From today's ASB:
I had my first school formal on Saturday night, which is to say, my daughter went to hers and I opened the sluice gates on my inappropriately-named savings account and watched my carefully hoarded fortune flood out into the hands of carnivorous dress designers, hairstylists, make-up artists and the guy who invented Uniqlo because at the last minute I learned I’d have to be in the pre-formal photos too.
(Off topic observation. Every dad is a $49.00 late Saturday afternoon panic outfit purchase away from becoming a lifelong committed Uniqlo Dad. Thank you, Mr Uniqlo. Thank you.)
Anyway, the dance was fine. No funny or tragic or tragicomic stories emerged from it. But that is not always the way of things with high school dances, is it? Especially not when you finally reach the very summit of Mt. Dramapalooza, which in Australia is known as The School Formal and in the US as Prom Night.