The Quassy Re-Do

You may recall last summer, when I opened a written can of whoop-ass on the joke of the completely unamusement park that is Quassy. If it’s not clear from the fact that I’m still angry at Natalie Wood (that’s her real name) for giving me chicken pox in TENTH GRADE, I carry a mean grudge. (Natalie, name the time and place and I will bring my chicken pox-scarred ass there to fight you.) And believe you me, I’m still pretty incensed that this sham of an amusement park dared to close after about 7 minutes of drizzle on an otherwise beautiful day and didn’t even refund our parking money. They did, however, give us free passes for this season, but only for the month of May and June. Well, joke’s on you, Quassy, because we rolled in four deep on the last mother-huggin’ day of June like we owned the place. And guess what? We reused our old parking pass too. Boom.

I hate to admit it, but as I watched my kids radiate joy as they slid down water slides, swung on swings, and tried to annihilate another family with water balloons, I felt my white hot anger towards Quassy start to fade. At one point, I was eating a baked potato loaded with butter and sour cream (between us, a greater weakness than nachos) and watching both my kids act as magician’s assistants, and I felt a shift in my feelings toward Quassy. Could I, dare I, kind of love Quassy?

Side note: we’ve stepped up our photo acting game.

First thing we did was eat lunch in our private cabana, which we did not reserve and did not pay for.

You poked the wrong beehive, Quassy! (Is that an expression? If it’s not, I’m the beehive, and this cabana-stealing is my sting, if that wasn’t clear.)

Then we suited up and hit the water park. Obviously I couldn’t take any photos, but there were little guy water slides, which George rode 100 times, and big kid water slides, which Hazy and I completely dominated. There was also one of those splash pads with a truly humungous water bucket that fills up and dumps all over everyone. Plus, these water guns where I got into what I think was a playful water war with this 12-year old boy. If it wasn’t playful, I apologize for ruthlessly pelting you with water while laughing maniacally, buddy.

This is the Bullet Bowl, which Hazy and I rode down in a dual float. You can see the giant bucket in the background and a private cabana that we neglected to steal in the foreground. Next time!

We battled in bumper cars, we rode giant swings, and Hazy and I braved the Wooden Warrior roller coaster at least four times.

We also ran into some old friends of Matty’s from NYC, and happened to walk by this Water Wars thing, so we did what anybody would: we challenged them to a water war. I’d like to say we destroyed this other family with our merciless force and flawless aim, but in truth, I bumped my head pretty badly trying to dodge their water balloons, George mostly lingered outside of the shelter, and we hit ourselves at least twice with friendly fire.

At least we didn’t get booed?

At the end of the day, we’d spent about $20 (on ice cream and one loaded baked potato) and we had about $1,000 worth of fun. There’s a certain joy I get from riding water slides and a certain sense of satisfaction I get from sticking it to the man, and when you put it together, that’s just magic. We even rang the “Quassy fun bell” that means you had a fun day, and this time, it was unironically.

Ding ding ding! Suck it, Quassy. (Just kidding, we’re cool now.)

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