I don’t know if that broken bridge was the inciting event that delayed our flight 6 hours and made us board the plane no less than three times, but sometimes it’s nice to think of what could have been if the cards fell correctly.

Luckily, I had most of my stuff strapped to my back, so I had plenty of entertainment options, though I’d woken up a bit too early to be able to read with any hope of retention. So the delay mostly came down to playing video games in a place I don’t normally play video games and lightly eavesdropping on the conversations around me. Some college kids going home for a bit, a grandmother making a trip to see family, one very loud gentleman who wasn’t quite sure how weather worked…

Let’s talk about him for a bit.

Anyone who’s worked with the public at any point knows this guy. He’s 100% sure that you’re keeping something from him and are intentionally trying to antagonize him when in truth it’s easier to just give these people what they want so they go away. But his coping mechanism to deal with the reality of a delay was to have very stern faced conversations with the crew about how they shouldn’t lie to him. It seemed his brain was having issues connecting the sunny skies of Virginia to the potential tornados of New York and he was insistent on working this problem out in a verbal manner, so that everyone at the gate would remember “that fucking guy who wouldn’t shut up about the weather”.

Of course, we are in an era where the tools for amateur meteorology are one tap away, but he seemed content to work with the maps in his mind, thank you very much. I’m fascinated by this, because we rarely get to observe from a safe distance the problem of what happens when a mind has to face a truth that was previously hidden from it.

I think people misestimate what is in their control. I say “misestimate” because I don’t think they over or under estimate what they can control, they’re just not sure on all the details (and for the record, I include myself here). For example, on that flight, we all chose our airline and our arrivals and departures. Our choice of airline–Breeze, for the record–limited the destinations and days we could go, but for a reduced price, we gave up a little control. We could have paid more to take another airline at another time to another place, but we didn’t. We were in control of our decision to buy a ticket for this plane.

But we don’t get to decide when the captain feels it’s okay to fly and the weather is not a democratically decided event. If Johnny Yellsalot thinks he should risk the tornado warnings, that’s fine, but it’s not his decision. The concept of truth has proven to be very elastic over the last few years, but he seemed to genuinely think that he could debate the weather.

And that’s why we’re fucked.

How much has the weather impacted the average person? Maybe it cancelled a picnic or a baseball game or something. Has it stopped them from going outside because the air was unhealthy or it’s too hot to be alive? If not yet, it will soon.

I feel like so much of modern life is built on ignoring natural forces. I tapped a screen a few times, handed over a pile of money that was never actually in my hand, and somehow that gave me the ability to fly, with little to no knowledge of headwinds or tailwinds or wind in general. But that act of giving the money makes it feel like I know something because now I’ve seen a small piece of the story of those planes in the sky. But I don’t know shit and I can’t control the weather, no matter how miserable I am sitting in the slightly too hot Richmond airport with the WiFi that barely works while I’m trying to see a doppler radar signal 380 miles away as if the act of me looking at it will somehow push the storm out east.

But staring at that map is easier than staring into the gaping maw of the truth: it’s a hostile, uncertain world and our entire society is precariously balanced on the edge. However, sometimes, when the circumstances are right, we can fly.

You Can Stop Squeezing

Sorry if that got out of hand up there, it’s been a rough week.

As I said before, I didn’t necessarily want to be on vacation, and though I’ve learned over the years that it’s a mistake to have fun at a place you don’t want to be–someone will use that against you to make you go again–I had a little fun anyway. Wasn’t free though.

We went to Busch Gardens in Williamsburg, were I got the 7 day pass because I though my body could handle just a little park each day. Unfortunately, it was so hot and muggy that even standing in line for their not-as-good-as-their-sister-park rider accessibility program almost took me out. After standing in line for 10 minutes to get a wristband and a sheet of paper that would let me go to the front of the line and get instructions on what time to come back to the front of the line, we picked up 3 refillable drink cups and two slices of watermelon. The total on that was $78.

They’ve gone cashless at Busch Gardens, which I think they do to make the transactions feel frictionless, but it just makes it so there’s an app on my phone that will show me how hard they’ve been squeezing my grapes.

I thought I got them because I upgraded my pass so I didn’t have to pay for parking, but it turns out you can just blow through the toll both and no one even bats an eye. I might even feel bad about that if I didn’t pay $16 for a chef salad at some point. The food at their German themed Festhaus is very good, but at $124 for three people, it was the most expensive meal of our vacation. I probably would have made out had I purchased a dining pass instead, but every dollar you spend with an amusement corporation is essentially a bet on whether or not you’re about to get screwed. All told, three of us spent five to six hours in the park over two days, rode roughly 6 rides and paid just under $600 for the privilege. That $600 is park expenses only. My Realdeal Actual Value Estimate—the price I think I should have paid—would be roughly $300.

Things I Like

I’m on record as disliking the outdoors–particularly the beach–and being extremely price sensitive to things that are not computers, instruments, collectibles or trash food, but we rented jet skis for an hour and it ruled. I felt just like my hero, Mitch Buchannon of Baywatch, even down the Ray Ban Outdoorsman glasses I bought for the trip. I even got to come to the rescue of a busty blonde when her son accidentally dumped her off the back of the jet ski (full disclosure: she paid for my rental and also I’ve been with her for over a decade).

I’m probably not buying one anytime soon, but I would ride one again.