NOKD

I've often said that thanks to - or because of - the boys we experience events Kelly and I would never have on our own. Tonight's family outing is a perfect example of that.

The tickets for this extravaganza were a gift from my friend Nick, from whom I buy ad space on a couple of local TV stations. When I handed the tickets to Gus and asked him to read what was written on them to Niko, I watched with amusement as he read, MONSTER TRUCK WINTER NATIONALS.



Gus' eyes grew saucer size, matched only by the grin creeping across his face. Niko jumped off of the couch, throwing his arms around my leg jumping up and down - trying to pick me up? - while repeating, "THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!"



Yeah, Nick was right: the boys were going to enjoy this.

When we arrived, and looked at the rather sparse crowd, I immediately thought of an acronym my friend Aimz had taught me back in high school: NOKD - Not Our Kind, Dear. Yup, we seemingly weren't the typical monster truck attendees. As a matter of fact, we hypothesized that we were the only organic-eating, minivan-driving, gay vegetarians in the entire audience.

Frankly, Kelly and I were surprised at how excruciatingly dull it all was. We joked that in 2 1/2 hours there were only 12 minutes of action. Seriously, how many times can you see souped-up trucks sporting ginormous tires crush over a handful of old clunkers at ear-splitting sound levels?



But every time it occurred, the audience - our boys included - whooped in appreciation. Kelly and I looked at each other and yawned.

To be fair, on the other end of the cultural spectrum, Kelly and I did fall asleep while watching the Kirov Ballet perform Swan Lake in St. Petersburg.

The end result is it wasn't their parents cup of tea, but the boys really enjoyed it, and that's all that counts. So in spite of the noise (we did have the foresight to bring ear plugs), and the dust, and the exhaust fumes (and my $11 beer!), it was fun for us as a family.

Is it something we'll ever do again? I certainly hope not. But I'll never say never.

As we waited to exit the parking lot, 2 men and 2 boys in a minivan surrounded by pick up trucks with tires as big as Gus, Kelly turned and said, "OK, so next time it'll be either demolition derby or professional wrestling." I can't wait.

For those of you who may want to experience a little of the evening's excitement, here's a very short video clip Kelly took.