to point the C.

"Dude, it's not an excuse to touch me like that." Fu Manchu to his inappropriately shirted friend, Mustachioed Mullet Man. I wish I knew what excuse he was using.

"I'm so glad they let us out once a week from the hospital." Fu Manchu
"I know. I should have brought my helmet though ... but that would make me look stupid." Mustachioed Mullet Man wearing a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off and slits in the side. I'm not sure he recognized how unnecessary his conditional statement was.

"Rednecks always win, right?" 10-year-old on the row in front of us for whom we all pitied -- my friends because he was around influences that wore tacky T-shirts and thought flipping the bird and saying "F*** you" to a person was an acceptable greeting among friends, me because he had no chance of not growing up to be a redneck.

"I'm glad you didn't wear your Daisy Dukes." Fu Manchu
"Me too." Mistachioed Mullet Man
Me three.

The fun has to end sometime, though. The Pixy Stick eventually came up empty.

No comments:

Post a Comment