Remember when I actually did a good job of keeping up with this blog? Yeah, come to think of it, me either. But wow, it's been a while. I used to say I was going to do better and would post more often, but let's get real, I probably won't, so I'm not going to promise anything.
Earlier tonight my grandma asked me to write down this story because she wanted to share it with some friends of ours and I thought, "you know what? I haven't blogged in forever, I could totally kill two birds with one stone and use this story for a blog." Side note, there has to be a more effective method of killing birds. I don't think my aim or arm strength is good enough to even kill one bird with a stone, let alone two, but I digress.
Several years ago, my mom and I took a trip to Branson, Missouri. It was a really fun trip. This was the trip on which I discovered the deliciousness of Lambert's Cafe (Home of Throwed Rolls). It was also the trip on which I discovered that I have a pretty significant fear of waterslides.
We stayed at Welk Resort which was a really nice hotel, mostly because they gave us a bag of snacks and bottles of water, what can I say, I'm easy to please. It also had an indoor waterpark right across the parking lot which was free to anyone staying at the hotel. We knew about this before leaving on the trip, but I'm not normally one for swimming, so I didn't bother packing a swimsuit. However, a day or so after we got there, I decided that I wouldn't mind spending a couple hours at the waterpark, so we bought me a bathing suit at the local Walmart and headed across the parking lot to check it out. Like I said, I don't normally like to swim, probably because I can't, so I headed straight for the vacant hot tub. For a while, I was sitting there thinking that sitting in a hot tub by myself was pretty awkward. But then someone else entered the hot tub, which I discovered was even more awkward, so I got out. While I was in the hot tub and not thinking about how incredibly awkward it was, I had also thought about trying the water slide. I mentioned this to my mom who was sitting in a chair off to the side, waiting for me to get ready to go back to the hotel. "I wish you would," she said. I mentioned that I wasn't sure since I couldn't really swim. She then pointed out that there had been a kid that had been down the slide three or four times already. She said, "if a kid can do it, I'm pretty sure you'll be fine." Terrible advice, but it worked. After watching several kids pop out of the end of the slide, skip across the water a couple times, and then walk out of the pool, I made my way up the stairs to the top of the slide. While waiting for my turn to hurl towards impending death, I came up with a strategy to minimize the risk of drowning as much as possible. The plan I came up with was to drag my heels all the way down the slide to keep from building up too much speed. In my mind, this would mean that I would pretty much end up sitting at the edge of the slide at the bottom where I could simply slip into the water and make my way out of the pool. Of course, I didn't take into account the water jet at the slide's entrance. I sat down at the top of the slide and before I even had the chance to dig in my heels, the jet propelled me down the slide at a speed I had not previously experienced outside of a car. Remember what I said about the kids just skipping across the water a couple times before putting their feet down and walking out of the pool? Yeah, that's not how it went with me. I flew out of the slide, all four limbs flailing, hit the water which someone had apparently replaced with a slab of concrete, and bounced off of the bottom of the pool. I came up coughing and sputtering, not quite sure where I even was anymore, and the "lifeguard" lady hollering at me to get out of the pool. I found the ladder, climbed out, and informed my mom (who was laughing hysterically) that I was done. I grabbed my towel and bag of dry clothes and headed to the bathroom to change. But the fun wasn't over yet. I had noticed as soon as I got out of the pool that it felt like I had a tremendous wedgie. Upon pulling off my one-piece swimsuit, I discovered that the wedgie didn't go away. I reached around to my backside and pulled a piece of paper out of my butt. I dried off, got dressed, and went out to inform my mom of this newest development. I told her that the force of me hitting the concrete water was so strong that it had ripped the tag from the inside of my suit and forced it up into my rectum. Upon showing her the piece of paper, she laughed even harder, informing me that it wasn't the tag, but rather the piece of sanitary paper that they apparently put into the crotch region of bathing suits. I guess this was a little better than my tag theory, but not by much.
So yeah, I don't do waterslides anymore.
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