Hot Mess Goes To The Water Park – Part 2

Here is part 1: Hot Mess Goes To The Water Park- Part 1

Reluctantly I got my sensible, mom bathing suit on and checked my lady area 3 times in 3 different types of lighting. You know what happens, just when you think you shaved all the hairs off, a stray pube rears it’s ugly head. I grabbed my key card and Chapstick and made what felt like the 3 mile journey to the water park from our suite.

I started off with the family toilet bowl. My 8 year old enjoyed it so it had to be ok, right? We climbed 5 flights of concrete stairs and for someone as out of shape as I am, I was doubled over, taking rest breaks. We were maybe 20 people back when I heard 3 teens yelling in the direction of the water slide.

“JUMP!”

“Just get out and jump!!!”

I lean over the railing to see the 4 person raft was stuck, just before the drop. I thought a riot was going to break out as these 2 20-something men just sat on the raft waiting for what? The fire department? I even screamed jump! People were getting more and more pissed. It was as if these 2 men were standing between the angry mob and their food. After 20 minutes and the water turned off, a young female employee gingerly walks over with her white Keds on the slide and helps the men into the hole. She then kicks the raft down the hole while then proceeding to wipe out herself.

Eventually we got to the top of the line. Now mind you, next to us there is a line for another slide and next to me is a set of girls about 14 years old. One of the girls had a massive tampon string hanging from her bikini. So tell me, what would you have done? I didn’t say anything for fear she would be completely embarrassed. I have no idea how she didn’t feel it dangling from her leg.

I had spend the majority of the time at the water park with my 8 year old. He couldn’t go on the huge rides like my 12 year old and his friend. Eventually my 12 year old got a little jealous and demanded I go on 1 ride with him since it was his birthday celebration.

“What do you want to go on?” I asked, praying he’d say a bar stool.

“The human toilet bowl.” He said, not missing a beat.

I looked on YouTube and the video really doesn’t do it justice for the amount of fear it instilled me. I knew I was in trouble when this was the sign hanging over the dark portal of terror:

I’m sorry, “for strong swimmers only”? WTF? I can swim but I wasn’t fucking Michael Phelps. I could swim and seriously I thought that is all I needed.

http://https://youtu.be/ksLhM-8lbK8

The life guard high-fived me and was like, “girl, you can do it! It’s not that bad”. And suddenly I’m all into the girl power and I’m like “fuck this shit, I can totally do this”. I crossed my heart as the ride suggested (not the bra), took a deep breath and plunged myself into total darkness.

My screams were that of a baby kitten being murdered. I told myself to remain calm, that people get out of crisis by remaining calm. I was flung out onto the gigantic disk, about to be plunged into 7′ of water. I likened this to the Titanic when Jack told Rose to swim to the surface. I was told to swim to the surface and towards the whistle of the life guard. I tried to adjust my body so that when I fell into the hole I wouldn’t go head first. This proved futile. Once in the deep waters, I was remarkably calm while swimming to the surface, pawing for anything that might seem like land. I found the side of the toilet bowl then the hand of the life guard.

“You want to go again?” He asked in broken English.

“NO!” I declared while taking his hand to find the stairs of this nightmare. At the top were my son and his friend, doubled over in laughter. They were barely able to contain themselves. I walked over to a chair, my hair still covering my face and sat there stunned like I had just been in a plane crash.

The Arcade Room 

Normally skanks keep within a protective barrier such as the county fair or an amusement park but occasionally, like cattle that isn’t fenced in, they wander off into pastures they shouldn’t. The Kalahari Water Park was this pasture. In hour 8 of our time at Kalahari, my husband and I found ourselves in the Dave and Buster’s like arcade. He held my 8 year old’s arcade card while I held his 1,000 tickets he had amassed. We followed him around like servants, hollow inside, dreaming about our bed.

Just then I notice 4 teen girls wearing next to nothing in the arcade. It would be one thing if they were wearing bathing suits, fresh out of the water park. These girls had cut their jean shorts so their butt cheeks almost showed. They took their cotton t-shirts and tied them in a knot so their mid-drift was exposed. One had their belly button pierced with a belly ring that jingled when she walked. All of them had 1-2 cellphones in their back pockets.

“Dear God, where is their mother?” I hissed at my husband.

“Oh those girls?” He asked, jetting his chin out at them. “Funny story, they were on our floor and when they walked by the boys they told them they were cute and had pretty eyes.”

‘Esqueeze me? Come again?’ I thought.

“Oh hell no!” Was my actual reaction. “I’m shuttin’ that shit down real quick,” I declared to C, determined to protect my 12 year old and his friend.

Suddenly my they are 12 and can take care of themselves mentality turned into- where are they now and don’t let them out of your sight! 

I knew I would be talking about this on my blog so I made C get a picture of me with the ho’s in the background. Here I am with wine, and trying not to laugh:

So yeah, my son will not be an active participant of 16 and Pregnant. Sorry ladies.