A few weeks ago my dream came true. And yes, I did go to Kings Dominion. And yes, that was my dream. Throughout my 10 year amusement park hiatus I felt as though I was really missing out. I mean fun, adventure, shitty expensive food, people in wet t-shirts that you don’t want to see in wet t-shirts, giant stuffed things, games, adventure and fun again were all only 2 hours away – why the fuck wasn’t I in it? I now know why – it’s really not that cool.
A few things came up when deciding where to go – actually only two. 1) I wasn’t going to Six Flags even though it was ten times closer because quite frankly, I think it’s a fucking liability, and I definitely don’t like that old dancing man in their ads. 2) I only do luxury boats. Kings Dominion is the luxury boat of amusement parks. (what?)
A few things to keep in mind for anyone planning a visit:
(1) Find the Correct Entrance. I somehow managed to enter the park from the back. This was no easy task because EVERYTHING is clearly marked and directional signage is phenomenal. By doing so, I found the park employee entrance and pulled up to a guy standing in the middle of a random asphalt entrance and whipped out my pre-printed parking pass and ID.
“Hello, here is my parking pass and my ID.” (I have no idea why I showed him my ID – maybe because the cars in front of us were showing their actual employee badges…..I dunno.)
“Hello. Are you a employee here?”
“Well, no but I have this parking pass. See here is the date and the confirmation number.”
I pointed to today’s date and also to the long number at the bottom. The man looked at me like I had nipples for eyes.
“Okay….but this is the employee entrance….how did you even get here?”
I smiled, popped a u-ey and high tailed out of there. I didn’t feel like explaining what an idiot I was and there was really no explanation.
(2) Timing Is important. For us, it was opening weekend and we wanted to get there butt early so we did BUTT it was too early and we arrived even before the parking lot was open. We thought the cashier lady was just taking a really long time to collect money from the cars but we were in a line of people who just parked in front of the park to get the best parking (park, parking, park, park). I had already paid for and printed out my parking ticket so I didn’t even need any of dat shiatt. Being that early is just stupid so we left to get Chik-fil-A. When we got back the parking attendants were letting people in. Yes! this would be the appropriate time to source my parking pass. I handed it to the gentlemen and he said thank you and raised the electronic bar partition.
“Don’t I need a ticket from you or anything to put on my windshield?”
To which he responded, “??????” “No. You just go in now…”
We zoomed up to the front, parked, and then stood in line again by foot because this time the parking lot was open but the actual park wasn’t. 15 minutes later we were granted access and thought to take a photo at the entrance which is seen below. I have no idea who the child is.
(3) Ride choice and Sequence. Upon finally entering, the game plan was to head straight to the back of the park to work in the opposite direction of everyone else (fucking genius). Also, the back of the park is where all the really heady rides are too (heady is my new cool word that I now overuse). In a record 35 minutes, we had gone on the Volcano, the Blast Coaster, Anaconda, Flight of Fear, Scrambler, and the Hurler. The only time we had to wait was on the Volcano when an adult male had puked while on the ride which meant twelve hours of decontamination. He continued puking over the railing when he got off as his suffocating girlfriend rubbed his back. The comments and jabs that came from the other riders was unbelievable to the point where some middle schoolers were yelling, “He hasn’t even gone yet!” “Pussy” “Fucking Light Weight” “Idiot!” I’m not sure why he’s an idiot but you get the point – it was brutal. We jumped on one more so we would beat the lines heading our way and we chose the Intimidator 305. This reckless metal destroyer goes 305 feet and 90 mph making it one of the tallest and fastest coasters in the world. All I know is we blacked out afterwards with severe migraines and complete loss of equilibrium. Feeling extremely ill, we took a nap in a flower bed in Candy Apple Grove which was delightful.
(4) Ride the Water Log. The whole time. I must say the most pleasant experience of the trip was the water log ride. It involves everything that is good.
Your transportation is a hollowed out log.
Yes, fantastic choice. Check.
You get whisked away to an old mining town.
Love a vintage theme. Check.
Water gently splashes when your log turns a corner.
Water spritzes? Refreshing and delightful. Check.
There are absolutely zero surprises.
Predictable log. I love you. Check.
After the log ride we thought to head over to the Water Park to continue with our tranquil water state. We walked around a bit and saw some lawn chairs by the side of the Lazy River. There was nothing lazy about that river. It looked hectic as hell. We sat down next to an intercom that was yelling the rules of the Lazy River into our faces every 3 minutes. Regardless, we both passed out. I had dreams of being on the log river and mining gold. Two hours later we awoke from slumber – we decided that we should head home and could probably just sleep there. So basically, we went to Kings Dominion and slept.
You wear a backpack on the bus. (everyone hates you…even the driver.)
Your umbrella pokes them in the face and you carry on unknowingly
You use the last of anything (milk, toilet paper, spicy chipotle mayo…etc..)
You sneeze (anytime, ever – death stares.)
You call someone and they call you right back and YOU don’t answer ….
You ask more than one question – ever.
You eat most of the tapas plate that you didn’t even order
You don’t know what you want to order when you get to the front of the line
You stand right at the bottom of an escalator.
You’re in the returns line to return things like paper towels, SwifterJet refills, or gum
You fuck with Puss in Boots….
Well, I actually have no idea what a day in the life of an optometrist is like – I was only there for a few hours but I can imagine it revolves around a lot of eye-ball-talk. As per usual, any visit to a specialist for me means embarrassment, some kind of injury, and never being able to go back to same doctor/office again – this visit would no different.
I’m getting old and my eyes aren’t seeing as they once did. I can’t read menus that are posted on walls (extremely important) and I definitely cant see people that I know walking towards me until they were right in front of me which is startling as fuck. At any rate, I needed to get new glasses. My parents have been pushing the Costco optometrist for weeks now claiming he’s some kind of wonder boy. The offer to get an eye exam and free food samples is all very tempting but they were always booked when I tried to make an appointment – leaving me to believe in his wonder- boyness.
Being the adult that I am, (whaddup!?), I made an appointment with MyEyeDr (they weren’t mine at all but they force you to say that). It would be in the late afternoon of new years eve and the store was bustling. So much so that when I arrived there were like five people waiting around the front desk. No one wore anything to differentiate themselves from customer to employee so my initial reaction was to talk to the first person I saw wearing glasses (I mean come on, they have to work here..) I called out, “Hey four eyes!” just kidding, I simply invaded his personal space by manhandling his right arm and taping him on the shoulder with one pointy index finger. “Hi, I’m Nina and I have an appointment at 2:30 today.” The man turned around slowly, just half way so that he was peering over the tapped right shoulder to glare at my pondering face. “Hi, I don’t work here,” he explained,*sneered and bitch smacked me with his eyes*. I looked around and realized he was the only person not busying himself with papers, sitting at a computer, or behind any kind of desk. He definitely didn’t work here. “Right, but you’re wearing glasses…?” (haha-he-ho) …..He looked up at me completely unamused….”Okay, I’ll just go over here and talk to this person, thanks!”
There were still other people standing around the desk, one guy hovering by the mint bowl and another just standing and obstructing. I didn’t want to “butt” them in line so I stood 10 yards back by myself in the middle of the store until I think finally someone felt sorry for me. Front desk lady, “Hi, excuse me miss…..can I help you with something? You’ve been in here for quite awhile.” “Oh, yes me? Thank you. So, those two aren’t waiting for anything that guy just stands there up by the mints?” I twirl my finger in his general direction while she looks at me like I have four heads. I continue anyways,”Okay, I have an appointment at 2:30 – well, I guess it’s 3:00 now but it was at 2:30 but since I’ve been standing around for 30 minutes and talking to people who don’t work here…the time is now later.” Lady just stares at me blankly, “Alright….well…I’ll just take you back for your testing now.”
I followed her into the back room with one of those folding doors that kind of look like blinds. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to close it so I accidentally unhinged the whole thing to the point where it just laid straight and would just flap around instead of closing. She asked me to please just stop touching it and sit down. Since being unhinged, the door slightly rested on my back for the duration of the exam…..which I think totally threw me off.
Anyways, when it comes to eye exams I always ask if they can make sure that the machine is at MY eye level – being tall and what not can really mess these things up unless the proper adjustments to seats and machinery are made. I went to the DMV once and their eye test was still set for someone the height of a garden gnome which meant it was just pointing at the floor, so everything I saw was black and they deemed to be completely blind. I convinced them that I wasn’t blind and told them that there must have been something wrong with the test. I wasn’t gonna let that shit happen again…. I actually ended up telling the eye test lady that story and she assured me that none of the tests would be pointing at floors. Perfect.
And so forth…the exam. So far so good. I could see the miniature farm house in the distance on a hill with the white fence. I was on one of those wheelie chairs with no backs which I find incredibly difficult to stay put on – I always accelerate with my feet too forcefully and it was time to swing over to the air puff test. I was way off and wheeled pass all of the three tests and into the wall. I readjusted myself and wheeled backwards by tiptoeing my feet ever so slightly towards the appropriate machine. I have no idea what the lady was thinking when I zoomed by her and rammed my shoulder into the far wall but it probably wasn’t anything positive.
By the way, I fucking hate the air puff test. Nothing is more traumatic than the air puff. You know it’s coming….but MY GOD it’s impossible to receive it in any kind of calm fashion. I jetted my head back and yelled, “GO’ LORD that’s one strong puff of air! Shocking really.” The lady asked me to keep still and to stop talking so much. There was one more test with a bunch of blinking red and green lights – which I totally nailed.
I feel like all of this had to have been one giant fools errand. How could any of this determine anything. Lets recap, I stared at an itty bitty house for 30 seconds, some balloon thing puffed air in my face, and I’m supposed to raise my hand when the smallest traffic light on earth blinks from red to green. If you think about it – probably the most fucked up way to spend an hour. Ever.
That part of the exam was over and I was to wait for the actual doctor back in the main area where I had spoken to a bunch of strangers moments before. I walked out like a nerd pushed into a coupled up dance floor. Timid and with the fear of peeing my pants. I teetered around the borders of the room and started to aggressively try on every pair of glasses on this giant wall. Trying on, checking in mirror, trying on, checking in mirror, and so on for the next 20 minutes until I was called back by the doctor. I turned around when I heard my name and was wearing a pair of glasses on the top my head, a pair on my face, and was holding another in my hand for quick try on convenience. I was trying on glasses as one eats at a buffets. After I de-robed via glasses face I followed the sound of my name to another room.
The optometrist was surprisingly young and tall. I knew immediately, that we would be friends. I sat in the giant chair with the archaic looking mechanism that you are supposed to put your face into with the rotating lenses. We chatted for a little about my health and what it’s like being tall women. She told me that in college she had a boyfriend who was 5’7″ and sometimes she would rest her arm on his head when she felt like leaning on something. She also told me they had since broke up – most likely because she used to rest her arm on his head. I laughed and said, “Pppsssshhhh I know right, haha short guys are the worst.” She looked at me and nodded. So, we should probably try and start the test. Great, she asked me to read the top line of letters. My voice would get really loud when I thought I got one right. And sometimes I would even raise my hand in enthusiasm for no reason at all. We joked about her maybe not being a real doctor. “Hahahaha wait, really?” The weird flipping lenses giant thing was over and now we would talk about my eye health by looking at a picture of a two pink orbs that were meant to be my eye balls.
Apparently one of those machines earlier had take pictures of my eye balls without me knowing it – I felt extremely exposed. She said everything looked really healthy and explained that all of the gross shit was normal. She asked if I ever had any headaches. I said sometimes but I’m pretty sure they’re because of dehydration (I love to self diagnose out loud). She told me that I had a slight astigmatism but it was nothing to worry about. She also explained that astigmatism only means that the eyeball is becoming more of an eye-oval. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to interject my favorite word “oblong” into the conversation. “Oh, really is that so? Very interesting – so in fact the eye is becoming somewhat of an oblong shape, is that correct?” I kind of grinned after I said it like, yes, totally worked that in. She picked up on it and asked if I tried to work that in on purpose I told her yes, yes, I did.
She agreed that it was a great word. She also said that one eye was slightly worse than the other but that was normal. I inquired about monocles just in case it should worsen. She told me a story about a guy who came in the other week and had one eye that had perfect vision and the other was all shits of crazy. He had ordered a monocle because didn’t want to deal with glasses – naturally. THEY WILL STILL MAKE MONOCLES ON REQUEST – you’re welcome for the info. I asked about pocket watches because they are kind of in the same territory as a monocles. She said I’m sure those are also available. I told her I just liked small useful things that were attached to chains. She laughed and turned to her paper to jot something down. Dammit. What the hell is she jotting down? I hate that about doctors, always jotting down judgment for later.
Now that was out of the way, I guess the exam was over and I was to go talk to a glasses sales guy to trick me into buying some ridiculously priced glasses I could find online for one tenth of the cost. I mean do I look like and idiot? (don’t answer that..). I sat down as he typed on the computer for awhile and told him what kind of glasses I liked. He said he would grab a few pairs. I followed him around while he gathered them instead of just staying seated. When we both returned I explained to him in great detail that my face was like a circle “See sir, it’s just round, just a round circle-face.” My finger just twirled around the circumference of my head to demonstrate the roundness. I continued, “If you have glasses that can accommodate a round circle face – then those would be the glasses for me.” “Do you know what I’m talking about?” He nodded and got some glasses for round people faces.
The glasses I wanted would be $264.00 just for the frames. Excuse me what? I told him you could buy a mobile home for $264.00. He said, “Okay, maybe we can cut you a deal.” He aggressively typed into his computer for the next seven minutes like he was searching for something. Alright we can offer you $249.00. How the fuck-wads did you arrive at that number? What the hell did you type in? Anyways, that’s a hard pass – I would be ordering them online.
I needed to get my prescription from the doctor in order to know what to order so I shadowed him back up to the front desk while we waited for my BFF to sign the prescription. As he was filling out the prescription for her to sign I caught myself leaning headfirst over the counter as he wrote the numbers…. .75 for right eye .05 for the left eye over a little picture of eyes on the sheet of paper, it was all mesmerizing. I realized my head was leaning over so much so that my shadow was blocking his light and some of my hair was getting in the way of his pen. When I noticed I said, “My God. I’m so sorry about the hovering. I mean, I was just really getting in there.” He told me it was okay but maybe I should just sit down and wait for the doctor. Right, this again. Hasn’t everyone realized by now that I am incapable of sitting down and waiting? I have ADHD. Sitting and waiting is a hard no-go muchacho.
I wanted to see the doctor to give her my card – I thought we could hang out. It’s rare you meet another tall female person to hang out with. She also mentioned earlier that she had recently moved to the area and was only hanging out with her other MyEyeDr friends which must have been pretty lame. I thought I was reading all the right signals. I crapped out and didn’t leave my card but I did send her a Facebook message at 8:30 pm on a Friday night…the below is verbatim:
Hey! I hope you don’t think I’m the biggest creeper on earth – I know this is super random but I thought we “hit it off” as funny tall people. Let me know if you would ever want to grab drink or meet up! My number is XXX-XXX-XXXX.
What I didn’t realize then is that starting anything with “I hope you don’t think I’m the biggest creeper on earth..” generally means whatever you are doing is in fact, really creepy and you should discontinue doing it. Well, I didn’t not. And I also did not receive any kind of answer back. So….. I will be in the market for a new eye doctor (again) and it is there I will be ordering my monocle.
You can get fucked. In a world full of shitty neighbors the three guys that live above us are by far the worst sacks of goose turds that anyone could ever gather. I would prefer a screaming baby or Sean Connery’s amplified voice playing on a rotating continuum saying things like “I’d like some strawberry flavored schnapps” or “I play the glockenspiel.” Anything would be better than listening to these ass muffins march around in what can only be high heeled cowboy boots or performance tap shoes. I cannot imagine how shitty they must be in real life if they’re this shitty just having to listen to them through wooded panels, pink insulation fluffies, beam workings, and… I don’t know what I’m talking about….what the hell are floors made of anyways? Well, through all of that.
I imagine one of them to be a 7 foot tall gormless ogre that lives under the draw bridge that he had specially made to fit in his room. The other two guys think this was a huge waste of time considering drawbridges are way out and that he should be more focused on how to appropriately angle his fedora (this is how tool-ey I suspect them to be).
Not interested in fedoras, ogre man tolls people as they enter his room as only an ogre does, pouncing upon them and demanding the change that nobody cares about. Along with bridge tolling (a dying craft really), he excels in clumsily march/stomping around and terrorizing villagers. It’s the combination of this giant monstrosity of a man, him most likely wearing Frankenstein platforms, and the raising and lowering of his fucking useless drawbridge that creates this inscrutable racket.
When we finally had enough of the douche-clouds carrying on as they please we asked our landlord for the key to the upstairs entrance (I have no clue why they gave this to us ??..we could murder..?) so we could knock on their front door and speak to them like adults rather than filing an loud and stumpy feet complaint (as adults do).
One evening when I was at my wits end listening to the endless stomping, slams, object droppings, whistles, break dancing, man-on-man tussling, and games of bowling ball shot put I decided to go up there and have us a talking with. I knocked on the door to no answer which was perplexing in itself because clearly he/it/they was clearly home. My roommate had since walked up to front of the town home to see me through the glass door aimlessly trying to enter an apartment that wasn’t ours. She came in, asked me what the fuck I was doing and then started to help with the forced entry.
Since the door was no longer an option we began tapping on their window to hopefully spawn some kind of urgency. To our surprise, the lights went off and a face popped in between the window curtains. FINALLY! The ogre. We looked at him completely dumbfounded like, why the fuck aren’t you answering the door? It’s two girls out here and we don’t have any flaming pitchforks so there really isn’t anything to worry about. After luring the ogre out from behind his protective curtain he eventually opened the door. I questioned him as to why he didn’t just open it from the beginning but he avoided giving us an answer other than just looking like a complete asshole hiding from two girls that were completely unarmed. Furthermore, he looked completely apathetic and was giving us kind of a “look at these annoying bitches” vibe before we even started speaking…dick. What he didn’t know was that morning I happened to wake up with a case of the “don’t-fuck-a-arounds.” Which meant today, I really didn’t want to fuck around.
Me, talking from out of my face: “Hello there. We live below you…and…..(my eyes wander towards the floor).. I can see that you’re wearing your boots,” I noted immediately.
Ogre nods, “Well…yes.”
“It would be of great appreciation if you could be a little bit more conscious of when you are pacing to-and-fro wearing your medieval knee boots as it is an incredibly loud noise for us that live beneath you my squire,” I said with a slight curtsy-bow thing. (I’m not sure why I spoke to him in renaissance peasantry. I guess when I’m in uncomfortable situations I use different era accents as a defensive mechanism)
What I wanted to say was: “Can you shut your colossal fucking feet up? How many ogre belongings can you forget in your fucking cavernous room that would call for you to lap it 20 times in an hour wearing man’s heaviest boots?”
He apologized and said he normally paces when he is on the phone, tends to never take his boots off and they have no carpeting. WELL. That would effing’ explain it. He shewed us off to return to his boiling ogre cauldron (or phone call) and briefly said that they would try and not wear boots in the house while pacing. Thank you?
In addition to the ogre, apparently Tootles from Hook also lives upstairs. He, as we’ve always known him, still has the clumsy annoyance of continuously dropping and losing his marbles. Every couple of hours a bang hits the floor quickly followed by what sounds like 50 rolling pieces dispersing from the original source and knees marching into the floor after them in obsessive retrieval. If it is Tootles upstairs, I would like to speak to him about couple things: a) Neverland b) his relationship with Rufio and if I can get an introduction c) bag options for his marbles. There are plenty of other carrying mechanisms (maybe just a normal bag with a zipper?) that would effectively hold the marbles rather than using a crushed velvet cloth rag with a draw string which clearly isn’t working. Basically, we have a lot to go over.
Last but not least, I’m convinced that the rogue fourth member of Creed also lives above us. He has by far the worst taste in music I’ve ever heard and will relentlessly practice songs about picture frames or whatever the fuck Creed actually sings about, maybe arms that are wide open? Whatever the case, he has the musicality of a swamp rat. Which says nothing and everything at the same time. He sucks.
On top of it all, the ogre, Tootles and the lost member of Creed are trying to collectively start a band. Which is horrible news for me and everyone on earth. So, during their weekly band practices or impromptu jam sessions we hear the horrendous beginnings of people trying to learn instruments. I’m all for creativity and jamming but their music sounds like farts.
I don’t mean to be harsh. I can also take criticism. I was told by my guitar teacher who had been teaching for 15 years when I came in strumming all of the cords he taught me at once that he had never seen someone do something so utterly and entirely wrong and that it would be in my best interest to just give up. Which I believe is the only thing a teacher should not share with their student.
All that being said, it will inevitability be a long time until I have a noiseless slumber or no longer fester a fiery rage for the upstairs fuckle tarts. Mainly because as I type this I can hear that the effing’ guy is wearing his boots again, the bag of marbles just dropped, and a song is gearing up that starts with….”Well I just heard….the news today….”
For fucks sake.
1. Girls who say, “I don’t have girlfriends.”
Okay then…. You either murdered them or you sleep with everyone’s boyfriend.
2. People who don’t curse
Let it out. Fuckity. Fuck. Fucks….you’ll feel better.
What the hell did meat do to you that you don’t want to eat it?
4. People who talk in the third person
5. LeVar Burton, former host of Reading Rainbow
He likes books way too much.
6. People who don’t like music
What the hell do you do then? Does that cut out dancing too? General merriment? Definitely not trustworthy.
7. People that sell replacement ink cartridges
I’ve been Ink Pirated (yes, that’s what it’s called) 3 or 4 times and it’s the worst. You chat to them on the phone, they record you saying “yes” completely out of context and then ship you hundreds of dollars of ink that you open and cannot return. They are liars and frauds. (I’m also aware that I’m an idiot for letting this happen repeatedly).
I know you’re slipping cocaine baggies into my suitcase so that I will be arrested at the airport.
9. People with attached earlobes
I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t.
10. Clothing tags that say, “One Size Fits All.”
Nope. Not true.
What is it and what does it want?
I would rather just hire Count Chocula to count my teeth, he seems more reliable.
13. Barry Manilow