My trip to Water Country was kind of a blur; literally, because I decided to leave my glasses with my bag. But also, the whole thing was also kind of surreal too.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Several weeks ago, a female friend of mine, who is, unfortunately, just a friend, invited me to join her and a group of her friends at Water Country. I hadn’t been there since I was a wee lad, so I eagerly accepted. However, as the day drew near, I began to feel very self conscious about what I looked like without a shirt. Frankly, it was scary. I was both white as a sheet and, though it may be hard to believe if you know me, slightly pudgy in the middle. I looked like Mr. Peanut, dipped in white-out.
I tried to fit solutions for both problems into my daily routine. Almost every morning from the time I was invited until the final day I did one or more sit-ups. My lack of resolve in exercise was matched only by my dire fear of taking my shirt off in public. I did not manage to get a tan by laying in the patch of sun that came through my window only between the hours of 9:00AM and 10:30AM on weekends.
So the day came and I had not managed to shed a single love handle or gain more than a slight tan on my left arm from driving (which, of course, was only between my sleeve and my wrist, where it formed a nice tan line in the shape of my watch).
I reluctantly packed my sunblock, towel, and Lactaid pills, along with directions to the park which I had printed from the website (which was kind of funny; the last time I was at Water Country, the internet hadn’t been invented yet).
This led to my other lingering question going in: what would I do with my glasses? The website said that I could buy a glasses strap at the gift shop, so that I might wear my spectacles on any ride. Now, I didn’t know who else was going to be there, but I was concerned enough about looking like a dork in front of my lovely female friend that I knew I was going to be going blind that day.
But again, I’m getting ahead of myself.
I arrived and met my friend at the group entrance, and then met her friends. Collectively, they were America AuPair; a lovely collection of young women from across the globe who had volunteered to work with children in America so that they may learn more about this strange and exotic country. They were beautiful, fit, tanned girls from Thailand, Korea, Brazil, and many other countries throughout the world.
I didn’t know if it was happiness, or the fear of taking my shirt off in front of these girls, but I damn near crapped myself.
I was one of two men among the nine or so women. I’ve worked with odds like that before and always managed to crap out, so I didn’t assume there was anything was in my favor. The other man there was named, Robert, I think; the boyfriend of one of the slender European girls. Robert was tanned and ripped. He made me look like toothpick. Aside from that though, he was a nice guy.
We put our valuables in a single group locker and picked a spot by the main pool to leave our towels and shirts and whatnot. The rest of the group stripped down to bikinis and I was doing my best not to freak out for a number of reasons. It was the moment of truth. I hesitated before stripping down to my swim trunks, busy formulating white-boy jokes about myself that I could use once I was exposed.
I sucked in my stomach and disrobed. There wasn’t a scene. At first I broke the ice with a few zingers like, “If you get lost, just look for the bright white light, that’ll be me.” I think that let people know that I was aware of my shortcomings. They now knew I had a good sense of humor about it, and they didn’t have to look away like I was missing chunks of my torso from a bear attack or something. There was the occasional “Damn!” or, “I really hope you’ve got sunblock,” but at that point it was all in good fun.
And I did indeed have sunblock. Every year I manage to forget what SPF value I should get. Because I burn so easily, I decided to err on the side of safety this year and get a high number. I forget the exact value, but I think it was just below Kevlar on the sun-blocking chart. I don’t remember ever being very tan, but I do remember being very burned, so I applied it as liberally as I could.
I also made the difficult decision to leave my glasses with my bag. This gave everything a Gaussian blur that intensified a little bit with distance, but never so bad that I couldn’t make out color and movement in the distance. This was a little disappointing because looking at my AuPairs was more difficult without the glasses. It was as if I was watching a swimsuit special in high definition, then switching over to regular tube TV with cheese cloth over it. Furthermore, I became less adept at interpreting signals. How would I know of a girl was making flirty eyes at me, or if she was just trying to figure out where that blinding white glare was coming from?
Our first stop as a group was the slide I could remember refusing to go on as a child; Geronimo. I could have easily passed on it this time. Of our group, only three of us chose to try it, including myself. But, I was interested in conquering some old demons, so I thought I’d give it a shot. I didn’t share this information with anyone. I was doing this for me… and to look manly.
For those of you who don’t know Water Country, Geronimo is one of those slides where you drop almost straight down before gradually leveling off and stopping in a trough. If you have the opportunity to try one of the slides, pass.
The line for Geronimo was short. Too short. I had second thoughts about the whole thing before I even reached the top of the stairs. “I bet this’ll be the shortest line all day.” I mused aloud to break the tension that probably only I was feeling.
At the top of Geronimo they lay you down and instruct you to cross your legs and cross your arms across your chest (probably so they don’t have to pose you for the funeral after you die on this slide). Once the person who went before you has left (or been carried from) the trough, they push you forward like a curling stone and you pray to whatever God you think might keep you pressed against that slide. I had my eyes closed, which may have killed some of the thrill, but was fortunate because once you level off, you get gallons of water pumped forcefully into your face. It was like water skiing with my ass cheeks. I stopped at the bottom with no injuries, but about 16 fl oz of water up my nose.
I stumbled out of the trough thinking about being a little boy, being deathly afraid of this ride called Geronimo. You know what. I was right. That sucked. Who the fuck invented that thing?
We made the circuit of slides and attractions throughout the day. Everyone in the group was so nice and pleasant and attractive. I was totally out of my element. I made pleasant conversation where I could, but I don’t know if I made any lasting friendships. Perhaps it’s lack of self confidence that kept me from being more outgoing.
The weather was ideal and the sun was always out. This was fortunate because we spent a lot of time in waiting lines. It’s hard to say how long we spent in the average line, but one of the newest attractions had one of those, “The wait is about 60 minutes from here,” signs which, frankly, I would be better off not knowing. The rides, though very fun, each only lasted about 15 to 30 seconds, which is really absurd when you think about it. I suppose we made the best of our waiting time, just chatting and tanning (or, in my case, burning).
We had reached the wave pool towards the end of our trip. I personally never saw the appeal in it, but everyone in the group wanted to go. In fact, everyone in the park wanted to go. The wave pool was packed to capacity. Giant waves of people obscured the water underneath. We did our best to get into deep water, but past the 4 feet mark, I felt like I was playing bumper cars with my head. “Here comes a wave! Oof!” inner tube, “Oop!” small child, “Ouch” another inner tube, “Oy!” a fat woman.
At the end of the day we gathered our stuff, said our friendly goodbyes, and went our different ways. I had not tanned, although I was showing redness on my shoulders. True to form, by the time I got home and took a shower, the redness was more apparent in the places I had missed putting sunblock; obscure and exotic places like the sides of my feet, the small of my back, and the backs of my fingers.
If this was the kind of story that had a moral, it would be this: Be confident. You never know when you’re going to be one of only two guys at a waterpark with a group of foreign women.
