Water, Water Everywhere

And once we are on our own, the kids and I look to our list of remaining tried and true traditions. 

Minor league baseball game.
Amusement park.
Outlet shopping.

The minor league baseball game is half the distance to home. And although it is a blast to attend, and we always have a great time, and it is by far the best bargain in baseball, it is, I repeat, half the distance to home. Not to mention the fact that I no longer have Scott's GPS and always, always, always get horribly lost. If I am ever a newlywed again, and venture onto the show The Newlywed Game, my spouse can clearly complete the statement "My spouse is at her worst when ______" by scrawling on the poster with the Sharpee, the words "She is lost in her car and realizes she is going around in little circles and may actually be in the wrong state." 

It's true. I become the worst version of myself. Short tempered. Frantic. Decidedly unsociable.

We can cross Minor League Baseball Game off the list of Must-Dos.

By show of hands we opt for the amusement park. And "amusement" is the operative word, for sure.

We get up early and eat a hearty breakfast. The longer we can avoid the outrageously overpriced, nutritionally vacuous dining selections available inside the gates, the better.  We make sure we have water park appropriate gear and ride riding appropriate gear stowed in a bag.  And of course, all of this must fit in a rented locker that would barely hold a frozen oven stuffer roaster.  At the last  minute, I woefully inform Hil that she does not need to pack her mascara, concealer, hair spray, or jewelry. The lip balm can make the trip if it has a decent SPF.  I am not packing a beauty kit, neither shall she. If my wallet has to go, then the makeup bag has to stay. We are packing like astronauts.

We are on the road early so as to get there precisely when the gates open. By now, I remember where the Giant food store is that sells the discount tickets so that I do not have to refinance my house to buy them.

I take the long road into the park that is designed to let you see how vast and exciting it is so your kids pee their pants in the parking lot. We park in a primo space and head on in with our pre-purchased tickets.

We plan to spend the day in the water park and then at "change of shift" when people start to think about dinner and departing, we'll change and hit the rides.

We make our way to the water park section of the park, a park within a park, and find some chairs to roost upon. The kids dash to the big giant water slides and I slide into my beach chair to work on my tan, conserve energy and consume an iced coffee. It is a matter of survival. We will be here until they start to turn off the lights.

And amusement.

The water park within the park is by far the best people watching I have born witness to in ages.

At first I would have said I'd be content to just stick my nose in a book for an hour while the novelty of the giant slides wears off for the kids, but the people are just too captivating.

The first to catch my eye is a woman, about my age, whose bikini eligibility is long expired, wearing a bikini she obviously found in the bottom of the drawer where she keeps her trove of skinny clothes.  And she has the nerve to sprint with her kids to the sprinklers. Sprint with such abandon that she has not noticed that the bottom of the bikini, the elastic of which is completely shot, has migrated several very noticeable inches below the crack of her considerable ass. She's running and shining a hands-free moon at everyone she passes. God love her indifference to the whole matter.

And that, my friends, is just where the fun begins. It is a Dr. Joyce Brothers-worthy study in human nature that should be mandatory for all PsyD students. Well worth the price of admission. (Which is about the cost of tuition for a PsyD program at a reputable school - I am glad we are getting to enjoy the rides and water features as a bonus.) 

First lesson - Chair Etiquette Gaffs and Candid Camera moments.