I finally make it to Blackpool and the heat makes me ill. It was so hot. Despite the breeze from the ocean, the air felt like it had been suspended in a toaster oven. John did all the driving, and I responded by becoming sunburned and crying uncontrollably outside the log ride. We only went on one ride - the haunted house. I can still remember the gross feeling of the soft patches of rubber floor in the darkness, meant to throw you off and make you more susceptible to the flicker of strobe lights around dust-covered mannequins. At the end they made us all sit on a giant round bench and then they spun us around while a plastic gargoyle spit water on us. The first time I opened my eyes I saw his grey gaping grin; the second time I saw the table in the middle of the ride - decked out in Gothic candle holders and white linen flapping under the dishes.
I did have a hot dog, even after being disturbed by this billboard. Also I loved the games rooms that were filled with the deafening mania of coins and individual video theme tunes. Giant skeleton pirates loomed from above, always one stab away from victory against their opponents.
And I love this beach photo, because off all the small pieces of life present in it. I especially like the couple passed out in their chairs, facing the afternoon sun. Bake Us, Oh Holy Orb Of Fire.
Feeling so ill kind of took a lot of the joy out of the day, but looking at the photos now, I am surprised that I would want to go back, if only to go on some more of the rides. But it would have to be a cool day. That much I have learned.
3 comments:
that's a pretty cool weiner
hot dogs are pervs.
Exactly.
Post a Comment