The further I move into the semester, the more I wish it were summer break again.
After the excitement for a new school year has simmered down, I find myself reminiscing about what I could be doing, not what I should be doing.
Sleeping in, vacations to the beach and lying out by the pool are all major things I look forward to when temperatures rise. However, one activity I have learned to proceed with caution toward is amusement parks.
When I was a kid, these parks were like a second home. Now that I’m older, I have acquired some personal opinions about these parks that I was too naïve to notice as a child.
Most people can relate to the dangers of the wave pool. Who wouldn’t want to venture into a pool of strangers where monstrous waves continuously come crashing down? Not to mention while walking across a jagged ground.
Let’s face it: There is no mercy when it comes to the wave pool, especially for girls in bikinis.
I remember always seeing globs of snot, bits of hair and Band-Aids floating around in the water. I never realized it was acceptable to expose personal hygiene in a containment of people.
And who could forget the embarrassment of rising up under the obese and hairy men on an inflatable tube?
It is unbelievable how little I was affected by some places at amusement parks. I have discovered restrooms are, without a doubt, the worst.
I never noticed how gloomy and sinister they always look inside. It’s like walking into a
dragon’s lair — only the other side doesn’t contain a fire-breathing beast. No, it’s much more horrific than that.
The smell is what hits me first. A mixture of prickly chlorine water and decrepit toilets fill my nostrils. The stalls look like they were thrown together out of cardboard boxes, and the tiled floors contain a thick layer of who-knows-what.
My advice: Ladies, always put toilet paper down on the lid before releasing any bodily fluids. Men, please try not to miss the urinal. For both genders, never walk into a public restroom barefoot.
With roller coasters, I’ve noticed my body doesn’t recover quite as well as it did when I was eight. My bones feel like they are going to shatter and my head will explode from all the pressure.
Plus it’s comforting to know the weak-threaded band across my waist will prevent me from flying out of my seat.
I have learned to never go on a roller coaster by myself. Not for fear, but for the fact that I always seemed to get stuck next to some weeping child.
By the way, who thought it was a good idea to place cameras at inconvenient points during the ride? The pictures always end up revealing a blob of crazed faces and disfigured proportions.
In the end, I find these snapshots to be useful for blackmailing purposes only.
For now, I will proceed with care when it comes to theme parks.
I never want to encounter that plump man on his raft or witness someone in the bathroom without sandals.
Then again, I’m not about to get my hopes up just yet.
By CLAIRE MUNN
Features Editor
clamunn@umail.iu.edu