Being in an honorary, made-up position (thanks, Mikie) in the SCA is pretty sweet. Free dance tickets, planning events, and the endless range of crap that I am able to get away with. So you might think to yourself, "Amber, that sounds wicked awesome. In fact, that seems like a rip roarin' good time." AU CONTRAR! In attempts to PUNISH the SCA, Mrs. Sassy (crazy) & Mrs. Pitchford (clinically insane) took the courtesy of giving us free tickets to Six Flags.
At the first mention of this trip, I was pumped. Awwhh yeah, a free trip, no school, and a few chill people I get to hang out with all day. But of course, as you may have guessed, this trip has been classified as ball-crushing (Ryan Cummins) with a side of the hottest effing bus oh my god dude its like 50 million degrees (Jeff Schurott).
First things first. I arrive at school at 7 am for field trip. What time did we leave? 8. THIRTY. How many times could I have gone to Starbucks and back in 90 minutes? Like, atleast, 7.
Once on the bus, I estimate that I will go completely nuts within the hour.
My calculations were wrong. It only took about 20 minutes.
After a rousing competition of Name Game and five minute tour from Jeff (your DC tour guide. Well, maybe not DC. Actually, just this bridge near where he used to live. Thoroughly enjoyed however, kudos), I fell asleep. As did my left arm. Waking up to the feeling of pins and needles was only intensified by Nicky B's rendition of Coldplay's Viva La Vida.
Stepping off of the bus, I was glad to be off the metal, muggy, moving (alliteration!) deathtrap. I then realized it was raining. And for the first time I was extremely disappointed in my choice of Northface jacket (what kind of fleece jacket doesn't have a hood? Get real Northface, I need scalp coverage!!).
A couple hours later and you can now call me Ms. Frizzle (see: Magic Schoolbus). However, Creepy Jeff Ride Operator from Ohio did not seem to mind (STOP talking to me...it's called harassment, man).
I have yet to comment on the sheer GHETTO-ness that IS Six Flags.
Are you ready? Okay. Here we go.
P.S. If you are sensitive to partial Racism, do not continue reading..
1. Ride Operator telling me: "If yas dos what imz gonna tellz yaz ta dooz then yalls be finez!" ....check.
2. Ride Operator 2 doing "The Stanky Leg" ....check.
3. Sam's comment, "There aren't any white people on that ride right now." ...check.
4. Extreme 80's-esque comic book decor ...check.
5. Overhearing Ride Operator 3 saying, "The brakes are broken again." ...check (wait, WHAT?!).
6. Overhearing fellow park-go-ers singing "HALLE BAAARRRAAYYY..halle berry.." ...check.
The bottom line here, folks, is that if you ever plan of traveling to Six Flags...reconsider. The rides are probably broken. Or "stuck". Or the park personnel will verbally violate you indefinitely. Or you will pay $15 dollars for chicken tenders.
The light at the end of the tunnel was 5:15. We get to leave.
Queue DC traffic, Amber's short temper, a 90 degree bus, and some involuntary nose picking (Chase, he didn't touch your brain).
Nearly 5 hours later and I am back home. Crankier than ever. But, really, is that such a big surprise??
Thank God for Milano Cookies (props to Jeff's Momma).
