Lol. Possibly in my Top 5 Worst Blog Titles Ever.
I recently had this urge to visit Laurel Caverns, especially after Chooch said he didn’t remember anything about his last two visits other than Henry wouldn’t let us play mini-golf while we were there. So I decided what better way to honor the war people than by skulking around inside a cave-thing.
This meant that for the second straight year, we were going to miss the lame Memorial Day parade that clunks and trips past our house every year. We were mildly sad about that because it’s entertaining for all the wrong reasons, but caverns trump* lame parades.
*(Gonna have to find a new word to use next time. Don’t want to dumb down this blog anymore than it already is.)
Somehow, we were all in a good mood even though we were leaving the house before 10AM which usually entails tons of whining and snapping at Henry.
But we managed to have a nice, leisurely drive to the Laurel Highlands (a little over an hour’s drive, I think). And when I say leisurely, I mean that Henry is now officially one of those old people who gets passed by every single car on the highway.
“I’M ALREADY GOING OVER THE SPEED LIMIT!
WHAT DO THESE PEOPLE WANT FROM ME?!” he yelled when I pointed this out to him.
I was happy to see that the parking lot for the Caverns wasn’t too full, which lowered the odds of having douchebags in our group.
“Remember the last time we were here when I was making fun of those people—” I started to say as we walked to the main building.
“When don’t you make fun of people?” Chooch interrupted at the same time Henry said, “That could be anywhere.”
We paid for our admission and milled about the gift shop for just five minutes before the next tour was ready to embark. I was sad because the observatory deck was cordoned off!
It’s ritual to go out there and take pictures but NOT ON THIS DAY, I guess.
As soon as our tour was called over the speaker, I got a surge of giddiness coursing through my veins. There is just something about being underground that makes me lose control of my behavior. Memories of acting like an asshole with my Girl Scout troop come flooding back; and the time we were there with the French exchange student who was living with us and my dad’s godson fell so my dad started calling him Bobo Bobolinksi (for whatever reason, this made tons of sense at the time); or the time Corey and I went there and photo-stalked some yuppie couple we hated.
Laurel Caverns is just the best! It’s the ultimate funnybone activator for me because I’m an asshole.
Almost immediately, I imprinted on our guide. He had the most adorably sardonic science-y sense of humor and I was ready to lead him down some dark, unexplored part of the cavern where we could start our own society IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
And if you don’t, I mean that I was prepared to have all of his babies.
BEING ON TOURS IGNITES MY IMAGINATION, OK.
We were in a group of maybe 15 people so it wasn’t too bad, and no one blatantly stood out and begged to be mocked, so that was good but also kind of boring because what am I supposed to do if I can’t be a lowkey dick?
OH THAT’S RIGHT, THINK ABOUT POPULATING THE CAVERN WITH MY TOUR GUIDE OFFSPRING.
Rocks.
More rocks.
Even more rocks still.
There’s a joke here somewhere about us being dumb as rocks.
Chooch spent most of the time walking ahead of us and trying to latch on to other families. That’s what he’s best at. Always looking for the better option.
The last several times we visited, we learned about the terrible bat crisis. Our guide (I can’t believe I don’t know his name, by the way) was telling us that in 2007 or something, they counted over 12,000 hibernating bats in the cave, and this past year it was down to 12.
No, I didn’t accidentally omit any zeros. That’s a 12. A 1-2. One and a two.
TWELVE.
Twelve bats! That’s it!
“Did they like, migrate?” some dumb broad asked.
“Oh no, they’re dead,” our guide said matter-of-factly, causing us to laugh, not because a dying breed is hilarious, but because his delivery was perfect.
This part of the tour kills me every time. I AM SO SAD FOR THE BATS!!
As everyone filed out of the cavern after the hour-long tour, I blurted out, “You’re the best guide I’ve ever had!
” and then promptly ran away as he was stammering to thank me.
“I totally have a crush on him,” I squealed when he was out of earshot.
“Ugh, I knew it,” Chooch said with disgust and Henry just sighed, “Of course you do.”
I DON’T THINK HE WAS WEARING A WEDDING BAND AND GUESS WHAT NEITHER AM I.
Afterward, we played a round of mini-golf and I MURDERED the competition. It was almost sickening how good I was, and Chooch and Henry were so annoyed. Especially Henry, since he’s accustomed to being “the best” at mini-golf because he’s usually the only one who tries but I was succeeding purely off luck and shit-shots.
I love winning! I love being me!
There was some little bitch and her mom behind us (they weren’t on our tour) and she kept starting the hole while we were still on it and her mom was barely scolding her! And she kept calling her mom “Mother!” which was really grating my nerves. Stop encroaching on our game!
After Laurel Caverns, we drove home through Uniontown while blasting kpop and garnering confused looks from people at every red light we stopped at.
I’ve driven through Uniontown a million times in my lifetime, and even dated a guy from there for about 3 years, but I have never actually walked around it. The downtown area is so cute!
We ate at Randall’s on the way home. I had a grilled cheese and felt myself getting immediately fat like I do when I stray from my K-diet. Henry and I had coleslaw and it was too mayo-y.
Afterward, we went to Bill’s for ice cream. I was mad because I was forced to order abruptly without adequate menu-gazing time. I piggybacked off of Henry’s “small twist with crunchies” order BUT IT WASN’T WHAT I WANTED.
I was unsatisfied.
Then Henry went back inside to pee and in that short amount of time, Chooch got in a fight about something that I can’t even remember now and spent the whole car ride home not speaking.
THIS WAS RIGHT BEFORE THE FIGHT.
We’re OK now, don’t worry. I’m still a mom, I guess.
Well, now you know how we spent our Memorial Day. It was fine. The Penguins won the first game of the Stanley Cup finals later that night so that was a good ending!
As you were.