Panic set in as I walked up the aisle — straight to the front of the line. Where would I put my wallet? How would I protect my bag from the water? What would my hair look like after the deluge? Did I really want to walk around a theme park soaking wet, my pants drenched, people wondering why I would go out in public like that?
“Look, honey! That man wet himself … all over!”
It was the Congo River Rapids at Tampa’s Busch Gardens. I hadn’t been back to the park in over a decade. Now three generations of Thompson — my dad, my daughter, my wife and me — were boarding this wobbly raft. All the riders who just came off were drenched. DRENCHED! One woman was complaining she almost drowned. She wanted CPR from a snappy-looking employee.
What am I an idiot, I thought? This isn’t what grown people do.
And then the raft drifted down the rolling rapids and my worries went away. I was transported back in time. Back to my childhood. Back to when my brother and I used to have annual passes to the park, and practically lived there, riding the rapids, losing our money in the arcade and trying to see if a head-on collision in bumper cars could reshape our spines.
Even the eventual avalanche of water that soaked every inch of me couldn’t mar that flashback. My daughter burst into hysterics while pointing at me: “You look ridiculous. You should see your hair.” I knew it!
There were eight of us Thompsons total that day — my brood, my dad, my sister, my brother, his wife and their 2-year-old, Striker. We moved about the park like drunk people tied together — in fits and starts. No idea where we were going. Unable to make basic decisions. “You have to go to the bathroom?!? Shoot, what should we do? All go in together?”
Groups with conflicting interests and 2 year olds don’t move well. For 20 minutes we walked in a circle and said things like, “Well, we could ride the train? Or … go to the bathroom again.” Once we finally decided on our first ride, it was time for lunch.
The day ended early. All of us soaked and heat-exhausted and dodging a lightning storm that makes you run from shelter to shelter like you’re being hunted.
Yet, what a joy to share it with three generations of your family. How often do you get that chance? To go back in time to re-experience your childhood with your daughter AND your dad at the same time? To introduce your kid to the spine-bending power of bumper cars of your youth?
It’s those moments which are so special, and unforgettable.
After we had all left town, my dad texted, “Thanks so much for coming. It was crazy, but just loads of fun to have everyone together!”
Yes, indeed. Everyone together. Now, if only I can get my underpants to dry out.