jynxed's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ass fault "We lead our lives like water flowing down a hill, "Here I sit, same as ever, So, Last week, I broke my ass. Seriously. See, since my sister and her kids were in town, Amanda and I took them all to Knott's Soak City, the waterslide park here in Chula Vista. Now, I haven't been to a water park since about 1988, and I'm not exactly as young and lithe as I used to be. Let's be frank: when I wear my bathing suit, I look like an egg wearing black shorts. I'm the poor pathetic ice cream dude from Lilo and Stitch. But I tell you, if you're a dude, and you dig chicks, water parks are some pretty amazing places. I couldn't believe the girls wandering around like puffy love dolls in bikinis and butt floss. Truly, a staggering experience. What does this all have to do with me breaking my ass? Nothing, yet. Hold you horses, sheesh. We spent the first hour entertaining my nieces, taking them to the kiddie slides and the play area. The play area is pretty neat for a sick twisted puppy like me, as it has hoses and nozzles that you can control. So, some innocent little doe-eyed tyke walks up the stairs, what do you do? I'll tell you what you do: You grab the lever and give it a good yank, turning on the firehose that blasts the poor kid back about twenty feet. And then you cackle like the spawn of Satan evil sumbitch you are. Muah ha ha! Yeah, I did. I think the kids' play area is more fun for adults than it is for the little ones. But karma, man. Karma. Amanda and I hit some of the larger slides then, the kind where you ride a tube down. Those are fun and were faster than I expected. Naturally, having not been to a water park in well over a decade, I didn't understand the proper weight shift upon hitting the pool at the bottom, and managed to flip the bastard over. I swear I heard the lifeguard laughing. Lifeguard. That's a joke. All throughout the park, there were signs insisting that you follow the instructions of the lifeguards, telling you that they are highly trained and whatnot. What kind of training do you need to wade out into a three-feet deep pool and pick up a screaming kid? Highly trained, my ass. My broken ass. After a few runs down the tube slides, Amanda took my nieces to the wave pool, and my sister and I hit the body slides. These are the slides I'm used to, and despite being fun, I remembered why I don't like them as much as I used to. See, in the "Good Old Days" (and also, by a false-advertising sort of coincidence on their television commercials), you could go down these body slides head-first. That was fun. Barrelling down the half-pipe, swallowing gallons of water and hitting the pool at the bottom with enough force to rip your trunks right off. Those were the days, man. Now, due to the tiny-brained lawsuit-happy morons who are taking over your planet, we're forced to lie down, cross our legs at the ankles, and fold our arms over our chests. Any resemblence to fun is immediately sucked out of your ass sideways as you realize you look like a blasted Egyptian mummy. King Tut was a waterslidin' motherfucker, man. Back in the day, you could at least sit up, sometimes getting to ride little foam mats down the slides. Fun. Now, though, you lay down on your back, fold your limbs in, and slide down the tube like those old-fashioned vacuum tubes they used to have at banks. Do you have a withdrawl slip? *whoosh!* Here's your mummy. As in everything else, the morons have fucked up fun for the rest of us, and we didn't find the body slides too appealing. Thanks guys. The best part of those slides, now that you have to lay down, is every three or four feet, there's a joint, which lovingly rips about ten layers of skin off your shoulderblades. When you talking about a hundred of these damned joints down the right, you're usually surprised there's any of you left by the time you get to the pool. They ought to name those body slides with appropriate names, such as "CHEESE GRATER." So my sister decided to hit the BIG body slides. The high-thrills chutes that you have to climb Mt. Freakin' Everest to get to. Now, I'm not much of a thrill seeker (unless said thrills involve being locked in a room with a team of limber kung fu cheerleaders who bear a surprising resemblance to Natalie Portman and Elisha Cuthbert), so I wasn't all that keen on this whole deal. But I have a dwindling macho fascade to maintain, so I grudgingly followed my sister up the stairs of Mount Ohshit. Heather, being pretty much fearless, hopping right down one of the red slides and went straight down her little suicide plunge. The guys at the bottom said she caught air on the second hump, and I don't doubt it. Meanwhile, I shuffled over to the enclosed tube and sat down on the edge. Inside, the water echoed in the pitch black darkness. It didn't look all that scary, and couldn't be much different than the shoulder-blade ripping slides we had just been on, right? Sure. So I crossed my ankles, and folded my arms and did a little butt-scoot to ease me into the tube. Two seconds later, I was at the bottom, coughing and swearing and sure that I had lost my contact somewhere en route. But it was fun, I'll have to admit. But I still hadn't broken my ass. We ate a snack, pretzels for the adults, churros for the kids, and Amanda took the girls back to the kids' area. Heather and I went down the tube slides a few times, then she wanted to hit the big mofos again. Stupid me, I agreed. Again, she threw herself down the slide with a fearlessness that the most grizzled of daredevils would envy, and again I shuffled over to one of the tubes. This particular one was called "Bonzai!" and already I had forgotten that the first ride was, in fact, fun. I stepped into the small entry pool area and stood in front of the tube. Bonzai! begins with about a ten-foot drop into darkness, straight down. I swallowed hard. "Go," the (hot) lifeguard chick said, and I shifted my weight. I noticed something at that point. A giant egg wearing black board short swim trunks came flying out the bottom of the tube, spewing out a huge splash of water. He was holding his ass and looked like he had been given some mad hurt. He yelled up at me, but I couldn't hear him with the woosh of water being guzzled down the black gaping mouth in front of me. My first thought was "Holy shit, I'm going to hit that guy!" and then I was falling. By shifting my weight, my feet slid out from underneath me, and I fell straight down, landing dead on my ass. Hard. Fucking hard. I felt my spine rip out through the top of my head at the exact instant that I realized that when my ass had hit the bathtub-like bottom of the entry pool, I had literally bounced into the tube and was currently plummeting to my doom at a bajillion miles per hour in complete darkness. My lips formed the words "JESUS CHRIST!" but I left them back in the darkness and they still haven't caught up to me yet. About one-tenth of a second had gone by, and I realized something very troublesome. Very soon, I would hit the deeper water at the bottom of the tube and in my current, flailing-limbs state, would either incur the mother of all enemas or have my balls permanently lodged in my throat as I hit end of the ride at MACH 5. Meanwhile, as I whooshed through the tube, rapidly approaching the speed of light, I had to spit out crunchy shards of my broken tailbone, and I realized that I was going fast enough to actually go back in time. I had seen myself come out of the tube before I had gone in, which, in a Marty McFly sort of way means there was some great paradox in the space-time continuum and the universe is, inexplicably, fucked. I struggled to cross my ankles and to hell with my arms, and decided that if I died, I could at least tell Einstein that he was right. This must be what it feels like to get flushed down an airplane toilet. And then SPLASH! I hit the bottom and immediately clutched my ass. I tried to yell up at myself, to tell me to watch my fucking step, but it was no good. That dumb bastard fell anyway. And now, over a week later, I have to be very careful about not leaning back too far on my ass, because it still hurts like hell. Water parks, man. What a pain in the ass. 9:30 a.m. - August 06, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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