If you look closely, you can see the exorcised demon expelling from Chooch’s gaping maw.
After Chooch’s heat meltdown, the rest of the day was pretty awesome. We even got him to eat some more!
Eating a corn dog and not being a dickhead.
Buying a lemonade and still being a dickhead.
Meanwhile, Laura was going on and on about finding the vendor building and I was like, “I have no interest in that, but fine.” So we found it and of course Chooch went straight for the booth stacked with breakable merchandise. Mike and Laura were standing closer to him than I was so I figured I could jsut run really fast if he broke anything and leave them to clean up the mess.
And then the perfectly-timed storm began. (Literally.) I had little interest in the wares being shilled beneath the metal structure, but at least we had shelter!
While Henry and I were standing near the doorway, watching the rain, a middle-aged man started making small talk with us. The next thing I knew, I was answering his inquiry about whether or not I have ever visited Williamsburg with a very thoughtful response of, “You know, I have, but it has been a REALLY long time.” And just like that, he had me hook, line and sinker. Or whatever that phrase is. I’m not a fisherman.
I quickly noticed that he was sitting in front of a huge advertisement panel for some resort in Williamsburg, Virginia and really, what the fuck interest do I have in Williamsb—oh wait, BUSCH GARDENS, MOTHAFUCKA. So we’re chatting it up about some restaurant called Captain George’s that has the best seafood buffet in the history of public gluttony and Henry’s being asked in five different ways if he fishes or golfs and I realized that, oh shit, this is some timeshare bullshit, Henry’s not going to go for that.
But Henry was still standing there. And if Henry’s still standing there, well, maybe there’s a future vacation in this.
And the more this dude babbled on about Busch Gardens and all of the things within driving distance of Williamsburg (because do I look like a history buff?), the more my eyes began to light up with hope and opportunity.
Then his partner, this mouthy little troll bitch, interjected and granted, she was actually telling us about important things and you know, showing us pictures of the resort and explaining the free incentives, but damn, she was annoying.
“Did you show them pictures of the resort?” she asked the guy.
“Did you tell them about the Busch Garden ticket upgrades?”
“Did you tell them the price?”
And this went on for a few more seconds until she finally realized she had to back up and give us the whole presentation. When she held up the Captain George menu, the other dude spoke up and said, “Oh, I already told them about that!” and then he smiled proudly and shook his head, probably thinking about the last time he shucked an oyster up in Captain George’s.
Then Laura and Mike drifted on over at the perfect moment and we wound up with A FREE UPGRADE TO A TWO BEDROOM COTTAGE THAT’S WHAT’S UP! Thank you, Mike and Laura, for standing next to us right when this broad was trying to close a deal! You are welcome to come shack up in our complimentary second bedroom upgrade!
So, for what it would cost for one night, we get 4 days and 3 nights in this beautiful resort and all Henry has to do is suffer through a 90 minute time share presentation while Chooch and I go swimming or maybe play MINI GOLF, because THEY HAVE MINI GOLF ON THE GROUNDS.
I was waiting for Henry to snort and say, “Fuck no.” But instead, he looked at me and said, “Whatever you want to do.” You know what I want to do? I want to go to fucking Williamsburg, bitches! So that’s what we will be doing sometime in the next two years, but I’m thinking next August because we wanted to take a road trip to Georgia anyway (OCTAVIA. JENNY. YOU ARE DOOMED.) and this was like a sign from the county fair rain gods.
But do you see what I mean? Why is Henry being so nice!? He’s either cheating on me or hustling molly.
I’m really excited to go to Captain George’s too. I mean, how can I not go there now!?
Afterward, Laura and I were about to ride the Zipper when some bitch PUKED on it. So they had to shut the ride down for maintenance, and by that I mean they had to fetch a hose.
So instead of waiting, we had possibly the worst idea of the day and decided to ride the Orbiter instead. I know I’ve been on this ride before, I feel just as recently as the last two years, but I don’t remember it dropping me back off to earth with a thick film of terror upon on my face. Perhaps if I had paid attention while previously loitering in that vicinity throughout the day, I might have noticed that the primary direction of this fucker is BACKWARD which is never a good look for my visage. Needless to say, I walked—-nay, staggered—around looking like I was wearing Cover Girl foundation in Green Around the Gills from their new infirmary line.
Post-Orbiter nausea models. OMG I’m getting sick all over again just looking at this. I honestly don’t know how I carried on after this.
Oh wait, yeah I do….
PUMPKIN FUNNEL CAKE, YOU GUYS. Pumpkin funnel cake. Good lord. I don’t even typically care for regular funnel cake! But this was the fucking shit, like warm squirts of half-baked pumpkin donut on a paper plate with some kind of maple glaze on it. I have been trying to get invited to pumpkin funnel cake dinner parties ever since, but I think this is something that doesn’t exist.
Someone buy Henry a fucking funnel cake machine thing!
Chooch put these little clown fuckers to work to the point where I felt obliged to give him money to donate. My favorite part was when he went back for the third time and said, “My mom wants something scary.” So they made a bumblebee for him to give me. Then Laura wanted one so Chooch went back and was like, “Now this other bitch wants a bumblebee too, good job.”
Ugh, this is the ride that almost took me out as soon as we arrived that day! Fuck you, Rock Star.
Other highlights include Chooch flipping the fuck out on Bozo, the asshole clown who perches in the dunk tank, shouting disparaging remarks to people as they walk past. I remember last year, I was there with a temporary friend* and Bozo made her cry. I was all, “OMG he sucks” but in hindsight, I’m like “Fuck yes, Team Bozo.”
*(I dislike fake bitches.)
Anyway, Chooch ran up to him at one point and told him to fuck off. I was kind of hoping he would say something back to Chooch, because it would have been pretty fun to watch Chooch’s wrath open up the gates to Hell. But I guess Bozo must not be allowed to yell at kids. I’d make a pretty piss poor Bozo, then.
While standing in line for the Ferris wheel, we were treated with not one, but TWO dunkings of Bozo! It was sublime. However, my Bozo highlight was when some dude whaled a ball at the target only for it to ricochet back and hit his little girl right in the head. Damn, dude. You let your little girl take hits for you?
By the time the night was over, we were all lobsterfied and exhausted, but (with the exception of Chooch’s meltdown) I think it’s safe to say we all had a good time. I’m glad Laura and Mike got to experience it before they move! :(
The next morning, Henry woke up and said, “Who the fuck goes to the county fair and spends [undisclosed amount]?!” I panicked for a second, thinking that he was going to try to sell this amazing vacation package to one of the dicks at his job, but then I showed him videos from the resort and he calmed down.
“That is a pretty good deal,” he murmured. All I know is, we have unlimited years of non-vacationing to make up for, so look out Williamsburg and wherever else I become suddenly obsessed with for no real reason.