How I Survived My Daughter’s Dance Competition

Being a dad at a youth dance competition can be a little…well, you decide.

 

April 25, 2024 (The day before the competition)

“I have a full day at the office tomorrow,” my wife says. “Can you take Libby to the competition?”

“Sure!” I respond, always eager to help.

 

April 26, 2024 (The day of the competition)

2:30 pm

“What time do we have to get there?” I ask Libby.

“Well, call time is at 4:30, but I want to get there a little early.”

“Sure!” I respond, always eager to help.

What is call time?

4:00 pm

“I refuse to pay for parking in this town,” I declare, part pep talk and part teaching moment.

Having heard this speech before, Libby nods.

“Ten dollars! That’s ridiculous!”

I pass the lot and find a spot on the street.

We start to walk.

4:02 pm

The garment bag feels surprisingly heavy.

I really need to start working out.

4:05 pm

I immediately tense up.

We have just walked in, and there are a lot of people.

And by people, I mean girls and women, or at least people who look like girls and women.

I stare helplessly at Libby, hoping she recognizes someone.

Then I tense up even more—we’re there early.

4:06 pm

Libby calls her friend who says she will be there shortly.

I stare at the floor.

4:10 pm

The friend arrives. The friend’s mother gives me a cursory glance, puzzled by my presence.

The three of them walk in front of me, identifying the appropriate changing area.

I know it’s my time to leave.

I quickly notify Libby and start walking to nowhere in particular.

4:13 pm

It’s only 4:13 pm?!

4:14 pm

I remember the snack bar.

“Can I get a Three Heads Kind IPA?” I ask innocently.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the man working the refreshments replies. “The company running the competition requested that we don’t serve alcohol.”

“Obviously no dads on that committee,” I joke.

“We do have soft drinks and snacks,” he says with a smile.

I glance at the M&M’s and Jolly Ranchers. Nothing looks good.

In a panic move, I buy some cheese cubes and pepperoni.

4:16 pm

Are there no chairs around here?

I walk carefully, avoiding groups of girls practicing their routines.

I guess I could go into the theater.

I’ve learned that call time is an hour before show time, and the thought of sitting in the dark and watching dances for over an hour isn’t amazing.

Plus I wouldn’t be able to read the book I brought.

4:18 pm

Balancing the book and the cheese and pepperoni is proving difficult.

I’ll eat the snack later.

4:19 pm

I start reading my book.

I’m still standing, as Elton John once said.

4:21 pm

Should I look at the gear?

Nah, I’ve given enough of my money to this dance company.

4:22 pm

I alternate between the book and the floor.

5:00 pm

My son calls.

We’ve roped him into coming, and he’s arrived.

5:01 pm

I find my son.

I’m relieved to see him, but I catch him eyeing the cheese and pepperoni.

I guess I’ll have to share.

5:02 pm

My son and I stare at the floor.

5:20 pm

“Should we go in?” I ask.

“Okay.”

We find the first aisle seats available.

5:22 pm

My wife arrives from work.

I guess I’ll have to share.

5:30 pm

Libby absolutely crushes her tap dance solo.

My wife and I beam with pride.

My son finishes the last piece of cheese.

5:40 pm

An award ceremony starts.

I have no idea what’s going on.

Everyone seems to be winning something.

The screaming is very loud and gives me anxiety.

6:00 pm

We get up to meet Libby at the changing area.

My son leaves, claiming he has “homework.”

My wife goes in.

I stare at the floor.

6:01 pm

The one mother I know says hello, walking by quickly so I don’t attempt to engage her in conversation.

6:10 pm

Libby and my wife exit the changing area.

I give the dancer a big hug.

“Can I stay to watch a little more?” she asks.

I look at my wife with fear in my eyes.

“I’ll stay with Libby,” she offers.

I don’t argue.

6:40 pm

Back home, I turn on the TV, excited for a night devoted to the NFL Draft.

7:30 pm

Libby and my wife come home.

“Can you turn on the livestream of the dance competition so I can watch all my friends?”

“Sure!” I respond, always eager to help.