Conneaut Lake Park was the first stop on our agenda today, but we had a little bit of time to kill before it opened at noon so Henry took us on a tour of Small Town USA which culminated with stop at Linesville Spillway. There are so many carp there begging for carb-droppings that the ducks can quite literally walk on them.
It was horrifying and nasty, but I couldn’t stop watching these fish aggressively fighting each other for rolls and crust. It was intense.
The “I USED TO COME HERE ALL THE TIME WITH MY GRANDPAP IN THE 1920s, DON’T RUIN THIS BY BEING AN ASSHOLE” Frown.
My birthday weekend getaway almost didn’t happen. I joked a few days ago, albeit with a healthy scoop of bitterness, that with the way our luck has been going this year, our car would probably break down. Well, our car didn’t exactly break down, but Henry finally got off his pretend-mechanic ass and decided to check out the horrible sound the car’s been making FOR LIKE A MONTH. It turned out to be something I don’t understand that could potentially “seize up” if we drove long distance.
The good news: he could fix it himself and it wouldn’t cost much.
The bad news: he wouldn’t be able to fix it in enough time for us to go to Erie that weekend.
He informed me of this last night when I was at work and I proceeded to cry at my desk like the bitchbaby I am. But then Seri was all, “Don’t be stupid, just take one of our cars.” I kept saying no, that this was Henry’s problem to solve, but Seri can be very convincing. If it weren’t for her generosity, I wouldn’t have been able to walk around a creepy, half-abandoned amusement park; visit a Victorian Perambulator Museum; argue with Henry for two hours over where to eat for dinner; or watch a school of fish hungrily flex their gaping maws like a sea of Jersey Shore kookas ready for a post-Karma feeding.