As planned, I played hooky from work today with the intentions of going to Wild Waves. Bright and early this morning (*cough*8:30am*cough*), amazoni woke me up with a text message saying that the weather in her area was super crappy, and she wanted to know if we were still on. I looked out my window, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, so I sent a wave of messages out to everyone who was interested in going today that Operation: Waterpark was go.

An hour later, I took Napoleon out, and was totally aghast to see that the entire sky was cloudy and grey, almost as if Thor was mocking me and my attempt to recreate summer vacation at my age. I sent out more text messages asking if people were willing to take the gamble–amazoni bowed out, but poetrix618 and jimhark rose to the challenge.

We arrived at the park around noon, and the place was absolutely deserted; it was actually quite perfect. No scorching sun, no searing-hot blacktop, and no lines–just us and a handful of other people, braving the elements. It rained on and off while we were hitting the waterslides, which didn’t bother us at all as we were already soaking wet; what were a few drops more or less?

I learned an important lesson: Even though I thought my new swimsuit fit quite well in the seat, it doesn’t matter how well you THINK it fits when you go screaming down a waterslide at high speeds–it’s still going to cram itself straight up your ass and maybe even give the lifeguards sitting at the ends of the rides a free show. I couldn’t tell if anyone was gawking or not as I am completely blind without my glasses. One thing is for sure: there’s no way in hell I have any sand in my vagina anymore.

After we tired of water rides, we decided to check out the dry section of the park, and wisely started with the metal rollercoaster–the park was so dead, the ride operators actually sent us through twice in a row which made me squeal with delight. Jim and Anne? Not so much.

It was around that time that I felt the overwhelming need to utilize my sole superpower. What is my superpower, you ask? I have the ability to make others vomit from thrill rides. Once, I spun the teacups at Six Flags so fast, my friend Rosemarie was vomiting for three hours afterwards. This superpower was inherited from my father, who once spun the teacups at Disneyworld so fast that HE blacked out. He and I are fearless when it comes to rides–make it faster, steeper, more dangerous, and let’s eat a cheesesteak immediately beforehand. We happened onto the ‘Disco Flashback’ about that time, a ride that spins while rolling back and forth on a half-circle. I demanded to ride it. Jim and Anne declined. I persisted, calling Jim all manner of names until he finally caved into my peer pressure, which I KNEW he would. He probably would’ve been fine, but we ended up getting a ride and a half as the ride operator stopped us about halfway through to kick someone off because they had spit off of the ride, and then started us back up for a full round. During this second ride, I looked over at Jim, who was doing the ‘eyes squeezed shut, pinched-face, breathing out in that controlled way that lets everyone know you’re trying not to vomit’ thing and I realized I’d used my powers for Evil. But what is the point of having superpowers if you don’t bust them out on occasion?

Jim and Anne both needed to sit for a bit after that ride to wait for the queasiness to pass; after they felt good to go, we hit the bumper cars and their wooden roller-coaster, whereupon I was hit on by a baby-faced teen who immediately stuck out his hand and said “Hi, I’m Derrick, I’m sixteen.”

“…Hi. I’m Melissa. I’m twenty-six.”

“Oh wow, cool. So…like…are you here with anybody?” (and on, and on)

HAHAHAHAHA. Never did I think I’d see the day when someone would hit on me while I’m wearing a swimsuit, fishbelly-white thighs and all!

So that was our summer-vacation day at Wild Waves. I may have a little chlamydia in my eye, a minor case of foot AIDS, and hair that looks like Helena Bonham Carter’s on a bad day, but it was fan-freaking-tastic.