When I realized I was wrong…. there I was, standing in a labyrinthine line that stretched seemingly from the East to the West, and it boasted a grand reward at the end. ‘Twas a booth that offered free trips to the Caribbean! No, it was a roller coaster. Three hours… for a cart hoisted on tracks to spurn me into a ride of endorphin overload. It jolted my limbs as a surrogate masseuse, yes, but it’s not what caught my eye. The people-watching: ever amusing; the cacophonous mixture of laughs and screams giving the amusement park a well-needed ambiance: adorable. The heat and dearth of anything remarkably close to healthy: a death knell. When you go to an amusement park—while you believe you are the most prepared person to ever foot a park—within one hour you realize that you forgot to bring a hat. Then you look down and see you’re wearing jeans with hot, fluffy socks that in no way aerate your sweaty soles. Most sweetly, you brought one 16oz water bottle to sate your thirst for about 20 minutes. Good job.
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