But I digress. After loading up the car with all the little cousins, everyone yelling at me for not parking close enough to the entrance, and meeting up with the rest of the family, the day seemed great. The lines weren't long. We even saw a group of Mennonites going on the roller coasters. But as fun as the younger kids are, we wanted some time away. We tried to hand them over to their dad, but that didn't work out--he didn't seem to care where his children were or if they even checked in.
So we ended up in line for the chairlift to the other end of the park with all the little kids in tow (ages 7 to 13, so really not that little, and one 15-year-old stuck in the middle).
My cousin, who I think was 9 at the time, demanded that I ride with her. It's funny, but she has always liked me best, for no apparent reason. As we took off on the relaxing ride, she turned to me and said, "Want to know a secret?"
"Sure."
"Are you sure you can handle it? It's kind of gross."
"I think I can handle it."
"I'm going commando."
"What?!" I could't stop laughing. She then explained that she didn't have any clean underwear (she was on vacation, visiting Utah), and that she had tried to wear her little brother's pull-up (like took it off of his body), but it was too bunchy under her pants. It was even funnier because she had a hole in an unfortunate part of her pants. She surprised me again by making a lesbian joke just before we got off at the other end.
We rode all the rides and babysat in the scorching sun until we had lunch and somehow pulled off getting a table just for the cousins with a high school diploma. The kids inevitably got restless though, so we headed out into the heat. It was unfortunate that Rattlesnake Rapids was closed; there was no chance of cooling down.
My favorite cousin and I, as the oldest, decided that we should look through the museums in the pioneer section. All the kids started complaining. I tried to explain to them that they could go out on their own, but I guess they didn't believe me because they suffered through all the historic shops with us.
Eventually, they wore us down, and we headed back to some other rides. For some reason, Lagoon has gotten ridiculous about letting you take bags on rides. It's really stupid. Anyway, my favorite cousin (the one just a few months older than me) had a small purse with her. Instead of hiding it on the side of the ride and hoping nothing gets stolen, she decided to stuff it up the back of her shirt. It looked like she had some sort of back brace or growth, both of which would probably prevent someone from riding The Spider, a roller coaster that spins your car while going along the track. We were trying to look natural and not laugh, but we were probably failing miserably. But when it was our turn to board the ride, the employees manning the rides turned away at the best possible moment. We slipped in effortlessly.
Then I grew tense when the teenage boy looked at us and said, "Want to know why you two are my favorite?" We just sort of stared at him. "Because you look the best."
Relief and laughter flooded out of us. I thought he was going to say something about us thinking we could sneak things past him. It was great for a teenage boy to poorly flirt with both of us at the same time.
After accepting that we weren't going to get out of babysitting, the day flew by. Soon the bright lights were coming on and it was time to head home. Coordinating with my uncles took forever. No one was answering their phones, and we never made set plans. Luckily, we kept track of all the little kids and we could finally leave the park.
I ended up taking all four of the older cousins, a thirteen-year-old, an eleven-year-old, and the nine-year-old. It started out on a great note.
The hilarious 9-year-old cousin somehow started telling us all this hilarious sassy, witty stuff, and somehow said, "I am 75% sexy."
"What's the other 25%?" I asked.
"Ugly." She said so matter of factly.
Jokes and songs lasted for another ten minutes, until the thirteen-year-old started complaining that she didn't feel well. (Small moral of the story: don't eat a cinnamon roll as big as your face and a whole thing of chocolate milk if you haven't eaten anything all day.) We tried to tell her that it wouldn't be too much longer, but she was on the verge of a major freak out. So I took the next exit, and found the closest gas station. She ran inside.
We were stuck there for awhile and bought tums and a water bottle, so we wouldn't feel bad for using their bathroom. Eventually, we coaxed her out, and made her be by the window seat just in case. Just as we were heading back on the freeway, she freaked again. So I pulled over to the the side of the road, and she got out. We were there for about ten minutes until she calmed down and agreed to get back in the car.
After about ten more minutes of driving, she said she was feeling better, and was even back to laughing. But then it was the 9-year-olds turn to cry.
She had to use the bathroom. I asked if she could wait ten more minutes until we got to the cousins' house where she would spend the night. She said yes, but then we got stuck in late-night construction. And she started screaming that she couldn't wait.
It was horrible timing. Right in the middle of the industrial part of South Salt Lake near the sketchy parts of town, but I pulled off as soon as I could. And then there weren't any gas stations or grocery stores. Every street only had offices or auto parts stores. Finally, I pulled off in a tiny stretch of weeds near some neighborhoods, and told her this was the best option if she really really had to go right then.
My other cousin got out with her, offering to help. Then we heard a menacing dog barking, and it seemed to be getting closer. The previously sick cousin yelled, "Get in the car! It's a dog!" They both jumped in the back seat, imagining an attacker on the pursuit. I sped off.
And luckily we found a 7-11, and didn't have to resort to a scary-looking Mexican mart. Most of the cousins piled out to use the facilities. And I have to say, I was proud of the eleven-year-old, he kept it together the whole time and didn't even complain.
Finally, we were back on the freeway. I just kept telling everyone ten more minutes, ten more minutes. But of course, we ran into more construction and stop-and-go traffic.
Just when I thought we were almost in the clear--I could see the exit--the car stopped functioning. I couldn't push the gas pedal, and the brake was only sort of working. Luckily, traffic was only crawling at ten miles an hour. Of course this happens right when we were calling the parents to give them an update, and they heard me say the car is breaking down before my cousin hangs up. I kept thinking that I could maybe coast to the exit and not have to deal with pulling over, but there was no way I could last that long. So I turned off into the shoulder and restarted the car, praying that it would start like normal.
Thankfully, it did. We called the parents and let them know we would have the children to them in a few minutes. At this point, the younger kids were silent, fighting off sleep and trying not to lose their patience, but the older cousins were laughing. There wasn't anything else to do. What should have taken 45 minutes had taken over 2 hours--and so much had gone wrong!
As we pulled into my cousins' neighborhood, this song came on the radio:
Author's Note: This would be a much better rendition of the story if I believed in using children's names on the internet and disregarded internet privacy and personal information rules. If I had the patience and time to give everyone nicknames and characterizations, you would understand why this day is now one of my favorite stories.
