Well yesterday was fun.... (again with the difficulty of telling sarcasm through writing...) It started with breakfast in a local pancake shop, which was apparently the hotspot for the Virginian police force, as 3 mustangs kitted out in blues pulled up, with no less than 8 officers coming out of them (so much for the stereotype... Apparently pancakes and Belgian waffles are much preferred to doughnuts for American policemen)...
It was as we were leaving the scraps of my strawberry (well at least they claimed that they were strawberries... In fact they were just these horridly bitter, soggy, flat, brown things... They were like the strawberry's embarrassing uncle, that nobody speaks of to sane society, in case people think they're all a bunch of mental-cases...) pancakes, my dad said, AND I QUOTE; "What d'you wanna do?... It's not like there's not a lot to do around here..." I could tell from that, that something horrendous was in store, but NOBODY deserved this... We drove for about 15 minutes, and pulled up in a car park. Without even thinking about asking where we were, I follow my parents in through a visitor centre, across a bridge, and along some path into a desolate town. It took until I saw 3 seemingly Amish locals, for me to begin questioning what the hell was going on here... We had apparently gone to a refurbished 17th century town called Williamsburg, where people are hired to dress up in costumes, and act as if they lived during the American Revolution, which we would be walking around; not even allowed in the actual buildings themselves (as that would cost $75 per person for some erratically unknown reason), because this would of course be the best thing to do considering "it's not like there's not a lot to do around here..."... Needless to say; it WASN'T the best thing I've ever done in my life... Or that morning even...
Since we were just walking around some place which was essentially like a 17th century Basildon, or a late 20th century Swansea(Mehehehe... It's funny, because I'm saying that Welsh people are backward....); it was obviously just about the most boring and pointless thing in the world; like a vibrator with an "oh alright, but don't wake me up" setting... To entertain myself, I did the only thing a cynical, bored teen would do in my situation... Try to find as many flaws in their poor attempt of a 17th century portal as I possibly could...
Now, ignoring the many CCTV security cameras (that were poorly hidden by placing them in trees, and painting them in a completely different shade of brown), and the fact that there was a constant flurry of automobiling traffic on the road next to us (concealed in it's utmost by a 2" tall hedge); there were still many issues I found... The main problem was the store. (They basically had this little shop, which supposedly sells things available in 17th century America, so we thought we'd have a little look inside) Now, ignoring the fact that pewter at the time had a huge lead content, so couldn't ever have been used for a teapot, unless you were intentionally trying to poison yourself (but not even a 17th century Basildonian(or a 20th century Welshman) is that stupid...(ooh there I go again... What am I like...?))... And as well as that, the outrageous price of $270 being nowhere near the sort of figure it would have been at the time; I just love how the shopkeeper was willing to accept a few $50s from some old dear, for it; thus ditching the entire idea of a 17th century American town for a little bit of money, as of course - Ulysses Grant wasn't about until the 1800s... If they REALLY wanted it to be legitimate, they would've just accepted an old drinks can (aluminium was considered to be the rarest and most expensive metal at the time.... Stupid Americans...), but no... All about the futuristic green paper...
Now there were plenty of things like this: the automatic flushing toilet, rather than just a wooden pit (I mean COME ON!!! The one time where you're morally OBLIGED to give me typhoid, and you don't even follow that through...), the black man who has been hired as a typical home-owner, as apposed to a slave-worker (because that wouldn't be politically correct...), the gardener who was driving around on his huge lawnmowermobile trimming the grass... The list goes on forever... But I complained that I was bored after about an hour (although truth be told, I was bored from the outset - who wouldn't be...?), and we left back for the hotel...
So we sat around for an hour or two, then went out bowling.... Like you do.... My dad claimed that it was a treat especially for me, but when I found out that there was an offer - 99cent games all day for that day only; I started to understand why we'd been on this one alley for the past 17 hours... Still... Had fun... I was terrible, so don't get me wrong there (my best score was the godly amount of 103), and there were some bowling nerds next to us who were scoring WAY into the 200s - they were just about as professional as you can imagine; they had the personalised ball, the personalised shoes, hell; if only they had a custom team shirt with a crap, and overly thought-over team name, like "Has-Pins" or "Super Bowls", and one of those machines bald people use to make their head shiny; you'd think they were actual pros. I mean they were spinning it here, there, and every freaking where... Spare, strike, strike, 7..... Spare... All the while, I got: gutter, gutter, gutter, 4... Gutter... Made me feel worse than a paralytic in a lap dancing club... Still... Considering Obama's PB score is 38; that makes me nearly 3 times better than the President.... I'll take that....
Thanks,
Kempo.
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