Skanky Ballerinas

Last night was my daughter’s ballet recital.  My daughter, all 3.5 years of her, was the first up and did a great impersonation of a bunny hopping.  "First in, first out!" was all I could think about given the fact that the recital began at 7pm and I hadn’t eaten dinner yet.

It was not to be.

My daughter wanted to stay and watch the rest of the dancers, which meant I was left to my own wonderings as more and more kids came on the stage.

I looked around the room – there were the other dads, also wondering how they got suckered into staying past their daughter’s allotted dance time.  One that I know, Jeff, looked at me and mouthed "do you have a flask?".  Sadly, I did not.  That is, however, when it got interesting.

Keep in mind we live in, I believe, the Aryan compound of Seattle: Magnolia.  All the kids are from this area as that’s where the school is located.  I say this to set the stage – you wouldn’t expect a scent other than Faconnable cologne wafting around you at an event like this.  Yet…intermingled with the Lexi, Bimmers, and Audis in the parking lot, there must have been an ElCamino with someone selling weed.  Yep, sitting there in my seat, wondering if I could fake an ankle injury and escape the event, I smelled the distinct aroma of cannabis.  I’ll admit I expected a little more high-class intoxication – Oxycontin, for example, but weed will do in a pinch if you’re forced to sit through 30 dances.  I looked around trying to find the pothead in our midst – I felt like Jane Goodall, trying to find the elusive silverback.  No dice – way too many Polo and Nautica shirts that acted as some kind of stealth shielding for transgressions past.

Turning my attention back to the stage, there was a very good quartet of older dancers that was fun to watch, altho they were dancing to some song from Moulin Rouge.  "Good," I thought, "now we get to watch some older kids for whom this is a real lifestyle rather than a way to blow 45 minutes once a week."  Then, however, more little kids.  Little kids, who looked sort of like rhesus monkeys after huffing on a can of Redi-Whip.  I’m pretty sure there is nothing that any little kid could do that hasn’t been done before.

"Oh look, Suzie made a scrunchy face as the curtain was closing!"

"Brittney-Lynn is standing still, in shock! Isn’t that cute!"

No, not really.  It’s a cliche.  At the hundreds of recitals that will certainly take place this spring, I guarantee the behavior of the little ‘uns will be the same.  I’m sure it’s cute if it’s your kid, but if it’s not, all you can think about is the parents taping the show so they can win $10k on America’s Funniest Home Videos.  Speaking of which – have those guys heard of inflation?  I think the prize was $10k when I was 12 – that was some cash back then.  Now, it’s a week of gas for a Hummer…

Ah good – more grown kids.  Talented.  Funny contrasts, tho – some very lithe ballerinas commingled with very…um…German?…ballerinas.  You can tell who is going to appear on PNB’s stage and who will probably fade away into Flag Squad at their local high school. 

But, I digress – the oddest thing I saw was the skanky ballerina

I guess I never noticed before, but there is a piece of nude fabric which covers the cleavage portion these 16 year old girls chests underneath their leotard.  I probably never would have noticed except that ONE of the 12 ballerinas on the stage had removed hers.  What was going through her mind?  Is she going for the Lolita look, trying to snag one of the few rich single dads in the audience?  Is her boyfriend in the audience and she is appealing to his baser instincts, inviting him to leap from his seat at the conclusion of the dance professing his true love of her chest dancing skills?  Is there a talent scout for Ricks’ Strip Club in the audience?  I can see the crossover.  I’m not sure how many people noticed it, but I was transfixed trying to figure out the rationale for her inappropriate décolletage. 

Then it hit me – she’s the toker that I must have smelled.  Kids – know this – pot, spandex, and ballet don’t mix.

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