on amusement parks:

For the low, low price of 35 dollars, tax included, you can buy yourself a ticket to stand in various lines for what will seem to like an eternity, with your personal space repeatedly invaded by sweating strangers, your nose taking in the collective odor of those same people, and your skin burning under the heat of the sun. You endure all this so that at the end, your body can be subjected to extreme velocities, violent maneuvering and sudden stop and starts that will leave your head spinning, your stomach ready to lose the last meal it ingested and your common sense left somewhere behind in line. I say the last item because at some point in the day, you manage to convince yourself that the 30 or so seconds of dizzying thrill was all worth the wait.

You can also opt to pay an additional 12 dollars to leave your vehicle in a badly maintained parking lot and walk 20 exhausting minutes to the entrance of the park.

On a somewhat related note, I went to LaRonde last month. OK, so it wasn't a bad experience- it was fun, actually. But if you break it all down, that’s essentially what going to an amusement park is all about.

on waterslides:

I also went to a waterpark for the first time in my life a few weekends ago. Now that's an interesting concept when you really think about it - scores of people eagerly waiting in line to hurtle themselves down plastic tubes - sometimes in a giant inflatable torus; sometimes not.

Many of you already know that I cannot swim, and am slightly – ok, make that completely petrified – of deep water. Deep meaning anything over 4 feet. (Stop laughing.)

So it was with great consternation that I agreed to go along on this trip, whining to everyone to within earshot the two days prior that I cannot swim, despite being told repeatedly that the water at the end of a typical slide is only 2 inches deep. I realized that it was a complete lie the moment we arrived at the park and I saw people flying off the slides and into pools of water, be completely submerged for several seconds before they bobbed back up with a look of complete exhilaration on their faces. My heart sank.

To be completely fair, not all the slides ended with a pool of water. The one that stood 4 stories high off the ground at an angle so steep that it was pretty much a vertical drop ended with a shallow 2 inches of water. So did the slides with inner tubes the radius of regular automobile tires – perfect for a small child, not so perfect for a terrified 5’ 7” adult.

Luckily my friends patiently “warmed up” with me on a ride called “The Lazy River”. It consisted of travelling along a watery circuit in inner tubes that travelled roughly at the heart-stopping velocity of a wayward shopping cart in an empty parking lot on a mildly breezy afternoon. And much unlike what the name would suggest, we found ourselves pelted, sprayed and showered with freezing cold water at unexpected intervals, during which we frenetically paddled with our hands and feet in a futile attempt to pick up the pace and make a quick exit from this cruel and unusual form of water torture.

ange and alli do their own scaled-down version of fear factor

My fear ebbed away during the course of the day and as a grand finale I found myself lining up to go down the aforementioned five-story vertical drop waterslide. How I ended up on that ride was a bit of a fluke – Alli and I were originally in line for a slightly tamer slide that shared the same platform. Tamer, because it consisted of several twists and turns – instead of a sheer drop. It became apparent that many people perceived it that way too, as the line slowly inched along, while the line for the death-drop remained somewhat thin. We slowly began to debate the possibility of going on the death-drop slide instead:

“The whole ride will be over in few seconds.”
“Yeah, but I’m scared.”
“Me too, but hey, we can say that we did it!”
“I know, but I’m scared!”
“I know I know…so am I, but the line is so much shorter!”
“BUT I’M SCARED!”

We finally decided to straddle the two lines until we worked up the nerve to actually line up for it. Seconds later, we found ourselves actually (and inadvertently) in line. A few minutes later, I was clutching the railing, the ground below swirling before my eyes as I experienced a serious case of vertigo. I felt more nervous about going down the slide than I did about writing a hard exam that I was not ready for at McGill.

It was all over in a matter of a few seconds – but those were some of the most terrifying seconds of my life, when I felt my stomach hit my throat and at of the end of which I couldn’t tell if I was still moving downwards or forwards. Was it worth the nerve-wrenching wait? You bet.

and…a final observation

I also discovered something interesting that day at the waterpark, while lining up for our turn at the slides – easily half the people in line in front of us was branded with some sort of tattoo. This led me to make the following conclusions:
1) More people in Quebec get tattoos than you actually think
2) People who like to get tattoos also like to frequent waterparks
3) Waterparks are clandestine meeting places for a secret order for which membership is validated by an abstract design tattooed on the lower back, shoulder or bicep.

On a side note, I also found the number of guys sporting nipple rings somewhat disturbing.

A question that was running through my mind at 2am this morning as I was engaged in a frenzied packing spree at the apartment:
"Why did I bring SO many clothes with me?"

The coffee at work never tasted so good as it does right now.