Wet And Wild

This past week, the SO and I, along with some family members made our annual pilgrimage to the Big Kahuna’s Water Park in Destin, Florida.

Not too much has changed since last year. The slides are pretty much the same, the food is still overpriced and everyone in charge is someone who I could have, in theory, birthed. The “ma’am” quotient seems to be up, but I’m trying not to dwell on it. It’s possible that my move to the full-on Spanx bathing suit has something to do with it.

(I love the suit, but there’s no liquid consumption when I’m in that one. Once the Spanx bathing suit goes on, it’s not coming off unless I’m done for the day. I learned that lesson after a particularly grueling incident in a public bathroom which may or may not have caused other patrons to believe I was a) wrestling with myself b) experiencing a seizure or c) being tortured to death by a large animal. I’m also pretty sure my waiting friends thought that I either had GI issues or an eating disorder considering how long I was absent. I like to get that suit in place, leave it and go through the inevitable undressing struggle later, in the privacy of my own home. Yes, there are breaks involved to catch my breath.)

I also saw a new sign this year. It’s possible that the sign was there last year, but I feel like I would have noticed it then, too.

In addition to the warnings about heart conditions, pregnancy and back problems, this kept popping up in large, large letters: “Do not ride if you are ill with diarrhea.”

This was a warning on every ride. It was one of the largest warnings. Frankly, I found it unsettling.

As someone who tends to wonder about the origins of signs, I couldn’t help but think about what led to this little gem.

It’s actually hard to come up with something more humiliating than being blamed for excessive poop at the water park. Honestly, I could have nightmares. It cannot be pleasant to be that person. Part of me wants to hug him or her. The predominant part of me wants to send a reassuring card and make sure we never touch skin. (I wash my hands about 20 times a day. I have issues.)

Of course, I quickly had to put all of that out of my head for the sake of enjoying the water park. I still have some questions, but I’m also pretty sure I don’t want the answers.  

I purposefully don’t know what’s in a hot dog, I don’t ask about expiration dates at Six Flags and I think this Big Kahuna’s mystery will join those ranks. I’m pretty sure curiosity would kill my love of lazy rivers here, and I just can’t allow that to happen.

Also, for anyone keeping track, the best tattoo I saw this year was “Stray Dog” inked vertically down someone’s spine.