It’s been over a month since this wondrous event happened, I’m not sure I will ever be able to do it justice now. There’s just too much that has been going on since that day and it kept getting pushed to the backburner; completely unacceptable. But there are pictures and I really want to post them, so I will do my best.
First Stop: DelGrosso’s
All you really need to know about DelGrosso’s is that I got really fucking sick. I had just rode back-to-back spinny rides with Chooch, Laura and Janna (one of which was the Tilt-a-Whirl, and Chooch and I kept laughing because Janna rode alone; I am raising my child right, in case you haven’t noticed) before agreeing immediately to ride this thing called the Casino with Chooch.
Laura and Janna opted out.
First, Chooch and I had to stand next to an unoccupied seat, waiting for the girl running the ride to help us unlatch it while everyone who was already situated stared at us like they couldn’t believe it was our first time at an amusement park. The girl kept getting distracted, or she was just pointedly ignoring us, who knows; but I should have taken it as a sign and walked away.
Instead, we stood there like idiots until the door was unlatched for us (there were like, three whole steps to unlock it; no way would I have ever cracked that code) and then within one and half revolutions, I felt my equilibrium throat-fucking me.
Really, it wasn’t so bad: just some slight undulating motions as the roulette wheel spun us around, but then, joy of joys, it went BACKWARDS.
And that is where my first trimester of pregnancy came back to haunt me. I instinctively reached into my pocket for a peppermint disc, but I didn’t have any on account that I am not actually pregnant anymore.
Oh, look at Little Miss Thrill Ride Queen, nearly barfing all over the occupants of the Casino.
One more revolution, and it would have been that puking scene in Problem Child all up in DelGrosso’s.
After the ride ended and we waited to be released from our maximum security cell, Chooch skipped off into the horizon while I staggered slowly after him, finally nailing the zombie gait that I so pathetically pantomimed during my zombie self-defense class last spring.
Without a word to Janna, Laura and Henry, I slowly took a supine position on a bench.
“Maybe the train will be a nice break for you,” Laura suggested, so we all got in line for the most lamest amusement park train ride of all time. We didn’t make it on right away and had to stay in line for one more go-around. I considered sliding down the wall into a heap of sweat, stomach acid and minced stomach lining instead of standing with everyone else.
I was that nauseated that even standing was giving me the spins.
However, I was not too nauseated to laugh evilly when an older woman got out of her seat before the train started to take a picture of her family, only to lose her balance and fall back into the seat, sprawling across her embarrassed husband’s lap and absolutely cracking the fuck out of her shin.
It was a pure delight to witness. I guess it wasn’t all that exciting though because Laura and Janna admitted afterward that they must have missed it. It gave me tears, that’s how much I enjoyed myself.
The train ride did not help my churning stomach. I clutched the front of the seat with whitened knuckles, wishing the sunshine would un-blanch my complexion instead of coaxing the bile up my throat.
Afterward, I waved the white flag and collapsed on a bench. I urged Henry to take Chooch to kiddieland and encouraged Janna and Laura to ride the Crazy Mouse again without me.
“Don’t worry about me,” I moaned in the stoic tone of a fallen soldier. “I’ll be fine.” And then I wept behind the privacy of my sunglasses.
Everyone rejoined me after about 15 minutes and I decided that I needed to try and eat, so we all trooped back over to the food area, where Chooch and I sat alone on a bench, me with my head between my knees.
“Let’s go on the Wacky Worm again,” Chooch cheered.
I started to say, but then on second thought, I said, “Yeah, OK. Let’s do it.” And damn if that fucking ride didn’t make me feel better.
“Where were you?” Henry said when we found him holding a plate of pizza.
“On the Wacky Worm!” I shouted happily.
“But you’re sick…” he started.
“NOT ANYMORE, MOTHERFUCKER!”
Laura and Henry both wore black shirts because they’re in a pigment race gang.
We rode the Wacky Worm one more time before we left, while Henry stood sullenly off to the side and stared with disapproval.
“So, what did you think of the Wacky Worm?” I interrogated Laura on the way back to the car.
“It’s a…ride,” she answered uncertainly.
I’ll say! THE BEST RIDE EVER!