Intentionally Paving the Road to Hell Little Thoughts

What Did a Water Park Ever Do to Me? (Or… Stay Home, Dammit)

If you know me, you know that I am a tremendous fucking killjoy. No, really, I am. The good part of this is that during this pandemic, I am adjusting pretty easily to the fact that it is the accepted and smiled upon and morally correct thing to do to just keep your ass home. Home home. I get that if you live in a tiny apartment with no backyard or access to some sort of greenspace, that is its own sort of detriment and you do what you have to, right? But there are people who are going to fucking casinos. For fuck sake, you don’t need to go to one of those ever. (And before anyone says “Oh, well, no one needs to go to the aquarium or an art museum…” Fuck off. You don’t need to go the casino. Seriously, find some other way to blow off steam.)

People are going to theme parks. Fucking Disney, Universal, water parks. One of the kiddie theme parks up where my parents are… Storyland or Santa’s Village, I can’t remember which… is open for the season. Kids like… chew on everything. Trust me. I’ve seen board books come back to the library that we could have gotten enough DNA from that we could clone an official “library baby” for libraries all over the world and still be able to check its ancestry with one of those “spit fifteen gallons of saliva into this vial” tests. (I must note right now: libraries do not clone babies or send their drool from board books out for analysis. That’s fucking nasty.)

It’s a terrible idea, friends. Not just because there is a ton of “p” in pools (pppppppppppppppppppool), but you may well find yourself in an area of the country where you don’t know the hospital situation and there are places… a lot of places… that can’t take any increase in capacity because they’re hanging on by a thread as it is. A lot of those places are tourist destinations… so you get sick there, you’re kinda gonna find you’re fucked, and if you leave but also leave a virus for the locals who love your business but hate your fucking germs, they’re also really, really, really fucked. And most of them don’t love your business that much, so please don’t rely on that to absolve you of any guilt or misgivings about travel. You are not spending enough on your weekend at Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket to make Aunt Marilyn’s death worth it. Sorry. Because tourist towns may have rich, swanky houses and destinations, but they generally, the full time residents don’t live in those rich, swanky houses.

And because I grew up primarily in a tourist town and I can be so New England it fucking hurts, you can wear a mask but I just don’t fucking trust you. I don’t trust me, okay? There were shit tons of people who were clearly surprised when they learned you should wash your hands frequently for at least twenty seconds using soap and water in order to sufficiently eliminate germs. These people were fully grown, mature, seemingly normal people, who did not know this. So when I say to you it wasn’t a surprise to me, but I totally suck at doing it reliably and I can’t really be completely sure I cleaned the back of my thumb or the outside edge of the palm of my hand closer to the wrist for the required amount of time… I don’t trust you, because I don’t trust me, and while I don’t always hit the nail on the head, I am pretty sure I am right to feel this way about humanity in general. We try. We have good intentions. We fuck up. A lot. Stupid little stuff that gets us killed. And we don’t even realize.

You don’t need a vacation. Well, you don’t need to leave the state to go on vacation. Stay home. If you get sick, you know the situation at home. If you get sick, it is easier to know and follow up with all of the people who potentially were exposed in the places you’ve been (places you probably haven’t been to in years, and are really pretty cool, now that you think about it.)

I’m worried about my parents. I’m worried about Paul’s dad and his sister. I wish I could worry about his mom, but I still worry about her partner. I am worried about Paul and I, because I don’t think either of us really want to get this shit. I have a lovely family history of clotting up and such at an early age without the help of a virus, so yeah, I don’t want it. I don’t want the fucking flu. It’s why I get a fucking flu shot. Being sick sucks.

So stay home. It sucks for you, sure, but it sucks for everyone. Even me, because I can’t go “WAAAAAAAAAAH!” when you say that your trip to Europe was cancelled.

Wait. I totally can. WAAAAAAAAH!

This will pass. This will pass a lot easier once we accept that this here is life at the moment, and life is now, essentially, forever changed, though it will probably be easier to go do shit sooner if we just stay closer to home now. And wear a mask. And wash your hands through the time it takes to listen to the chorus of four Rick rolls.