It’s Day Two of Fun Quest 2013. (I typed that first sentence yesterday morning on the way to Typhoon Lagoon water park. It’s now Day Three. We’re driving home, but for the sake of continuity, we’re going to pretend it’s Day Two.)
Okay, this isn’t working. I was going to start writing as if it’s really Day Two and try to make everything sound like it just happened, but that feels dishonest. If I’m going to lie, I might as well do it up big time and tell you we’re vacationing on Jupiter and I’m now a nine year old basset hound with x-ray vision. See how lying just begets more dishonesty? It’s a vicious cycle.
ANDREW: “Mom, that’s not even remotely believable. Everyone knows Jupiter’s a gas planet and has no surface. Therefore you can’t vacation there.
ME: “Mars, then.”
ANDREW: “Much better.”
So, as I was saying, we’re driving home now. Yesterday was great. My shoulders are sunburned the color of grilled hotdogs…. quite painful. You can learn a lot about people by their tan lines. For instance, who wears a lot of v-necks, Capri pants and ankle socks. I wonder if a crime has ever been solved by some smart investigator who made his case based on tell-tale tan lines. One day I’ll write a mystery along these same lines…tan lines, that is. The guilty party will get life in prison and melanoma…the easily curable, non-life threatening kind.
I think James, his best friend Gary and our collective male brood might’ve been the only Americans at Typhoon Lagoon. Amid an auditory buffet of exotic accents, I once again wished that a cool dialect was something you could just download and install into your brain. I mean, four years of French language classes did nothing for me, but imagine how far in life I could’ve gotten with an impressive French accent. I mean look at Ricardo Montalban’s career. (I think he was actually from West Texas.)
When my kids get old enough to take a foreign language, I certainly hope that accent classes are offered instead of the whole Spanish 1 and 2 waste of time. Imagine taking a month long class to sound like Penelope Cruz or Antonio Banderas or Katherine Hepburn.
Now, onto the serious part of this blog post, the part you shouldn’t ignore.
I’m sure this is TMI, but as a responsible adult, I feel strongly compelled to share this valuable lesson. It’ll save many people from mortifying embarrassment or a lifelong fear of water parks. After reading this, you’ll rush to thank me, and then forward the story to everyone you’ve ever met.
Until yesterday, I’ve never used one of those paper toilet seat protectors when going to the bathroom at a water park. I guess I’ve always just done the old “strong-thigh hover” taking care of business that way. As I write this I’m perplexed as to why water parks or pools even provide toilet seat protectors that quickly disintegrate upon adhering to wet skin.
If you’re reading this thinking “what the heck is she talking about? Let me just say that walking out of a bathroom with toilet paper stuck to your shoe would be considered semi-cool compared to exiting with part of a mangled, wet toilet seat cover partially glued to your derrière, prominently peeking out of your swimsuit bottoms.
Yes, that happened to me. Please don’t judge me. This is painful enough.
Had the toilet seat protector stayed intact, I could have just casually peeled it off while walking away, hoping people would think I’d meant to have it there, but was now done with it. No big deal. Ya know how you try to look cool and completely unaffected after stepping in a fresh wad of Bubblicious or tripping and falling down the aisle at your wedding? There is really no way to play it cool while peeling 496 wet shards of toilet paper material from your behind, while an equal number of representatives from around the globe stare at the poor, stupid American.
“I thought toilet seat protectors had wax coatings on them,” pondered James (trying to be helpful, or not)
Is Disney trying to save a buck by not buying the wax covered seat protectors? Or is this their idea of a joke? Maybe this is their sick version of Candid Camera.
“Did those water slides give you an enema or something?” asked my friend Dawn (perhaps trying to be helpful, or prying into my regularity status.)
“No. It wasn’t that kind of bathroom trip,” I defended, as if that minute detail had any relevance to my story.
So, enough drawing this out…..bottom line. Please resist the temptation to use toilet seat protectors at water parks, especially Disney water parks.
Stay tuned for “How to Have Fun at Work Tomorrow” or at least feel like a productive adult.