One of the best experiences for parents at SeaWorld is observing all of the international tourists. And it’s easy to spot those who aren’t from the United States. For starters, men from other parts of the world do not have the same fanny-pack prejudice that we do. Somewhere along the line, we as a nation decided that fanny packs would only be tolerated during rock climbing, or occasionally while travelling, to store a passport. Other than that, there is never a reason for an American man to be wearing a fanny pack. But if you see a man shamelessly sporting one, he is undoubtedly from another part of the world.
The second major indicator is the number of overpriced Shamu souvenirs the traveler is carrying. There is actually a direct proportional relationship between the number of Shamu trinkets one has, and the distance travelled to SeaWorld. For example, someone from England will probably just have an oversized foam Shamu hat (it looks like you’re wearing Shamu’s skull). But someone from, say, Uzbekistan, will have a few Shamu pendants pinned to their shirt, a bag full of plastic Shamu cups, that only cost six dollars each, but came with a free Diet Coke; and if they happen to be there at night (there are nightly fireworks, because nothing soothes marine life like explosions), they will be cloaked in an air-brushed Shamu blanket.
I always like to look for the similarities among parents from different cultures. There’s too much in this world that separates people. And one thing I sure learned on this last trip is that, no matter where a parent’s from, there’s nothing more terrifying than a mucus-faced toddler.
Our toddlers were playing in the “blue bouncy pit.” That’s the name I give it. I’m sure SeaWorld calls is the Sea Floor Adventure, or some other themed name that I can’t recall. Basically, it’s an octagon of blue wrestling mats, where toddlers of all cultures come together to go berserk. Parents sit on the outside of the ring, and encourage their children the way a coach might pump up a UFC fighter.
After about five minutes, a young mucus-clad toddler girl, who, judging by her pink San Diego Chargers t-shirt was probably a local, descended into the octagon. She ran around in a gleeful frenzy. Other kids simply saw her as another child having a good ol’ time. But parents reacted to this young girl’s presence as though she were a team of zombies coming to overrun a farmhouse.
I heard parents beckoning their children away from the toddler snot-monster in no less than four different languages. It was wonderful to see people from all walks of life united in a common goal of not letting their kids catch a cold.
A second later, that girl’s mother yelled, “Sheila, come here and let mommy wipe your nose, honey.” Sheila left the octagon, and like Godzilla stomping off back into the ocean, peace and order was restored. ( msn.com )
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