America’s Roller Coast

The second part of my vacation took place after the last post – fortunately by that point we were out of New England so the drivers were approaching sanity again. Although….there’s something to be said for listening to your dad’s reactions to the incredible reckless driving.

Now, that aside, our final stop on vacation was Cedar Point, the best roller coaster park in America and possible the world. You’d have to ask my brother, he knows a ridiculous amount about coasters. Anyway, I enjoyed the time I spent actually on the coasters, but not the time spent literally anywhere else. It was a VERY hot day and bright and sunny for the most part (more on that later). Which means I hated it. I spent the entire time the sun was out feeling like a slug or something, coated in a constant film of mingled sweat and sunscreen.

That and there were people EVERYWHERE, constantly talking and making noise. Thank God we went on a Wednesday, because that meant there was a significantly smaller amount of attendees than there would be on, say, the weekend. Yeah, no thanks, there were plenty just that Wednesday. At least there was actually space in which to do things, not like my high school’s hallways.

Oh, and the coasters were really good. When I strap myself down my brain decides that now is the best time to review all the things that could possibly go wrong and what would happen to me if they did. Unhelpful in the extreme. I suspect it was lodging a protest of some sort. Anyway this continues until I get to the top of the hill, at which point we go down and I’m too busy enjoying the ride to think about things like death and dismemberment.

So yeah, the coasters were amazing, but I didn’t really think they were worth the sheer agony of the waiting for them. Didn’t help that I was developing a headache at the time, but that’s situational. Eventually we had to go back to the hotel because it started storming – the parking lot could have done with some storm drains, because it was literally half a foot underwater in places. Since I’d purchased one of those woven conical hats and was wearing it to keep the rain out of my face I felt like some sort of Vietnamese rice farmer. There’s a certain point where you give up keeping your feet dry because your socks have turned into sponges and you make this squelching noise with every footstep. Not fun.

But that was not the most important thing on the trip. There’s a place near Dayton, Ohio that sells red velvet cake malts. Which are exactly as good as they sound, if not better. Worth the vacation just for that.

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