I cannot begin to describe the amount of bad tattoos I saw today at Water Country. “Don’t forget to drink lots of water,” the man at the front gate told me. “People are passing out all over the park.”
What he failed to mention was that people weren’t passing out from the heat; they were passing out from over-exposure to tribal armbands.
Hey, a lot of us have tattoos that we wish we could remove. Something we didn’t think through, something we got with an ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend, something that was done sloppily, or perhaps lyrics from a band that now makes us cringe.
I have all of the above: I have DJ Tiesto lyrics on my ankle after a relationship with a guy who had a red Chrystler LeBaron with fuzzy leopard print dice hanging from the mirror. I have sloppy AFI lyrics on both wrists that I got hours before I had to be at work. I have a Celtic knot on my lower back that looks more like an arrow to my back door than a tribute to my time spent in Ireland. I wouldn’t trade any of them for the world, and for the sake of everyone at Water Country today,
I hope all their shitty tattoos hold as much sentimental value as mine do.
Among the walking crap-estries seen today at Water Country, my friend Marie and I also interacted with a number of really interesting people. While running about soaking wet in our bathing suits, we encountered “grab your bare feet in the lazy river” man, “stare at your chest for so long you have to turn away” guy, “hey your boob is out but I’m not going to tell you” kid, and
“hey, are you two lesbians” dude.
It may be summer, a time of year in which we don lesser clothing and opt to do things like go to public water parks, but as Marie and I left today, all we could really think about is how “grab your bare feet” guy was sharing a raft in a dark water tunnel with us long enough for me to experience something similar to the train ride from Eurotrip. Also crossing my mind was the fact that for the majority of the day we just made noises like “UGH” and said things like, “RUN!” and “We should get tested,” and how the lazy river was indeed, lazy, but also slightly rapey.
Two thumbs up from Bar Havoc. We plan on returning next week.
Bored?! Beat the heat and get you and your stupid tattoos down to Water Country! And if you really can’t stand the 98-degree heat—along with that tattoo you got cause you were really into 98 Degrees—hit up Delete Salon on Newbury Street. Those things come off, you know.
And it doesn’t have to hurt.