Event Hosted By Yvonne Start slideshow Rager at Raging Waters Written By Yvonne 07/13/2006 click for full size Getting Cool at Raging Waters What comes to mind when thinking about water parks? Gushing tunnels of water and spray? Miles of twisted metal piercing the sky? The human body hurdled through space? The exhilaration of dropping to earth at great speeds and slammed into hard water? If you are Tom and Nora, it’s kids peeing in the pool. Their dread, my dismissal of such dread. My weighed calculation having won out. July 2 was hot, southern California hot with the sage hills blazing and the asphalt sizzling like an In and Out griddle. Cool water beckoned. With the miracle and aid of cell phones Nora and Tom and Chuck, my boyfriend, and I, managed to meet at the ticket turnstile and take advantage of discount tickets compliments of Albertsons that we were clued into but did not bring. I mention this because Nora is from Connecticut and very thrifty and so am I. She takes napkins from ice-cream shops and stores them in her purse; I wash the plastic bags from the produce sections and wash and reuse them. She and I have done many events together, and this understanding of wise money management has always served us to get along agreeably. I think the idea of a discount eased all our minds about being forcibly dipped in urine-spiked pools. It was my idea and I led the way. We were probably the only single couples enjoying the recreational possibilities of the place, where families with children ruled the slides. But we looked kinda hot. Nora, garnering stares, had her booty shorts on, her comely backside, amazingly defying gravity. Tom sported this full-on testosterone-beard and a pair of trunks, that when seen from the side, its illustration of a liquor bottle, looked suggestive and manly. Chuck wore his board shorts better than any adolescent hard body, his taunt muscular chest and abs glistening in the San Dimas sun as the droplets of water heightened the effect of ready… excuse me I’m in love and lust. As I was saying…Chuck longer than all of us and laden with dense muscle, made the most terrific splashes. And I wore a two-piece in gingham that not once got caught on a rivet or got hosed off in the turbulence. Than God for that. The first ride was short and fast and spun us around until we almost got whip lash and spit us out hard onto the waiting water, where I was pressed deep enough and long enough that the lifeguard grew concerned and almost had to rescue me---out of three feet of water. But we all emerged with that loony look of people who enjoy being tossed violently in a harmless tourist attraction. We were ready for more. Unfortunately, one cannot pile on these turbulent experiences in quick succession, because queuing for a greater part of an hour is much a part of the tantalizing ordeal. Our suits dried, we talked and laughed continuously, while Tom mused on the economic opportunities missed by not catering to the thirst of those plodding through the lines. All the rides had tempestuous names, things like Angry Blow Hole or Seething Chunnel, and we, liking to be harried by such menacing concourses, took all but two. There were rides where it was like a brutal trip down the uterine shoot, and others where two shared a figure 8 shaped inner tube, washing down the wet slippery slopes, and screaming merrily together. Others, all four of us manned a plastic raft and coursed up and down the jet-streamed cannons, smashing from one lip to the edge of the other, bonding through a common dementia. We went to the kiddie area and doused victims below us with buckets of water and got cold-splattered by a giant coconut head. Only the Amazon Adventure, with its watery track clogged with those on inner tubes, and the less lucky slogging through the bubblers and waterfalls like shipwrecked survivors to the Jamaican shore, was mellowing, which caused Nora to exclaim,” They’re walking! Why are they walking?” The very slowly served fast food and refreshing blue slurpees (or were they Icees?) could not hold over our appetite for the whole day, so after we left the park, we went into La Canada Flintridge, to Taylor’s, and slipped into cool leather banquets for dinner and had steaks served in all kinds of soul soothing ways. We had defied the rapids and we deserved to gnaw on red meat. Tom ordered a great red wine and we were satisfied. A few days later, on the 4th, I discovered a legacy of that wild outing, painful and serious. At the request of the doctor I peed into a cup, and suspicious floaties were found stowed away, proving the initial fears of Tom and Nora right. I think of myself as barely mobile raging waters and will probably do so until I finish my antibiotics this weekend. Have a good summer all! More Photos

POST EVENT FEEDBACK >>

Comments
Tinna	:) Looks like a lot of fun. I now know what I'm missing out on by being in SF. Hehe. :)
Hilary	Yvonne sorry to hear bout the bladder infection, but at least it sounded like you had a fun day! Ah well, live and learn, huh?
Nora	:) Yvonne, this is great! Tears are gleefully streaming down my face! Great description, pictures and captions! You forgot one thing, though - Tom's horror movie-worthy yelp to frighten the bejeezus out of me before my very first water park ride ever!