Well, that’s settled. I learned something about myself over the weekend. I know some of my readers are going to land firmly on the opposite side of this, but I guess I’m just not a huge fan of monster trucks. I can already picture a few of you wadding up your paper and tossing it in the garbage. If you haven’t yet, read on.
I came to this realization after my small family traveled to Monster Jam in Fargo. If you’re unfamiliar, Monster Jam is a branded monster truck rally featuring famous trucks competing in a variety of events. More on those later.
This year marked my first time attending, as well as 4-year-old Zephie’s first Monster Jam. Two years ago, my husband took young Jackson and they had a blast. So much so, in fact, that last year we were fully committed to going as a family. Tickets were bought, we were in the car, and just about at the North Dakota line when Zephie decided to get sick in a way that made sitting through a two-plus-hour monster truck show extremely unappealing.
I was honestly disappointed that we didn’t get to go. So this year, it was on. Four tickets were purchased once again.
By this point, I knew more about Monster Jam than I ever expected to know, thanks to the deep love my son has developed over the last couple of years. That love first appeared in the form of a very detailed Monster Jam book from the school book fair, then expanded into a bed set, wall décor, and a truly impressive number of toy monster trucks.
The most famous truck, of course, is Grave Digger. Then there’s El Toro Loco, which looks like a bull and snorts smoke out the front. There’s Monster Mutt, several dinosaur and dragon trucks, and even a Scooby-Doo monster truck. In the last year or so, we were introduced to Sparkle Smash, not-so-subtly marketed toward girls. It’s a pink, sparkly unicorn monster truck and, naturally, my daughter’s favorite.
Once you have dozens of monster trucks, it follows that you must also acquire playsets. We now own a car wash, a giant race track, and a contraption designed to launch trucks over jumps and smash into other cars. Honestly, great stuff.
Before the event, my husband warned us that because the FargoDome is relatively small compared to some venues, not every single Monster Jam truck would be there. No problem. We could live with that.
We headed to Fargo on Sunday. I knew going in that Monster Jam would be a money pit, and I deliberately chose not to ask how much the tickets cost so I could live peacefully in a state of denial. That illusion ended quickly. Parking was $20. Souvenirs appeared to cost roughly one million dollars. Maybe not quite, but it sure felt like it.
Almost immediately upon arrival, my daughter announced she was hungry. This was approximately 15 minutes after finishing McDonald’s. Color me shocked. The only thing that could satisfy her sudden starvation was a snow cone she spotted in the concourse. When I went to buy one, I learned these were fancy snow cones served in souvenir Monster Jam cups and cost $25 apiece. Both kids wanted one. Too bad. You’re sharing. Did I lie and say they ran out? Possibly. For what it’s worth, they did eat the entire thing.
Shockingly, crushed ice did not fill my daughter up, and more snacks followed. Luckily, these were not souvenir snacks and were therefore only moderately outrageous. In the middle of my daughter demanding what amounted to a snack buffet, there just so happened to be a monster truck show going on.
And to be fair, the trucks were fun to watch. There were three rounds: racing, two-wheeled skills, and freestyle. Watching a monster truck fly through the air, land hard, nearly tip over, and then right itself is genuinely impressive. There were some big-air moments and a few awe-inspiring tricks.
But for me, there was also a lot of downtime. I am an impatient person by nature, and the dead space between events started to wear on me. That downtime also gave my daughter plenty of opportunity to think up new snack requests.
During the first round alone, two or three trucks broke down, which meant long pauses while vehicles were hauled off and the track reset. Between rounds, there were driver interviews, promotions, and endless announcements over the loudspeaker. Then came an intermission that felt nearly half as long as the entire show. There was some motocross stunting, which was fun but brief.
My husband had led me to believe there were four rounds of events, so after round three I headed out yet again to see if concession stands were still open, concerned my daughter might waste away. When I returned, it was clear that many people were leaving and that, in fact, the show was essentially over.
The crowd, though, was great. You could tell this was very much “their thing.” I’m a movie awards theme party kind of person. Some people are monster truck people. Their kids were decked out in Monster Jam gear, complete with pit crew outfits, hats, and shirts. Families left absolutely dripping in souvenirs. I silently wept for their pocketbooks, but if this is your once-a-year family tradition and you love it, more power to you.
