Parenting At Its Worst

Last night, my fine man and I attended the U2 concert at the Georgia Dome along with 100,000 other fans. U2 put on an incredible show, but it paled in comparison to the show in the seats directly in front of us.

We found our seats before the opening band started. A nice-looking family of four (Mom, Dad, and two teenage girls) were seated in front of us, eating their dinner. We briefly talked with them about the concerts we’d attended and those they’d attended. Having never seen U2 before, they were very excited to be there.

Appearances can be deceiving.

Finally, Dad gathered all their trash and took it to the trash cans. He returned several minutes later with three beers, handing one to his wife and one to his teenage daughter. All three of them quickly downed the alcohol. Dad got up again and purchased more beer. In my head I’m trying to convince myself that the teenage daughter is 21 or older, but I just couldn’t do it. The other daughter drank her Coke.

By the time the opening band finished, the teenage daughter had consumed three large cups of beer and took her mom’s cup of wine away from her. During the 30 minute intermission, the teenage girl passed out cold. Her mom nudged her dad, pointing to his drunk daughter. He shrugged his shoulders, stopped the beer concession guy, and bought another beer for himself. At the end of the concert, the parents roused their drunk daughter and took her home.

I do not know her age, so she could have been 21. But still . . . parents buying a large amount of alcohol for their young daughter, knowing she’s getting drunk? Something feels really wrong with that.