A while back, my work decided we all needed a vacation. I agreed, wholeheartedly. Little did I know that my work meant that we all needed a vacation. Together.
And thus it came that we all traversed down to Williamsburg, Virginia and went to Busch Gardens. We thought it only fitting that we should go see something patriotic to start out our Memorial Day Weekend. I don't know, like an eagle or something, maybe?
Oh yes. There we go.
Our first ride was, naturally, the scariest roller coaster at the park.
We teetered on the brink of insanity for a good 5 seconds before plunging down a 270-foot drop and then upside down and et cetera. They take pictures of you on this coaster, and I was caught on camera, as the nerd I truly am, holding my glasses onto my face for dear life. (Leave me alone. They were expensive!)
Needless to say, we did not purchase that photo package.
After our first coaster, we had a basket of fun playing all of the carnival games. (Ha. Get it?)
Our favorite game? Definitely the ring toss.
They gave you a whole bucket of rings for the same price of one play at the other games.
(In retrospect, I realize that this is because it is next to impossible to actually win the ring toss. But that's okay because it makes a delicious little plinking sound when you throw the ring and it bounces off of fifteen glass bottles before falling to the ground between them, and that makes up for the whole Repeatedly Losing thing.)
I have also discerned a theory about carnival games, which goes like this: The bigger the toy prize, the less likely you will win at this game.
Exhibit A: Prizes for winning at the Ring Toss? An enormous purple gorilla.
Exhibit B: Prizes for knocking down a row of wooden clowns with a baseball?
A moderately-sized Mario Brother.
After Steven had won his dear bride a proud armful of plush toys, it was high time to test our strength.
Sehen Sie die starke Frau! Mit dem Hammer! Andere lachen an ihr!
(See the strong woman! With the hammer! Others are laughing at her!)
After I finished making a complete fool of myself, I then proceeded to almost break my foot by almost dropping the eleven-pound hammer on my toes.
The poor kid stationed at this attraction handed me my consolation prize and asked me please to step away from the equipment before I injured myself or others.
Which, of course, meant that it was time for Steven to try!
(He won his own consolation prize -- a pink plush monkey with velcro hands.) Way to go, dear!
After our consecutive displays of brute power, we wandered around in the sunshine, enjoying the day.
It may look beautiful in the picture, but the sun quickly became Public Enemy Number One for me. My shoulders are still quite red, painful, crispy, and well-done.
Note to everyone else: if your skin is close to this color and you haven't been outdoors for two years or so...
... you probably shouldn't go to Busch Gardens for six hours in a tanktop with no sunscreen. Yeah. Probably a bad idea.
Time to find some shade.
After the skyride, we scouted out some frozen lemonade, pausing only to take pictures of ourselves and annoy the weird guy behind us in line.
Sorry guy. But in our defense, you were kinda weird.
The rest of the day was dedicated to documenting our unusual weekend in pictures.
Well-preserved Indian chiefs....
Eponymous wristbands -- nothing was beyond our grasp.
We ended the evening by joining up with the rest of the folks from work at "Das Festhaus," which as you can imagine was full of Bavarian dancers and dudes in knickers. Much festive singing ensued, and Steven and I tried to find something to eat that didn't end in -wurst or -kraut.
And then, as soon as it had begun, it was over. And now its already Tuesday evening. I need another weekend to recover from my weekend.
(Upon recovering from my overexposure to all things sunny and bright, I promise a full Indy review. Promise. Pinky-swear, even.)