The mercury's rising into the low 90s today. It's the kind of day that Chicago is notorious for in the summer: hot, humid, sticky and crawling with people wearing baseball caps featuring the logo of their favorite team. I'm a Sox fan, but their caps are black, so I'd almost switch teams today, just so my brain doesn't melt from the super-heated sun-absorbing wool.
When we visited Dorney Park in Allentown, PA a few weeks back on a similarly steamy day, we truly considered attempting the flume ride: a guaranteed cool down from a bonafide super soaker descent into splashdom. However, since I didn't have a change of clothes (read: underwear. Mama doesn't "do" wet, craggy underwear) packed with me at the park, this was not to be.
I'll be a page from the Oprah magazine right now, where she beckons you to take in the inviting green freshness from a photo of a rainforest, the fragrance of field flowers in a meadow. Here's the Dorney Park flume ride in full sploosh.
Feel free to lose yourself in the sensation. The bonus: no craggy, wet underwear to deal with.
Ahhhhhhhhh.......
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