A Friday Night at 15.

Ran into a little dilemma on Friday night.The dilemma's name is Mark, and he is 15.

Mark is Chuck's cousin (you can review Mark here, here, and here). He's a freshman. He's fantastic. I met Mark when he was a first grader which makes me want to die a little. The saddest part of Mark's life is that memories without Me in them are going to become few and far between as he ages. Poor, poor Mark. He never asked for this. I want to feel bad, it's just that I don't. He may not have asked for it, but he had it coming.

Mark decided to take a little 15 year old vacation and picked us as his Spring Break destination. Apparently, Cancun is not an option for high schoolers. Who knew? But seriously, why wouldn't he want to come hang with us? We are amazing. Our lifestyle, fabulous.

But Mark coming to visit presented an interesting challenge. What can you do with a 15 year old?? How do you show a 15 year old a good time? High on the list was not breaking any laws. Because first off, he's 15. Second, he's a minor. As in, under 18, can't sign for himself, needs a legal guardian/babysitter/life coach for any and all waivers.

Good news. I can be Mark's legal guardian/babysitter/life coach and sign for him. Bad news. I can be Mark's legal guardian/babysitter/life coach and sign for him. Mark was conflicted. He was both thrilled at the possibilities this opened in our Friday night line-up and horrified at the implications it made on his life.

No worries. Chuck and I showed him a grand time. We pulled out all the stops. We do Friday nights right for the 15 year old's life style. We toured the fancy smancy cars so Mark could drool over the Lotus' he can't have. We drove go-karts. They were amazing. I shouldn't be allowed to drive those things. Ever. And we went Indoor Trampoline-ing (that's a word now).

Indoor trampoline-ing was life changing.
It was at a questionable level of cleanliness.
But at a high level of awesomeness.


This place was everything we hoped it could be.
And more.
Trampolines down the length of the warehouse. Up the walls. Dodgeball courts.

And the creme de la creme: The Foam Pits.

We spent the majority of our time at The Foam Pit. They were amazing, especially if you didn't consider the filth on them that could make the Chuck E Cheese ball pits look like a Clean Room. Oh and if you bathed in purel, before, during, and after. It was like a freedom pit. Land on your neck: no problem. It's foam. Smash your face: no worries. It's foam. It's freaking foam and it was freaking awesome. I'm sorry. I'm just a little passionate about this place. And The Foam Pit.



You could do gainers.
Twists.
Backflips.
Any kind of flip you want.

Unless your name was Susie.

Evidently, I am not a flipper. My body -- it just doesn't work that way. I'm so uncoordinated that running cross country in high school was, at times, too rhythmic. I can't think that way: to let myself flip over itself. Yeah. That's not really how I roll (pun intended).

It was pathetic. Run up. Stop. Walk back in shame.
Run up. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Walk back in shame.
Run up. Jump. Face plant. Walk back. In shame. Of course.

It got to the point that a couple of 18 year olds stopped by to ask Chuck if "she'd flipped yet". Nope. They stayed to watch. Who wouldn't? I'm a real crowd pleaser. Especially once the tantrums started. I was the textbook definition of Train Wreck.

The problem, we would later determine, was that I wasn't given the right directions for how to do a flip. You be the judge. Chuck gave me these directions in the beginning:
Take a few good strides, don't hesitate, stare at the foam, jump, tuck, and roll.

Fail.

So, the 18 year olds gave me their suggestions for how to flip:
Take a few good strides, don't hesitate, stare at the foam, jump, tuck, and roll.

Bam.

First try.
Those guys explained it so much clearer.
It may have been that they were geniuses.
And that I wasn't married to them. Sometimes, I disregard Chuck out of spite. Selective hearing.

Bottom line: this place was awesome.
I left feeling euphoric.
I also left feeling like I needed a slurpee, a shower, and a rabies test.
And now I'm wondering if you can catch fibromyalgia because the pain/soreness/late twenties stiffness won't go away.

It's been 3 days.
We are going back a-sap.
A-sap.

5 comments:

  1. THe inability to flip has got to be genetic. I got it too. Love your blog. Love you too. Its been too long.

    -Your middle cousin in Crime

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  2. Where the heck is this place?! I MUST go there A-SAP!

    ReplyDelete
  3. BTW This is what Fe should get you for your next birthday or Christmas....An Epiphanie camera bag! A photgrapher girlfriend of mine just got one and she loves it and i thought about you since you pretty much sleep with your camera. I think they might have a color to match your arm warmers too!!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Dooooooooode. What is this place? I wanna flip too. I want to bounce. Seriously.

    ReplyDelete
  5. do tell. where is secret foam place? i want to go. u make foam jumping look fun! i want to go at 34 weeks pregnant even! NOT!!! Ok maybe in a few months! how much?

    ReplyDelete

Tell me about it. Oh and thanks for validating my life.

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