There was a strained whiff of excitement and dare I say ‘hope’ in our house last Sunday. It was to be one of those rare occasions when the dysfunctional family attempts to throw caution to the wind, forge a connection and trial doing something ‘together’ like normal families apparently do.
Around midday the old man excitedly assembled his characteristically inoperative brood around the computer, just prior to us launching our dysfunctionality on the unsuspecting city folk who were also going to see ColdPlay at the Allianz Stadium (unarguably the most disappointing venue in Sydney for womens’ toilets).
‘Look at this guys, it’s amazing,’ he gabbled excitedly, a rare smile illuminating his craggy face as he pointed to a bounding Chris Martin on the computer screen; (some of that cragginess around the eyes the direct result of a Coldplay fleecing in the combined ticket value of $600).
We knew he was up to something, due to the rarity of this type of familial interaction, (or indeed any social discourse with a person outside of the inner circle, which basically comprises of him and the dog). Nevertheless, we were naturally inquisitive. The teens dragged their respective Doc Martens sluggishly towards the computer, disdain plastered over their ‘WTF’ faces.
Ignoring our reticence, the old man turned up the volume full blast and we recognised ‘Every Teardrop Is A Waterfall’, while he awaited our reaction with visible anticipation.
The teens rolled their eyes in predictable fashion, whilst I shot him my best ‘like I have time for this’ face.
‘That’s great Dad,’ testypopped the ADHDer, ‘but we’re actually going to be seeing them in, like, four hours, so what exactly is your point?’
‘Well, son,’ he began, (unsuccessfully attempting to conceal his excitement), ‘this is the Coldplay song that you will be missing this evening when we leave the concert a little earlier than everyone else to avoid the traffic, and I just didn’t want you to miss out,’ he declared jubilantly, beaming, visibly celebrating both his perceived wisdom and perceived parenting skills.
We all looked at him in appalled silence. The dog slunk to her ‘I’m anxious’ position under the desk, her ‘safe place’ usually just prior to her urinating on the floor.
So if anyone spotted an obviously reluctant family of three being dragged away from Block 30 by a balding man hell-bent on a mission to get onto the Bridge before the rest of the world and their wives late on Sunday night, you know who it was.
Here’s what we missed.
Apparently there was a 45 minute queue just to get out of the car park.
Does that count as ‘winning?’