Being from the Midwest, I am familiar with cow tipping. When I lived in Eastern Washington (1995), one of my photographers at the studio I managed regaled us with stories of rat stompin'. I would think that rat stompin' would be much more beneficial, from a cardio point of view. On Sunday, I was treated to a performance of Stomp, the percussion and humor based show that has been running for well over ten years now. For a fan of anything related to percussion, this was nirvana. Luckily, I am that fan of anything percussion. I remember growing up with my two younger sisters, and sitting at the kitchen table, tapping on bowls, cereal boxes and thighs, creating our own percussion rhythms. We would get increasingly intricate, eventually competing with each other until one of us spazzed out and broke the pattern. We used various household items, just like they do in Stomp, from bags to combs. It's kind of funny now, but we all thought we were inventing something new at the time. Thirty years later, I have yet to get them together to join me in a drumming circle, though my younger brother plays drums in a garage band. We are all "self-taught", and rely on some sort of primal instinct when it comes to rhythm. Needless to say, I was pretty enthused when members of the troupe encouraged audience response. It reminded me of the call and response activity practiced by African story-tellers. Krik! Krak! We were seated next to a father and four children. The one nearest me, a ten year old girl, FELL ASLEEP within 30 minutes! How? She woke up at the end, only to clap when everyone was supposed to be snapping their fingers in response to the troupe member on stage. It's not like the two hours, without intermission, was redundant in any way. Longer and louder segments were interspersed with comic sketches and what I termed in my mind "quickies". One of my favorite segments was when the stage lights were completely doused, and the eight members stood in a line facing the audience, each with a Bic lighter in hand. The only percussion was the snicking and clicking of the lighters going on and off, and clinking against its neighbor. It was delightful, and reminiscent of someone playing wine glasses as bells. At least, that's what I saw/felt when I heard/saw them. I told my brother that I was going to see the show, and he snorted in derision, claiming it the "worst show" in the world. I don't care that it's been around for a long time, or that people may regard it as the "Cats" of percussion performance -- it was very entertaining, evoking enthusiasm and a sense of satisfaction when it was over, like dining at a favorite comfort food restaurant for free. All this, and not a rat in sight.