No Running

The other day I went to the water slides. I will admit that this is not a park aimed at anyone old enough to have facial hair but I still go because I CAN. Now I’ve been to this park before and what attracts me every year is the thrill of going up and over the edge. It’s a legitimate thrill to have. Before each trip down the slide, I imagine the faces of small children running (as walking is never an option when water slides are involved) up the stairs as they witness me exploding from the hairpin turn up and over their incredibly tiny bodies with a monsoon of heavy water falling beneath me as they are awe struck at the grown man flying over them, free from the slide and giving them one wicked wink from my left eye. I can see in this delusion of grandeur the metamorphosis from panic to jealousy splash across their bare skin little faces. Yes I am a child. Yes I asked my girlfriend to apply a generous amount of sunscreen to my back. Yes it makes you slide faster. No you cannot have my autograph.

Anyhow. The real reason I started this post was to talk about what I witnessed from the “jacuzzi” after having gone down many slides. Side note. If you are someone that puts words in quotation marks because you think it makes things “official” or “proper”, you’re doing it wrong and you should “stop breathing”. Immediately.

Now I was getting out of said warm piss pool when it happened so I totally had the opportunity to help this kid out. I didn’t. I watched him look around for faces of people gasping at what just happened to see if crying should then happen. You know that annoying thing children do. No one else saw what I did so the kid picked himself up and hobbled off. I wanted to help that kid but I couldn’t because I am a grown man with a messy beard and tattoos. For all I know, this kid could have bad memories of someone with a messy beard and tattoos. Kind of like a pound dog. You always mean well by adopting some poor pup but YOU HAVE NO IDEA what that dog has seen. You could be eating an orange one day and BAM, the dog goes Cujo on you because his previous owner used to squirt orange peel mist into his dog’s eyes.

I also had no idea what I could have offered that kid in terms of medical help. Uh, here you go little guy I cured you with my magical powers! Imagine me grabbing at some little boy’s leg. Him crying and me towering over him in his wet swim trunks pretending that I know exactly what to do when a little kid disobeys ALLLL the signs around the park that warn of the dangers from running and ends up on his ass. There are so many signs. So many. Does he really give a shit though? Absolutely not. His mom just stuffed him full of crappy pizza and turned him loose in a confined area with tall fences. She’s over in a cabana passed out. The moment her face touched the sun bleached plastic of the folding chair she was OUT. Stoked to be away from the little demon she just let wild in the park. Here legs bent awkwardly like a ostrich through that plastic ribbon crap of pool chairs and a little dribble coming from the corner of her mouth. Her bathing suit is wedged so far up her mom ass. She gives no fucks.

So I walked right on by him proud that my adult mind assessed the situation and handled it by way of rational thought. Something little kids hyped on blue neon crazy slushy juice would never understand.