I'm going to Cedar Point tomorrow, not Cedar Hell. Tomorrow, I will walk through the front gates as a guest who knows too much about cleaning up vomit, and bleeding feet, and taking fifteen minute toilet breaks just to sit in a stall and contemplate the meaning of my existence because I can't walk any more.
Tomorrow, I won't fall inexplicably head over heels for a ride host. Tomorrow, I won't wear yellow ribbons in my hair, or pay for bottled water, or take dancing breaks in the Jungle.
Tomorrow, I won't fall inexplicably head over heels for a ride host. Tomorrow, I won't wear yellow ribbons in my hair, or pay for bottled water, or take dancing breaks in the Jungle.
Tomorrow, I won't wear yellow at all, actually. No more yellow, ever.
Tomorrow, I will scream and pull my hair out because of how excited I am while experiencing the weightlessness of Millenium and Dragster. I will not scream and pull my hair out in frustration from telling smokers to stop smoking in this section because, unfortunately, some people would like to keep their lungs. There is a designated smoking area in section's A, E, and F and kindly, please stamp out your butt while walking there or I am obligated to call security and have your ass kicked out. And yes, I am a little girl in sunflower overralls, but I'm an angry little girl in sunflower overralls that is not in the mood to put up with corrupted lungs because of your laziness.
[I can't believe I'm still bitter about that. Goodness!]
Tomorrow, I will gladly skip through the entire park because I have the choice, at any time, to sit down on the bench of my choice and eat a funnel cake. I will not limp or complain about aching feet (ever again).
I will, tomorrow, admire every good-looking man that walks around the park with his shirt off. I will not, with a roll of my eyes, say, "Excuse me, extremely good-looking sir, but you'll have to put a shirt back on that gorgeous body of yours. I know, I know, I, too, am sorry that those abs have to be covered up, but I'm only trying to follow the rules here, and would you like to get dinner tonight?"
Hahaha. Yeah.
I will drive by Cedar Point's prison and remember those nights that I had to live inside of those barbed wire fences. But, oh, were there some good times under the moonlight in that prison. I'll remember those, too, and smirk.
I will watch employees in yellow jumpers bring in donuts, pizza, and orange juice...these employees will wear sloppy grins attached to their hickey-ridden faces. And I'll be in on the joke.
Oh, Cedar Point, how you have made me a better person for enduring your miserable madness. You have given me material, so much material, to write about, to expand upon. You, Cedar Point, have given me the opportunity to experience more than I ever imagined, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.
Now give me my free water and don't judge me too harshly when I decide to never ride Mantis ever again.
Tomorrow, I will scream and pull my hair out because of how excited I am while experiencing the weightlessness of Millenium and Dragster. I will not scream and pull my hair out in frustration from telling smokers to stop smoking in this section because, unfortunately, some people would like to keep their lungs. There is a designated smoking area in section's A, E, and F and kindly, please stamp out your butt while walking there or I am obligated to call security and have your ass kicked out. And yes, I am a little girl in sunflower overralls, but I'm an angry little girl in sunflower overralls that is not in the mood to put up with corrupted lungs because of your laziness.
[I can't believe I'm still bitter about that. Goodness!]
Tomorrow, I will gladly skip through the entire park because I have the choice, at any time, to sit down on the bench of my choice and eat a funnel cake. I will not limp or complain about aching feet (ever again).
I will, tomorrow, admire every good-looking man that walks around the park with his shirt off. I will not, with a roll of my eyes, say, "Excuse me, extremely good-looking sir, but you'll have to put a shirt back on that gorgeous body of yours. I know, I know, I, too, am sorry that those abs have to be covered up, but I'm only trying to follow the rules here, and would you like to get dinner tonight?"
Hahaha. Yeah.
I will drive by Cedar Point's prison and remember those nights that I had to live inside of those barbed wire fences. But, oh, were there some good times under the moonlight in that prison. I'll remember those, too, and smirk.
I will watch employees in yellow jumpers bring in donuts, pizza, and orange juice...these employees will wear sloppy grins attached to their hickey-ridden faces. And I'll be in on the joke.
Oh, Cedar Point, how you have made me a better person for enduring your miserable madness. You have given me material, so much material, to write about, to expand upon. You, Cedar Point, have given me the opportunity to experience more than I ever imagined, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.
Now give me my free water and don't judge me too harshly when I decide to never ride Mantis ever again.
I love reading about the behind-the-scenes Cedar Point stuff. I thought of you when I visited Cedar Point in August...I saw a sweeper and felt very sorry for her (and for her feet).
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