A Great Adventure

I woke up with a terrific hangover this morning, the sort of headache and nausea that could easily move a lesser man to swear off alcohol and cancel all future "business trips". In self-defense, however, I soon found myself perched at the bar, where I discovered mere Bloody Mary's weren't going to solve this problem. No, I had gone way too far on Friday night, mixing red wine and Grand Marnier and that one-eyed drive home. I needed my excesses beaten out of me the way they used to punish sinners. And what better person to enlist for such punishment, than the man responsible for the majority of these mornings?

Enter Vaughn, my bartender. Didn't take long at all for make the necessary arrangements, and in short time we were in the car headed north to the closest roller coaster park.

But you know as well as I do, when you put a drunk and his drunk bartender together for an hour or so in a closed space like a moving car, something wayward is bound to happen. In this case, wayward moved us across to a 12-pack of Natural Light, because that son-of-a-bitch didn't think to grab a bottle of Korski and juice to make our trip easier. By the time we saw the Great Adventure sign, I was throwing up in my mouth after every cold sip. Needless to say, Vaughn appeared to be holding up better than me.

And we just continued down into the maelstrom after that, during which time we waited in hellishly long lines to get on mindbending rides. At least the ones that were open, because two of their major attractions were fucking shut down. Bastards.

Thinking was far from me on this fine fall day, because my bright idea to play some boardwalk game quickly resulting in getting my ass kicked by Vaughn who chose a purple dolphin as his prize, and me somehow carrying that fucking thing all over the park all day. So there I am, wandering around somewhere between drunk and sick, in a "Jesus Hates Me" shirt, staring at teenaged tits from behind the sanctuary of my sunglasses, and carrying a purple stuffed dolphin. Oh, wait, I almost forgot about the monsters.

Yes, Great Adventure is a festive place, so when you go spend a weekend there in the autumn season, you get assaulted by staff in costumes. Now I've heard what some of those twisted fuckers have gotten away with at Disneyworld in these outfits, but no matter how many I hugged, not a one grabbed me "the wrong way". Prudes.

The hangover made it home with me, after all that, and at least on some subconscious level, I acquired a new fetish for Furries. Until next time, keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times.