Delta Roadtrip: Pearl River Resort (Part 2)
Editor's note: This is the second in a four part series on the Fourth of July roadtrip to Pearl River Resort. Part 1 can be read here.
As we unloaded the Black Bullet in the parking lot of Geyser Falls the excitement of a five year-old kid on Christmas filled each of our eyes as we saw what had to be the greatest water park in the history of the world before us. Of course, the six-pack of beers apiece on the ride over probably contributed to our dilusional childlike demeanor.
The Locker Room Chronicles
Nevertheless, we chugged the remainder of our beers post haste and made our way to the turnstile with our freshly printed tickets in hand. Once in the park, half of us split off toward the lockers and the other half broke out into nothing short of a sprint for the cabana. Seeing that I was carrying a duffel bag the size of a filing cabinet, I was in the former group.
If the locker room attendee were to give out awards for the most gear crammed in a locker, I would have won the blue ribbon without circumstance. As I leaned my body into my bag in an attempt to make it fit, little kids from places unknown began to gather around in utter amazement at the amount of luggage I was able to fit inside the small compartment. In retrospect, I should have sold tickets to fund my day-long extravaganza.
When Toni strolled up with a tank top and her Motorola RAZR phone to add to the contents of the locker, we damn near had to squirt suntan lotion on the locker's edges for lubrication. Finally, after much trial and error, we prevailed. Locker #42 was officially at maximum capacity.
Proud To Be a Skinny Mississippian
The snack bar was sure glad we rolled into town. After consuming enough beers to fuel a frat party for an hour, we were more than hungry. We were starving. And the smell of greasy fries, cheese sticks, chicken and pizza was lingering over the water park like a fog on the mighty Mississippi.
Our table of five (Andy, Tracy, Ashley, Toni and Yours Truly) probably spent enough money on fried food to sponsor four kids from the Christian Children's Fund, but we ate it all shamelessly. Over lunch, we began to worry that all our food would go to our stomach and make us look fat. One glance around quickly reminded us that compared to everyone else (read: fat white-trash), we looked like Bowflex models. Thank the good Lord above that Mississippi is the most obese state in the nation.
As we made our way to the first slide, we passed the other group boozing on boat drinks at the bar. They would spend the majority of their day in the exact same spot.
Mt. Everwet: A Wet and Wild Ride!
We spent the better half of an hour in line for the first slide. It was a double-seated innertube ride and Toni and I made it down in a record twenty-seven seconds. Even with my rusty algebraic knowledge, I believe the wait to ride ratio comes out somewhere above one-minute:one-second. But I guess that could be expected on the day before the Fourth of July.
The second line was the worst. It was a steady incline up the side of a hill to the top of a sub-par imitation volcano named Mt. Everwet. We waited for what seemed like eons. Tracy got so sick (literally) of waiting that she walked back down before sliding. In fact, we listened to the cursed disclaimer warning they blared through the PA system so many times that I practically had it memorized.
When we got to the top of the ride, we realized what was taking so freaking long. The stupid, idiotic, moronic, incapable, worthless, incompetent, good-for-nothing, waste of space ride attendant was only filling one damn slide at a time. Let me say this again. There were three different slides - Freefall, Threefall and Nightfall - and only one was being loaded at a time. No wonder the line was moving so slow!
So as we reached the top, some guy in front of us had the genius idea of forming three separate lines - one for each slide - and loading all three of them at the same time. This caused the line to move at - you guessed it - three times the normal speed! If I had been Choctaw Indian Chief Phillip Martin, I would have fired the brainless bimbo on the spot.
The Tale of the Yellow Wave Pool
Nevertheless, we finally made it to the bottom and headed for the wave pool. As we made our way to the middle of the huddled mass of kids eagerly awaiting the start of the waves, I quickly realized the temperature of the pool was similar to tepid bathwater. A steamy 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. The uneasy feeling that I was swimming in a sea of kiddie urine soon drove me away. I was thirsty, afterall, and was in the mood for a colada.
But first I had to get my wallet out of the God-forsaken locker. To top off the effort I had to put into removing my duffel and locating my wallet, it started raining. Toni and I then had to run across the park in the pouring rain so as not to get our street clothes wet. By the time we made it to the Beach Club, it had stopped raining and we were soaking wet. So much for all the running...
One piña colada later, our courage (and our buzz) was renewed and we set off for the last ride of the day. After a comparatively short wait in the third line, we rode Backsplash in pairs again. Toni and I reached a record height on the back wall and Tracy and Andy came in a close second (we really did win).
The Creaky Leaky Water Factory
Upon departure from the slide, we realized that although we didn't have time for one more ride, we did have a few minutes left to burn. Then, almost prophetically, the Creaky Leaky Water Factory appeared in our peripheral vision off to the left beckoning us to her confines. We all looked at each other as if we all had the exact same idea at the exact same time and headed toward the oversized, water-squirting jungle gym.
As Andy took the helm at the water buckets, I grabbed hold of the water gun and began blasting the eight year-olds like it was D-Day on the beaches of Normandy. Andy intermittently dumped the filled buckets of water on unsuspecting kids below. We carefully made our way up rope ladders and platform steps, past busted pipes and a giant self-dumping bucket to the slides. Then we rode to the bottom. Then we did it all again three more times.
Finally, they kicked us out. We were so mad at that point, because of all the attractions we had done the whole day, the Creaky Leaky Water Factory was our unanimous vote for favorite. I guess it was the nostalgia for the much simpler days of our youth, but the kids' playland was the best thing that happened to us all day.
Scuba Steve and His Womens
Back at the Beach Club sipping on Coronas, our group began to wonder where ol' One-Eyed Steve, now openly dubbed "Scuba Steve" (of Big Daddy fame) by Amber and henceforth everyone else, had gone. We had seen him earlier in the day - it wasn't that hard to spot him. He was the only one at the park dressed in blue jeans.
When we saw him eariler in the day, Andy asked him if he was having fun. He confirmed that he was. Then, as Andy probed further, he asked Steve what he had been doing all day. Steve replied, "Just walkin' around lookin' at all the womens." I have to admit, I had been doing some of the same.
But all the oogling for the day had come to an end and we were ready for some action at the casino. Mike Ewing had driven over from Jackson for the evening to join us for some gambling. So we headed back to the Bullet and drove out of the parking lot. Next stop: The Golden Moon!
As we unloaded the Black Bullet in the parking lot of Geyser Falls the excitement of a five year-old kid on Christmas filled each of our eyes as we saw what had to be the greatest water park in the history of the world before us. Of course, the six-pack of beers apiece on the ride over probably contributed to our dilusional childlike demeanor.
The Locker Room Chronicles
Nevertheless, we chugged the remainder of our beers post haste and made our way to the turnstile with our freshly printed tickets in hand. Once in the park, half of us split off toward the lockers and the other half broke out into nothing short of a sprint for the cabana. Seeing that I was carrying a duffel bag the size of a filing cabinet, I was in the former group.
If the locker room attendee were to give out awards for the most gear crammed in a locker, I would have won the blue ribbon without circumstance. As I leaned my body into my bag in an attempt to make it fit, little kids from places unknown began to gather around in utter amazement at the amount of luggage I was able to fit inside the small compartment. In retrospect, I should have sold tickets to fund my day-long extravaganza.
When Toni strolled up with a tank top and her Motorola RAZR phone to add to the contents of the locker, we damn near had to squirt suntan lotion on the locker's edges for lubrication. Finally, after much trial and error, we prevailed. Locker #42 was officially at maximum capacity.
Proud To Be a Skinny Mississippian
The snack bar was sure glad we rolled into town. After consuming enough beers to fuel a frat party for an hour, we were more than hungry. We were starving. And the smell of greasy fries, cheese sticks, chicken and pizza was lingering over the water park like a fog on the mighty Mississippi.
Our table of five (Andy, Tracy, Ashley, Toni and Yours Truly) probably spent enough money on fried food to sponsor four kids from the Christian Children's Fund, but we ate it all shamelessly. Over lunch, we began to worry that all our food would go to our stomach and make us look fat. One glance around quickly reminded us that compared to everyone else (read: fat white-trash), we looked like Bowflex models. Thank the good Lord above that Mississippi is the most obese state in the nation.
As we made our way to the first slide, we passed the other group boozing on boat drinks at the bar. They would spend the majority of their day in the exact same spot.
Mt. Everwet: A Wet and Wild Ride!
We spent the better half of an hour in line for the first slide. It was a double-seated innertube ride and Toni and I made it down in a record twenty-seven seconds. Even with my rusty algebraic knowledge, I believe the wait to ride ratio comes out somewhere above one-minute:one-second. But I guess that could be expected on the day before the Fourth of July.
The second line was the worst. It was a steady incline up the side of a hill to the top of a sub-par imitation volcano named Mt. Everwet. We waited for what seemed like eons. Tracy got so sick (literally) of waiting that she walked back down before sliding. In fact, we listened to the cursed disclaimer warning they blared through the PA system so many times that I practically had it memorized.
When we got to the top of the ride, we realized what was taking so freaking long. The stupid, idiotic, moronic, incapable, worthless, incompetent, good-for-nothing, waste of space ride attendant was only filling one damn slide at a time. Let me say this again. There were three different slides - Freefall, Threefall and Nightfall - and only one was being loaded at a time. No wonder the line was moving so slow!
So as we reached the top, some guy in front of us had the genius idea of forming three separate lines - one for each slide - and loading all three of them at the same time. This caused the line to move at - you guessed it - three times the normal speed! If I had been Choctaw Indian Chief Phillip Martin, I would have fired the brainless bimbo on the spot.
The Tale of the Yellow Wave Pool
Nevertheless, we finally made it to the bottom and headed for the wave pool. As we made our way to the middle of the huddled mass of kids eagerly awaiting the start of the waves, I quickly realized the temperature of the pool was similar to tepid bathwater. A steamy 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. The uneasy feeling that I was swimming in a sea of kiddie urine soon drove me away. I was thirsty, afterall, and was in the mood for a colada.
But first I had to get my wallet out of the God-forsaken locker. To top off the effort I had to put into removing my duffel and locating my wallet, it started raining. Toni and I then had to run across the park in the pouring rain so as not to get our street clothes wet. By the time we made it to the Beach Club, it had stopped raining and we were soaking wet. So much for all the running...
One piña colada later, our courage (and our buzz) was renewed and we set off for the last ride of the day. After a comparatively short wait in the third line, we rode Backsplash in pairs again. Toni and I reached a record height on the back wall and Tracy and Andy came in a close second (we really did win).
The Creaky Leaky Water Factory
Upon departure from the slide, we realized that although we didn't have time for one more ride, we did have a few minutes left to burn. Then, almost prophetically, the Creaky Leaky Water Factory appeared in our peripheral vision off to the left beckoning us to her confines. We all looked at each other as if we all had the exact same idea at the exact same time and headed toward the oversized, water-squirting jungle gym.
As Andy took the helm at the water buckets, I grabbed hold of the water gun and began blasting the eight year-olds like it was D-Day on the beaches of Normandy. Andy intermittently dumped the filled buckets of water on unsuspecting kids below. We carefully made our way up rope ladders and platform steps, past busted pipes and a giant self-dumping bucket to the slides. Then we rode to the bottom. Then we did it all again three more times.
Finally, they kicked us out. We were so mad at that point, because of all the attractions we had done the whole day, the Creaky Leaky Water Factory was our unanimous vote for favorite. I guess it was the nostalgia for the much simpler days of our youth, but the kids' playland was the best thing that happened to us all day.
Scuba Steve and His Womens
Back at the Beach Club sipping on Coronas, our group began to wonder where ol' One-Eyed Steve, now openly dubbed "Scuba Steve" (of Big Daddy fame) by Amber and henceforth everyone else, had gone. We had seen him earlier in the day - it wasn't that hard to spot him. He was the only one at the park dressed in blue jeans.
When we saw him eariler in the day, Andy asked him if he was having fun. He confirmed that he was. Then, as Andy probed further, he asked Steve what he had been doing all day. Steve replied, "Just walkin' around lookin' at all the womens." I have to admit, I had been doing some of the same.
But all the oogling for the day had come to an end and we were ready for some action at the casino. Mike Ewing had driven over from Jackson for the evening to join us for some gambling. So we headed back to the Bullet and drove out of the parking lot. Next stop: The Golden Moon!
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