Stacey M had a second job at a bar called Sheridan's Lodge. It was at least 30 minutes from the Park, but Stacey lived within stumbling distance, so was a popular hang out for the Alpine Center crowd.
And when I say stumbling distance, I mean that literally. One night as Stacey M, Stacy G, Melissa and I were leaving the bar, Stacey M announced that she knew a shortcut. We trusted her because we were in her neighborhood. And because we were drunk. Well, Melissa was sober, but she humored us because she's a good sport.
"There's a path," Stacey M said, with a vague gesture at the wooded area across the street. "It leads right to my house."
So into the woods we went. There was a short, but steep, hill to conquer. It was tough going. I was wearing wooden-soled, platform shoes. Stacey M had to give me a push. Stacy G stopped to pee, and then looked to Melissa for help up the hill.
"I love you, Melissa!" she declared, as Melissa grasped her hand and hauled her up to the top. "I think I peed on my hand."
I take back what I said about Melissa being a good sport. Melissa is a SAINT.
We walked on. And on. And on. Stacey M stumbled, fell to the ground and just laid there. Almost immediately after that, I stepped into a hole and found myself up to my waist in brush. At this point, I realized that the shortcut was a colossally bad idea.
Despite my unforgiving footwear, I managed to get myself out. Stacey M got up off the ground, took a bleary look around, and slurred, "I don't know where the fuck I am." That made four of us.
Luckily, there's only so lost you can get in an acre or two of woods. Especially if those woods are between a county highway and a residential neigborhood on a clear and moonlit summer night.
8 comments:
Stacy M. is an attractive woman, but when she's doing her drunken slurring thing, she bears an uncanny resemblance to Daffy Duck. Or Sylvester. "Sufferin' succotash! I dunno where the fucchhh ah ammm!"
So much for Whiskey Mountaineering.
If I ever record a country album, it will be called Whiskey Mountaineering.
Thank you. I have my moments.
Dear Team,
I want to tell you that I have enjoyed the postings on Action Park. I worked at Water World in the summer of 1985 and 1986 on the Speed Slide/Geronimo ride (back when both of the big slides were still open and when Geronimo wasn't covered). I remember the water wars well, the joy of eating during breaks at the bottom of Surf Hill, people bouncing off the padding on the Tarzan Swing, people sinking like a stone after dropping out of the Cannonball slide and the never ending streams of money (among other things)floating out of the pockets of New Yorkers at the bottom of the slides. I went off to college and have never been back since. Just wanted to say thanks for the memories.
Scott Cunningham
Waycross, GA
Thanks, Scott! It's funny how nothing ever really changed, right?
Hey, we went mountaineering! Sans whisk, for some reason.
Yes- thank you Scott!
And Colleen, if only there had been whiskey involved in our mountaineering! It would have made the Private Dancer sing-a-long make more sense.
Let's not forget that one of Andover's finest drove passed us as we were stumbling up the "secret passage way" Even that guy thought we were on our way home...or so I said told him. Ah, so many trrrusttin souls out there to believe me......would you trust me now if i told you if i were lyin'?? (classic philosophical crap I learned in grad school...) Anyhoo-I have given up my looney tunes days but have not forgoten my dreams of world domination-oops, I mean assistant of world domination Therese...do i at least get my own island???
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