A Day at Wisconsin Dells
Over the weekend, Dawn and I took the kids to the Mt. Olympus water park in Wisconsin Dells. After a two hour drive, we arrived at the 156 acre attraction and joined the thousands of other people slowly making their way inside.
Now, you should know a couple of things about me. I hate crowds. And I don’t particularly enjoy water recreation. Dawn and the kids had been looking forward to this excursion for weeks though, so I sucked it up and resigned myself to a long day. I know, I know… I’m a destroyer of fun. I’ve heard it before.
Not long after entering the park, I realized a few things:
- Smokers gonna smoke. According to the Mt. Olympus website, smoking is against the park rules, but I’m guessing the dozens of considerate leather-skins that lit up around us didn’t get that memo.
- There are a lot of mid-westerners regretting their tattoo choices. This is really more of an assumption on my part. But seriously, I haven’t seen that much bad art since kindergarten craft time.
- Water parks are excellent for your self-esteem. If you’re even a little self-conscious about your body, I highly recommend a trip to the Dells. I guarantee you will see literally thousands of heavier, less attractive people. For every one hard-body that makes you wish you had gone easy on the Krispy Kremes, there are at least four portly park-goers whose bathing suits are screaming for a quick, merciful end to their suffering. Unless of course, by some stroke of extreme misfortune, you happen to be the heaviest, ugliest person at the park. In which case, we all have you to thank for the ego boost. You deserve a tiara and another piece of cake.
After finally acknowledging that I was not even in the top 25 percentile of people at the park whose hideousness would cause instant blindness, I decided to join the rest of the fatties in the wave pool.
Before venturing into the diseased stew of humanity, we applied liberal amounts of sunscreen to every nook and cranny. My level of paleness goes beyond my English and Irish ancestry. I’m convinced there had to be some Transylvanian in the family tree, somewhere. Not even SPF 60 could prevent me from bursting into flame the second I stepped out of the shade.
I have to admit, I did enjoy playing with the kids in the wave pool. Right up until the point when somebody’s escaped Band-Aid floated by my leg. That was our cue to call it a day.
In the end, our water park trip proved to be a lot of walking, waiting, and burning for very little pay-off. When we got in the van to start the trip home, Dawn turned to me and said, “I don’t think we ever need to do that again.”
It was music to my charbroiled ears.