The Time I Was An Amusement Park Hero

            So, I haven't written a blog post in a really long time. I had to stop during exam week last semester, and then I forgot about it over the summer. Anyway, now that I'm back in school and not distracted by silly stuff, like baking deserts that should simply be named "diabetes" and playing with kitty cats, I've decided to start writing again. I'll begin with a story that occurred this summer.

            Every summer since I moved to Shanghai I've gone back to North Carolina, where I lived for 6 years. I visit my cousins, sister, aunts, uncles, and niece. This means that it's a common occurrence to go to the local amusement park that resides halfway in North Carolina and halfway in South Carolina. This summer was no different.

            We actually visited the park twice this summer, as tickets were on sale for half price. Once was just my cousin and I, and the second time we went with three friends. We spent the morning going on various rides and water slides, and being loud and obnoxious while waiting in line. By lunch time two of our friends left and our group was down to three. The three of us continued on, saving the best rides (which just so happened to have the longest lines) for last.

            It was about 8:30 pm when we finally lined up for my favorite ride. It's this ride where you lie on your back while going up the hill and then get flipped over just as you begin to drop, so it's like you're Superman for the remainder of it. The line was so ridiculously long that by the time we had been in line for an hour we hadn't even made it close to the front.

            Usually the park attendants rope off the lines an hour before closing, but apparently that rule doesn't apply to the fast pass lane. People kept walking on by the rest of us in the regular line making the wait even longer. Everyone was starting to get restless, including our line buddies we had made while waiting.

            Our line buddies were a group of three guys about my age, and a girl a bit younger than me who was accompanied by her mom. Since two of the boys were cute I said something like, "I’m gonna tell the next person who tries to through the fast pass lane that they closed it." Standard talk to make yourself look cooler and braver than you actually are (which, by the way, I am neither).

            So, of course I chickened out. More people passed us and the guys started to doubt my badassery. However, at about the same time we hit the 1 hour and 30 minutes mark I decided that enough was enough. I climbed under the bars into the fast pass lane, dragged a trashcan to the middle of the lane, and then reclaimed my spot in line. Unfortunately, my sad attempt at a roadblock was only met by laughter from the cute boys and ignored by a group of fast passers.

            But I did not surrender! The next chance I got I snuck through the bars again and went in search of another trashcan. I found one near the front of the line and dragged it to where the other one sat waiting. I lined the two up, blocking about 80% of the lane, and once again rejoined our group.

            Everyone watched the trashcans for the next few minutes. Finally, they were put to the test. A man walked up to the trashcans, stared at them, looked around, and then left, confused. The part of the line that had stood close by watching anxiously broke into a small round of applause. One of the boys congratulated me on my engineering skills. It was an overall success.

            More and more people kept coming to the trashcan barrier and becoming perplexed. Eventually they started to line up behind it, as if maybe an attendant would meet them there to take them to the ride. The line started to go faster, and eventually we made it to the stairs, which meant that it would soon be our turn.

            That's when an attendant really did go find the fast pass people. They had somehow found out about the trashcans, and removed them. However, by that point we were so close to being on the ride that we decided to just be happy that it had lasted as long as it had. It didn't take long for us to finally ride the rollercoaster; and while waiting in line I was even personally thanked by two preteen boys, to which I replied, "Thanks, I like to think of myself as the Carowinds hero."

            Although the ride lasted all of one minute and we had spent so long waiting for it we didn't get to ride anything else I will forever remember the night as the night I conquered the fast pass lane. And I'm sure the tale of the Carowinds hero will forever be told by everyone who was lucky enough to witness it.

The Time I Bit My Sister's Head

My sister and I are almost exactly 11 years apart, so while growing up we were in completely different age groups. This meant no bickering over toys, boys or anything in between. In addition to this, we didn’t live together for many years, and when I moved to China at 9, I only saw her rarely. So, one would think there was no reason to argue growing up.

I, for one, have very little recollection of ever fighting with my sister as a young child. Unfortunately, she has the proof of wars fought. She’s kept all of my hate mail and apology letters over the years. Of course, seeing the letters have worked as a sort of reminder, allowing old memories to come rushing back.

There are some pretty funny letters. For example, one of the letters I once wrote to her was “sealed with a booger” (as opposed to with a kiss), which I believed to be a stroke of genius. The funniest letter, though, is the one I wrote after I bit my sister’s head. I’m not really sure on the details, but the gist is that my sister said something I deemed to be “mean.” So, of course, I chose to retaliate.

As a kid I was a biter. Biting was my go-to move in a fight. But I wasn’t the conventional bite somebody’s arm type. I mean if that’s all I could get to then fine, but I more preferred unconventional biting. I remember carefully calculating what would be the most effective way to bite her head. I decided that a basic “hit her skull with my teeth and bite down on her scalp” would do the trick.

Obviously I was punished, and told to write an apology note. I didn’t remember the apology note until I read it last year. The note read, word for word, “Sorry for biting your head. But now you know to be careful what you say to me. I love you. Love, Jeanie.” I signed it and everything. 

Real sweet kid I was. “Sorry I got in trouble but I’m not sorry I did it.” The funny part though is that I usually was a sweet kid.  I was quiet and shy and I usually did what my mom told me. I guess I just had an evil side.

The Time I Locked My Cousin In A Closet

So, before I start this story let it be known that my cousin and I (who are practically like sisters) have a pretty dysfunctional relationship. We are so close that we occasionally spoon and hold hands. It’s not weird.

Despite my undying love for my cousin (still not weird) I haven’t always been the nicest person to her. I used to give her “love slaps,” which basically entailed me slapping her very hard to show her how much I loved her. However, I think a game my friend and I used to play with her tops anything else I've ever done to her.

For a while my friend’s and my favorite game was Cowboys and Indians. I’m sure a lot of kids have played this. However, our version was probably a little crueler. It actually originated as a game another friend and I used to play with my cousin, and when my cousin moved to the US the game the tradition continued with a new player.

            The premise of the game was simple. There was a Cowboy (always played by my cousin) and some Indians (always played by my friend and me). The Indians would capture the Cowboy and tie her up and place her in a closet. Then the Indians would hide and the Cowboy would escape and come find them. 

            This is where it starts to get mean. Our friend (who was 6 years old at the time) and I (8 years old) would tie up my cousin (4 years old) with the intent of her never getting free. Then, we would place her in the closet and lock the door. So that, even if she did get through the tightly bound ropes on her hands, feet, and waist, she wouldn’t be able to get out of the closet.

            Obviously, we always won. Eventually her mother would have to just go looking for her and set her free, and by that point our friend and I had already moved onto another game.

            Yes, it was a cruel game. Yes, we were evil little children. But the point is, at the end of the day we still loved her, despite being a little vicious. We let her get away with whatever she wanted (unless what she wanted was to be an Indian instead of a Cowboy). We’re all still super close today, and are able to look back on this event and laugh. 

Well, at least two-thirds of us are. 

The Time I Witnessed A Lady-Boy Hooker Work His Magic

Disclaimer: this post will have language unsuitable for those with impressionable minds, who do not like the mention of lady-boys, and who do not like chocolate. If you don’t like chocolate stop reading, because you are obviously not human, and I do not want a monster reading my blog.

So, this story is probably in my top ten favorite things to tell people about myself. (Also on that list is the fact that I’m probably Incan royalty, and that I used to want to be a fire truck when I was a kid). I had initially planned on saving this story for a later date, but it’s a nice memory I have with my best friends from high school, and I really miss them.

At the end of my senior year of high school my best friends and I took a grad trip to Koh Samui, Thailand. Practically everyone from my year went there for their grad trip. I had saved money all year for the trip, and after our graduation we finally left. The trip was basically a week of doing whatever we wanted.

Every day in Koh Samui followed the same formula. We woke up, got breakfast at the hotel restaurant, lied on the beach all day, and ate lunch on the beach. Then we went home, put on our faces and a cute outfit and went out for dinner. Typically, dinner was accompanied with cocktails, and afterwards we headed for a bar. Then, when it was sufficiently late we headed to the “it club,” the Green Mango, and danced the night away.

The night of this story was a bit different, though. Some of my friend’s friends invited us to go to their hotel to hang out on the beach for a while after the club. When we got back to our hotel at about five in the morning we were starving. The street vendors were still up and running, so we ordered some Pad Thai and began to scarf it down.

However, as we were eating, a rather skimpily dressed lady-boy hooker (Thailand is known for them) drove by on a scooter yelling, “NOBODY FUCK ME TONIGHT!”

 I’m not even kidding.

Obviously my best friends and I were all amused so we kind of giggled to ourselves but continued to eat. She/he came back to the corner where we were eating and sidled up to a middle aged, chunky, white man.  His greeting to the man was, “I have big dick for you. I have nice, big dick for you.”

Our eyes were huge by this time, but the conversation only continued. The white man politely shook his head and laughed saying, “No thanks, I have a girlfriend.” That’s when the lady-boy argued, “I think you have boyfriend, not girlfriend.”

We didn’t hear the rest of their conversation because we were beside ourselves at this point. We were trying to contain our laughter, but we couldn’t keep quiet. One of my friends began to make remarks in Chinese.  We were in Thailand, so we figured Chinese would be safe.

We thought wrong. The white man must have sensed our amusement, because he started to yell at us, something along the lines of, “What? You think this is funny? You’re judging me?” We realized that it was probably time to make an exit, so we quickly got up and ran across the street to our hotel.

I can’t remember much else after this, but I remember that we were really excited to tell people about what had happened. I even told my parents when I got back from the trip.

Now that I haven’t seen my friends in about a year and a half I’m so thankful that we were able to take this trip together. It was a great way to say goodbye to each other before we left for college. Also, it resulted in the great night of the lady-boy hooker on a scooter.