The Waterpark

‘Dad! Dad!’ Ben cried as he and Billy ran across the park, ‘can we go on the Crush ’n Gusher?’

Jim was hating life ‘On you go’ his wife Rosie chuckled, ‘you take the boys and I’ll hold down the fort with Stacy.’ Ben and Billy dragged Jim across Typhoon Lagoon to stand in line for an age just to spend thirty-seconds going breakneck speed down a plastic pipe into something that resembled water.

Jim didn’t hate the waterpark, as an architect he appreciated the design and construction of the park; no he hated the people in the park. It was the army of the great unwashed here on package holidays with their hyperactive children, it was the disdainful staff that would rather be anywhere but here, and it was the spoiled entitled brats with their “VIP” passes that let them skip all the queues.

Every year was the same; two weeks holiday somewhere sunny with access to a waterpark or a theme park, often both and all because Rosie wanted a tan and the boys were determined to visit every theme park and waterpark in the world. Jim was certain that if they ever opened up a waterpark on the Moon his boys would be first in line. Jim wanted to see the world but was always outvoted by four-to-one. At least they agreed to take a day to visit historical sights, not that Florida had many of those.

He stood with the boys in the queue for the Crush ’n Gusher, what an appealing name Jim thought sarcastically to himself. Jim and the boys were in the queue for about five minutes when Billy and Ben ran yelling ‘Hold our spot Dad, we’re going on the Humunga Kowabunga!’

‘Fantastic’ Jim cried out in disbelief; here he was waiting in line for a ride he had no desire to go on and his two waterpark fanatics just ran off to have fun, why did they even bother asking him along. As he stood in the blazing Florida sun contemplating the nature of his life, he was reminded of two fundamental reasons why he hated going to waterparks. Firstly it was the smell, it didn’t seem to bother anyone else but him. It was the most pervasive aroma; the pungent bouquet of blood, sweat, pish, and sunscreen, it reminded him of Kelvingrove Park during the brief summer periods Glasgow saw. The smell didn’t just hit you, it roughed you up and ran off with your wallet. The second reason was the large number of teenage girls who wore as little as humanly possible and still be classed as dressed. Jim felt like a pervert standing in front of them.

Time had passed and Jim was getting closer to his goal of going down the slide on a rubber ring when his boys came running up to him; they were arguing over who won and it wasn’t long before they resorted to childish name calling, insults such as “doodie head” and “tax inspector” were thrown about which made Jim chuckle. There wasn’t really any comeback from Tax Inspector. Ben called Billy a “substitute teacher” and Jim stifled a laugh, he had been corrected, but Billy took the persiflage to the next level and called Ben an “arsehole” which was promptly followed by “So’s yer Maw” from Ben. Jim was black afronted ‘Where did you learn that word?’ He commanded, ‘you shouldn’t be using such language!’

Ben and Billy looked up at him with innocent eyes ‘We heard you say it to your boss last week’ ben replied.

Jim hadn’t even thought about the boys when he was in a zoom call with his boss. He had ended the call and muttered the expletive in a fit of rage when his boss demanded he work during his holiday ‘And we heard Stacy shouting insults at her boyfriend yesterday.’

Stacy was home from St. Andrews University and had just broken up with her boyfriend after it was revealed he was having an affair with Mavis, the seventy-five year old lunch lady. ‘Don’t let me hear you using language like that again’ Jim commanded.

They were nearing their destination, the end was in sight when Ben turned round and yelled at the top of his voice ‘That girl has huge boobs.’

Jim’s jaw dropped at his son’s outspokenness which was promptly followed by Billy saying, ‘Look at her boyfriends trunks, he has a massive willy.’

Jim was willing the ground to swallow him up wholesale, he’d never live this level of embarrassment down. He feared he would be thrown out of the park at this rate with everyone thinking his family were a bunch of creeps but thankfully everyone around him started laughing. Grasping on to what little composure, dignity and self-respect he had left; he took the boys to the slide to which the boys grabbed their ring and proceeded to do their best Cool Runnings impression down the slide with Ben calling out as they did ‘Last one to the bottom is a massive cunt!’

Jim could feel the veins in his forehead throb as he seethed with anger. He dived into the slide adjacent and would throttle his two eight year olds when he found them. As the ring picked up speed Jim began to feel less stressed, as if the ride were literally washing his cares away. He was on the verge of actually enjoying himself when the speed picked up and sent him careening into a discarded ring that had gotten stuck from the previous rider. The ring slapped Jim in the face as he barrelled into it at top speed, who new a rubber ring could hurt so much, he yelled out in pain ‘Ah ye bastard!’

He emerged from the ride with a face redder than beetroot to see his two sons running off singing “Ah ye bastard” to everyone within earshot. Jim had decided, he would catch up with his sons and them throw them down the grand Canyon.