Limos and Roller Coasters and Dolphins, OH MY!

21 Oct

Recently I had the pleasure of attending my girlfriend’s bachelorette party where we celebrated her final days of joy before entering the long and arduous journey that is matrimony.  I must say it was a bit unorthodox in that no one was downing Jäger shots while watching some hoochie gyrate around to the tune of Pour Some Sugar On Me.  Okay, obviously I am referring to a bachelor party as us girls are clearly too refined to participate in that type of debauchery –we would much rather chat over tea and scrapbook.

For real though, this was not the typical night out on the town.  In fact, the event began at 10:00 a.m. with Bloody Mary’s and bomb ass chorizo breakfast burritos.  We were fueling up for a fun-filled day riding roller coasters and drinking booze at Six Flags Discovery Kingdom.  Right about now I’m guessing you are probably thinking something similar to my thoughts that morning as I inhaled my burrito, “I will not morn your digestion chorizo burrito, as I am certain we will be seeing each other again very soon.”  Or, how about this equation: burrito + booze + roller coasters = no bueno?  Quite possibly, sí.

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EW!
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Done with breakfast we awaited the arrival of our limousine to carry us away to a day of chills and thrills at the most magnificent park EVER (at least according to their website).  Our limo promptly arrived and our charismatic driver mouthed the word, “Hello.”  And by “mouthed” I do mean:

form words silently: to form words with the tongue and lips without making a sound, usually in order to avoid being heard or to pretend to speak or sing something

“The limousine driver mouthed ‘hell no’ when picking up his next bachelorette party for delivery to some stupid fucking amusement park.”

I honestly can’t say if he didn’t know English, or was just really shy—but I’m kind of leaning towards the theory that he hated us.  I don’t know why.  We are really, really cool.  Anyways, he may have been a man of no words, but he did not withhold expressing his feelings–by way of his erratic driving maneuvers.  Looking back, he always tended to pull that shit right when one of the gals began making mixed drinks for everyone.  He’d cut a sharp turn, make an erratic lane change or bust out a wheelie.  I think he may have been trying to sabotage our efforts!  Or maybe he was just trying to look out for us himself—trying to minimize the chances of seeing regurgitated chorizo burritos later that evening.
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Not only was he not smiling,
but he was intentionally frowning.  : (
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So, we finally arrived at the park but, because our limo driver didn’t speak, he couldn’t ask a park employee where to drop us off.  I’m not a rocket scientist, but the FRONT GATE would have been ideal!  Instead, we ended up out at the far end of the parking lot with our driver signing to us “You get out here and walk.”  Walk?  Walk, mutha fucka?  What kind of  limo driver was he?  Where was my god damned red carpet?  Hell naw!

So after our 10 mile walk through the snow with no shoes, we finally arrived at the park’s entrance.  We then stood in our first line of the day waiting to pass through security.  This is when I began to feel a bit anxious.  I started sweatin—what if they didn’t let me in because they caught me flashing gang signs on the way in?  (Throwin’em up for Sactown! HOLLA!!)  Or, they noticed the riffle in my purse–you never know when your gonna need to pop a cap in some fool’s ass, you know?  Oh geez.  I just kept saying, “Act normal, act normal, act normal.”  And it worked!  We were in!

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What’s up cuz?

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My HK-47
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Then BAM we were all over the roller coasters.  First one, Medusa.  Bomb.  Screamed our brains out.  Second one, Kong.  Line.  Lots of weird people.  Lots of weird people.  Lots of weird people.  This is when I first realized that I wasn’t security’s only exception—the security checkpoint was a bunch of bullshit.  The park clearly did not enforce their dress code:

DRESS CODE
In keeping with our family-friendly atmosphere, and for health and safety reasons, Six Flags Discovery Kingdom strictly enforces a dress code. Proper attire must be worn in the park at all times, including shirts and appropriate footwear. Clothing with rude, vulgar or offensive language or graphics is not permitted at any time (shirts cannot be turned inside out as a solution). Park admission may be denied if clothing is deemed by management to be inappropriate.

I don’t know who management is, but there was some serious shit going down in the clothing department.  In fact, one of the most blatant dress code violations I saw was a man wearing this shirt:

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You like the shirt?
You shoulda seen the guy wearing it!

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I am NOT kidding folks.  I repeat, NOT KIDDING!  Now, I’d had a few drinks, I was flying high from the last ride–what do you think I did when I saw that shit?  Ya, I smiled.  And so did all the bitches in my party.  Apparentleh-well, I won’t state the obvious.  Anyways, it was quite shocking and management should have been notified immediately.   But, we were easily distracted by all of the other hot messes up in thur. And there were quite a lot.  In fact, their advertised zombie Fright Fest was beginning to look more like an invasion of the People of Walmart!  Add a dash of  local street gangs, and a mobility scooter convention and you should have a pretty accurate depiction of the overall park atmosphere.

After our amusing stint in line, we eventually boarded the Kong ride.  Big mistake.  Point one seconds into it, I felt like King Kong himself had bitch slapped me about a thousand million gazillion times.  My head was thrown from side to side, slamming into the padded shoulder restraints at each twist and turn.  My ears were throbbing and tears began to form–Stop!  STOP!!  MAKE IT STOP YOU ASSHOLES!!  It was seriously the longest one minute and 36 seconds of my entire life.

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Kong can SUCK IT!

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When it was done I retaliated by beating the shit out of it.  Payback, bitch.  Security had to pull me off but the woman of the hour, our bachelorette, distracted them with all of her flashing bachelorette paraphernalia—including one pin strategically placed approximately one-eighth of an inch above her boob.  She just kept saying, “Lllloooookkkk into the flllassshhiinnnggg  bbboooobbbb liiggghhttt, now yyyoouuuu are getting vveerrryyy  ssllleepppyyy,” while my other friends ushered me away.  In addition to the hypnotic effect on security, I can’t tell you how many teenage boys appreciated the placement of that button.

At this point we all have headaches and are beginning to experience alcohol withdrawals.  So we hooked up some lunch and brewskis and began the alcohol stabilization process.  After a team huddle, we decided to catch one of the donkey dolphin shows.  This is where things really get interesting.  We take our seats and notice a gentleman walking around asking for volunteers for the show.  Of course, I coerce one of my friends into volunteering our bachelorette who quickly declined.  Whatever.  You scared of a little water?  Pussy!!!  So, I decided to fill in for her because I love dolphins and was secretly plotting to jump on one and go for a ride.

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Brewskis!

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The dude then escorts me and one of my girls (for support) away to the other side of the amphitheater.  It is then that he informs me and another victim volunteer of the contingencies placed on petting a fucking dolphin.  These include, singing in front of 10,000 people, hula hooping in front of 10,000 people and getting completely soaked by dolphin diarrhea water in front of 10,000 people!  Only after completing those tasks would we be allowed to pet a dolphin.  Wha, Wha, WHAT?!?!  I signed up to PET A FUCKING DOLPHIN.  That’s it!  Immediately I wanted to back out—but considering I had just called our bachelorette a pussy, entertaining a crowd of 10,000 looked more appealing than the backlash I would receive walking back to my friends with my tail between my legs.

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Dolphins!  They are cute.
I want to pet them.

All I have to say is thank god for liquid courage—although a Jäger shot would have been nice as I was about to get my gyration on while singing Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar On Me in front of a crowd of ONE MILLION people!!  So it was just about time for my debut when I start having flashbacks to my last performance in a Tijuana discoteca.  I had been ill-informed of the rules surrounding the “dance off” I was participating in.  Belligerently dancing to the tune of my own drum, I began hearing heckles of boo’s as I busted out my best dance moves.  What the fuck assholes, my moves are HOT!  Coming out of my haze, I took a look around and all the bitches I was up against were butt ass naked.  Apparently someone forgot to tell me it was a “dance off with your pants off” contest.   I had forgotten to bring my clear plastic goldfish stilettos, so I had to bow out.

Although I was relatively certain I wasn’t going to have to get naked on this stage, my anxiety continued to grow.  It was two minutes before I took the stage and I really wanted to sing Pour Some Sugar On Me; but, there was one major problem—I didn’t know enough of the lyrics.  And, the lyrics I did know weren’t exactly family-friendly–although considering the audience, it probably would have been a big hit.  I finally decided I would improvise and made up my own song called, “Congratulations to You” which I sang to the tune of Happy Birthday.  This song would be a tribute to our bachelorette’s engagement.

I asked our host if I could give a shout out before I started singing to which he responded with an unequivocal, “No.” Whatever!  I do what I want!  Then he uttered a few words which would soon come back to haunt him.  Those words were, “Just add your own Katie-flare to it.”  Mwwahhaahahaahhaaa!!!

Finally on stage I enthusiastically executed various cheer claps and high kicks while screaming at the top of my lungs.  Weeewww  heeeewwwww!!!  Then, dun, dun, dun, it was time.  I quickly summoned my inner Britney Spears; but, unfortunately, all I could conjure up was a bit of Yoko Ono.


After giving a quick shout out to my girl (hahaha Mr. Host!!), I began to sing, terribly.  Anyways, my singing may have sucked balls, but my hula hooping was BOMB!!  It’s just a shame there’s no video.  Schweew!!  I was almost done, only one more task and then I got to pet the mutha fuckin dolphin!  YAY!!

They had me standing with my tennis shoes in the water and instructed me to “DO NOT  MOVE!”  Awwww, here comes the dolphin!!  He’s so cute!  Then BAM its tail slams down into the water and my entire front gets soaked with dolphin diarrhea water.  YAY! Now I get to pet the dolphin!  But then, homie instructs me to “TURN AROUND and DO NOT MOVE.”  WTF?  I should have ran.  I really, really should have ran.  Then BAM Dolphy’s tail slams down again and I am equally covered with dolphin diarrhea water on my backside.  Fuck Dolphins!

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Dude!  I look like a linebacker!!  WTF?

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Me Covered in Dolphin Diarrhea Water.

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Now my tasks were finally complete!  It was time to pet the dolphin!  Dolphy gets comfy up on the platform and I lean down to give him some lovins.  We were going to be best friends!  All my girls were going to be soooooo jealous.  But then, what? What’s going on?  Who could possibly be tugging at my arm?  I’ve only just begun my bonding with Dolphy!  Could it be?  SECURITY!!  Foiled again!

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Did I forget to tell you I was dressed up like a Furry?

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The End.

P.S. No one puked.

P.P.S. xoxo




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4 Responses to “Limos and Roller Coasters and Dolphins, OH MY!”

  1. icrawbeans October 22, 2010 at 8:40 am #

    Oh, there is video and it will probably make an apperance on Facebook when I get my sh@t together! And the reason I wouldn’t go up was because it was a family friendly show and I was wearing white–and I’m no fool!
    Love everything you did and there are not thanks enough.

  2. Sarah K October 22, 2010 at 9:20 am #

    Perfect representation of the whole day…Classic! You Rock Katie the Blog Lady!!

  3. Nikki_Chicken October 22, 2010 at 9:27 am #

    OMG I can’t stop laughing at the pciture of the dude barfing on the roller coaster. It looks like you had a fun time! At least the dolphin did not spit on you! : )

  4. Nikki_Not_Chicken October 22, 2010 at 11:15 am #

    You got bitch slapped by King Kong. Rad.

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