Alpha, the kids and I went off to sample the myriad delights of Dreamland Aqua Park yesterday, along with our chums Mr & Mrs R and Little M.
It was a smorgasbord of fun, an outing of exceptional enjoyment...except for the fact that I am petrified of being under water and not terribly keen on enclosed spaces. There I was, trying my best to be one of the gang - all of whom are dare-devils par excellence and hell-bent on pumping up the adrenaline levels to the max by flinging themselves down scary watery tubes with scant regard for life or limb - but all I achieved was a full exposure of my Class A wussy-ness.
The Family Raft Ride was a hoot (my face remained totally dry throughout, plus I had nice firm handles to cling to), the lazy Dream Stream was a relaxing meander down a waterway with the Small(er) One perched on my lap, even the bigg-ish slides which you go down on a rubber ring was OK... but after that I failed miserably.
Alpha, in a misguided attempt to divert me from a lifetime of cowardice, decided that I needed to earn my water park stripes. It was all going fairly well on the reasonably tame Slide 5 (which the kids were zooming down happily) until I was tipped off the rubber ring at the bottom, went a*se over t*t into the water and, in my major panic, forgot that humans can't breathe H20. Cue a waterlogged and spluttering mummy having to be pulled out of the water before being taken off for a nice relaxing Marlboro Light and a lie-down by the pool.
Being a determined man, Alpha then decided I would love the Black Hole as it involves minimal water, plus I could share a rubber ring thing with him (and so feel safe, or that was the theory). He was wrong.
Think a pitch black enclosed tube with a near-vertical initial drop (or so it felt) then a series of very fast twists and turns before being spat out into water at the end. OK, so I didn't come anywhere close to drowning but I was so scared that I started to cry. I had found my own personal version of Hell.
My mortification was compounded when Firstborn went down the same ride several times and announced it "cool" and "not that scary". Then she totally trumped me by going on the Twisting Dragons (which made me want to be sick just looking at it). Even the Small(er) One went on rides that I was barely brave enough to look at.
Am I destined to remain a water-park wallflower until the end of my days? Or is there some kind of cure? All advice appreciated...
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It was a smorgasbord of fun, an outing of exceptional enjoyment...except for the fact that I am petrified of being under water and not terribly keen on enclosed spaces. There I was, trying my best to be one of the gang - all of whom are dare-devils par excellence and hell-bent on pumping up the adrenaline levels to the max by flinging themselves down scary watery tubes with scant regard for life or limb - but all I achieved was a full exposure of my Class A wussy-ness.
The Family Raft Ride was a hoot (my face remained totally dry throughout, plus I had nice firm handles to cling to), the lazy Dream Stream was a relaxing meander down a waterway with the Small(er) One perched on my lap, even the bigg-ish slides which you go down on a rubber ring was OK... but after that I failed miserably.
Alpha, in a misguided attempt to divert me from a lifetime of cowardice, decided that I needed to earn my water park stripes. It was all going fairly well on the reasonably tame Slide 5 (which the kids were zooming down happily) until I was tipped off the rubber ring at the bottom, went a*se over t*t into the water and, in my major panic, forgot that humans can't breathe H20. Cue a waterlogged and spluttering mummy having to be pulled out of the water before being taken off for a nice relaxing Marlboro Light and a lie-down by the pool.
Being a determined man, Alpha then decided I would love the Black Hole as it involves minimal water, plus I could share a rubber ring thing with him (and so feel safe, or that was the theory). He was wrong.
Think a pitch black enclosed tube with a near-vertical initial drop (or so it felt) then a series of very fast twists and turns before being spat out into water at the end. OK, so I didn't come anywhere close to drowning but I was so scared that I started to cry. I had found my own personal version of Hell.
My mortification was compounded when Firstborn went down the same ride several times and announced it "cool" and "not that scary". Then she totally trumped me by going on the Twisting Dragons (which made me want to be sick just looking at it). Even the Small(er) One went on rides that I was barely brave enough to look at.
Am I destined to remain a water-park wallflower until the end of my days? Or is there some kind of cure? All advice appreciated...
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