My Trip to the Water Park

My husband and I brought a group of teenagers to the local water park this weekend.

There is no place on earth better for people-watching than a water park.

There was the bald man with a realistic face tattooed on the back of his head. When I saw him, he was facing away from me, talking and gesticulating wildly to his friends. (I suspect that’s the way he always talks.) The skin on the back of his head moved, making the tattooed face look like it was talking wildly too. I believe this tattoo, of all the ones I saw that day, falls into the category tattoo artists call “Job Killers,” as in, once you have this tattoo, you will never be hired again.

Or the woman who wore such heavy (and sparkly) eye make-up and such long and thick fake eyelashes that her eyes looked encrusted. And this, mind you, was to a water park! What’s going to happen when she goes into the water? (I didn’t get to see.) I was fascinated by her hair: perfectly straight here, perfectly curled there. (Again, what is this water park going to do to all her hard work?) And her (leopard skin AND sparkly) bathing suit had zippers and belt buckles and didn't seem meant for water. What was her thinking process, I wonder?

There we all were, so exposed in our bathing suits – and, boy, did I see a lot of different shapes and sizes – but even so, we were all flying our flags: bathing-suit styles, hairstyles, sunglasses, hats, make-up, jewelry, body language. Differences in socio-economic class were clear. You could also tell single versus married, parent versus non-parent, rural versus urban. You could tell personality.

And you could see all those tattoos to boot.

Wow. Just wow.