Georgia Aquarium - sure this is the largest aquarium in the world, but do they have to pack it to the gills with people. The Georgia Aquarium was like Disney on steroid, the family walks to a large mall type atmosphere with so many people running around we’re instantly thinking we’ve entered the arena of the Hunger Games.
There’s crying children, wailing children, mother’s yelling at their children, father’s yelling at their children, and lost children. The boys and I plan an attack, knowing that we have tickets to the 4D show AND have to make the Dolphin Show at 330p to end the day.
Let me stop here and explain to you my husband. He believes is seeing Europe rather than going to Disney, he’s not a huge Chuck E Cheese fan, he enjoys his boys but not chaos. Imagine his face when we walk into a Who Concert mass of people trying to get to the Ocean Odyssey like us and the minute we walk through the door, Max disappears into the crowd.
Back to our goal of making it through the Ocean Odyssey, this is a tunnel through a huge aquarium with whale sharks, swordfish, manta rays AND 800 lb groupers swimming over you. Jeff hold one child’s hand while I hold the other, we are packed like toothpaste in the tube when a child looks up at Jeff and says, “I need to toot.” My husband is so happy to be stuck in a tube, with a child passing gas AND all the other mother’s yelling at their children around him.
We make it out of the Ocean Odyssey and it’s time for the 4D movie, we must arrive 15 minutes early and wait in a line of sweaty yelling kids for this one of a kind experience. My sweet husband looks at me, stars to say something then simply closes his mouth. “We’re making memories honey.” I say.
“Yeah, this is one of a lifetime, because I’m never coming back here,” he mutters.
We see the movie with the spray of water in the face (4D), the air on our feet and a very nice environmental message to save the oceans. My wonderful husband has other ideas about global warming and such but still remains quiet during our 15 minute environmental message.
We have enough time to fight the crowd and make it into Frogs before hitting the Dolphin Show, a full 30 minutes before the show. Fighting through the frogs, we join the sea of people toward the Dolphin Tales. We get to the front of the line and I’ve got the wrong tickets, while I open my purse to get the right ones, this guy pushes past us, “Just let us get by you,” he snarls at me almost smacking the attendant in the face with his tickets. I wonder what the extra 3 seconds ahead of me would do when I walk into a auditorium with people pushing other people out of the way for the seats in front. Packed like sardines, I’ve lost half my seat to a very large woman with a bag of McDonalds, and Jeff is very happy that the lady next to him has chosen that time to breast feed. My husband who watches TV shows with me explaining how they explosions in outer space cannot be real, watches a Dolphin Show with electrical capes, and dancing monsters and a disco ball.
He doesn’t properly lose it until after we wait another 15 minutes to get out of the show, then a guy with a sub dripping down the front of his shirt runs into him, looks at him and burps then continues on his way, “I’m done,” he simply states and heads out to the nearest bar.
I should have listened to him then, but no, I had to take the boys - annoying each other by punching and tripping into the petting part of the aquarium. There’s sharks swimming in a long tank, kids line all the sides trying to get their touch in, but the sharks stay under the water enough so that short arms just can’t reach. My two knock each other out of the way to the one open spot, the fight for it causing the other children to move down a great ploy to get them to fit. The oldest dips his arm in the water locating the sharks, the youngest jumping up on his belly trying to touch them. I look away and before I know it, one is chest deep in the water the other looking at me with disbelief on his face. I walk away, and wait for both of them to catch up to me.
“What happened.”
“I was trying to help him touch the sharks.”
“He pulled my arm until I fell in the water.”
“I did not”
“I’m wet.”
“Come on let’s get out of here.”
I can’t get mad, I’m trying not to laugh. As I bump into my last person and say “excuse me” for the 1,587th time, I’m glad that I got the memories in, the time taken care of and didn’t kill them. It’s been a good day when I see my husband waiting at the bar for us, cold beer in his hand for me - he offers it like it’s a medal. In a way it is, a finisher’s medal for a day with the family and surviving. Ever taken one for the family?
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