A general rule about Busch Gardens and Six Flags: These parks want you on the damn ride and off the damn ride. There are no stories to invest in, no real themes. If you come to the front of the line for a rollercoaster, and there is no one there directing you into rows, and there are a bunch of people waiting behind you, GET INTO A ROW ON YOUR OWN. It's not hard. I'm pretty sure an idiot (a person of the lowest order in a former classification of mental retardation, having a mental age of less than three years old and an intelligence quotient under 25, according to Dictionary.com) could figure this out. So lady and your huge family, get with the program.
I got sidetracked. Give me a moment.
OK. Good day, recipe for a good day.
Go visit the Clydesdales. They're huge. Give them some purpose in their large lives. When that's done, take the person you care about the most and sit next to her on some great rollercoasters, including Sheikra, which terrified us both. In a good way. We went on it twice, the second time riding in the front row. It's a good terrified.
Then, avoid the skankily-dressed girls (I mean, really, I've seen too much flesh today, bad flesh), and go to the tiger exhibit where you can stick your head up into a glass hutch that allows you to literally stand three inches away from a sleeping tiger's face. It's freaking amazing. I wish I brought a camera...
Lastly, bring a camera. You want to save these memories. You want a photograph of a tiger face to face with you as he wakes up and stares at you before he disregards you and falls back asleep. You'll have a good day. Stay away from the skanks, Gwazi--a rollercoaster that rattles enough to make you think a tooth will come out of your skull on the next turn, or maybe the next, oh please stay in molar--bring some money for some frozen lemonades, and get out of there before it rains.
There. Now go and have a good day like I did.
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