Tuesday, July 17, 2012
For the DELL of It
You didn't think I was done talking about the Dells, did you? There is so much to say that it has to be done in two parts, like a very special episode of The Golden Girls.
In addition to marauding children and horrific parents, we encountered roving teens. Our first night there we passed a pack of them as we were going to buy $3 waters at the on-site convenience store. One of them said "what's up" to us, which was apparently the most hilarious thing in the world. Yes, I've reached an age where my mere existence is comic gold for teenagers. Then on the way back, fancy waters in hand, we passed three teenage boys; I overheard one saying "I bet down here we're gonna meet some girls." And how. Everyone gets laid in the Dells. Especially if they're sleeping next to their twelve-year-old brother on a rollaway bed in their parents' room.
And let us not forget the phenomenon of the Dells bro. They were fewer in number, but no lesser in quality. You found them gathered around the "extreme" slides, where a trap door opens and you plummet five stories, talking about how extreme they were. You found them reserving "cabanas" next to the pool, presumably so they had somewhere to drink their Natty Lights, listen to Train, and rub suntan lotion on one another in peace. And in a scenario I swear I am not making up, you found them playing insanely aggressive water basketball against 50-year-old men in a wading pool while children looked on from the sidelines, wondering where it all went wrong. Poetry in motion, I tell you.
Did I mention that we went to a restaurant where the food was delivered on miniature trains? A chicken sandwich really does taste better when it's unsoiled by the taint of human-based delivery.
You didn't think I was done talking about the Dells, did you? There is so much to say that it has to be done in two parts, like a very special episode of The Golden Girls.
In addition to marauding children and horrific parents, we encountered roving teens. Our first night there we passed a pack of them as we were going to buy $3 waters at the on-site convenience store. One of them said "what's up" to us, which was apparently the most hilarious thing in the world. Yes, I've reached an age where my mere existence is comic gold for teenagers. Then on the way back, fancy waters in hand, we passed three teenage boys; I overheard one saying "I bet down here we're gonna meet some girls." And how. Everyone gets laid in the Dells. Especially if they're sleeping next to their twelve-year-old brother on a rollaway bed in their parents' room.
And let us not forget the phenomenon of the Dells bro. They were fewer in number, but no lesser in quality. You found them gathered around the "extreme" slides, where a trap door opens and you plummet five stories, talking about how extreme they were. You found them reserving "cabanas" next to the pool, presumably so they had somewhere to drink their Natty Lights, listen to Train, and rub suntan lotion on one another in peace. And in a scenario I swear I am not making up, you found them playing insanely aggressive water basketball against 50-year-old men in a wading pool while children looked on from the sidelines, wondering where it all went wrong. Poetry in motion, I tell you.
Did I mention that we went to a restaurant where the food was delivered on miniature trains? A chicken sandwich really does taste better when it's unsoiled by the taint of human-based delivery.
