...and then there was that time Jürgen humped a dinosaur

I guess you really can't say "Poor Blair." Though she really didn't get more than one full day's introduction to the area in which I grew up (actually, now that I think about it, I never really gave her a proper tour of my own house...errrrrrrrrm), she did get to spend Friday to Monday in Ocean City at my Grandfather's condo. So this sight-seeing and introductions trip became more of a vacation proper. Who's really complaining, you know?

We headed down to Ocean City (had to stop myself from writing down the ocean...or "downee owshun" in Bal'more speak) on Friday morning, July 25th and spent the better part of the afternoon introducing Blair to the frigid (surprising in late July) glory of the Atlantic Ocean and it's waves...of doom. She was a good sport, though she spent the majority of the time papoosed to my back, although she never would let me teach her to ride a wave.

We helped some assorted other Hoopers (or Dickerts as the case may be) in the immediate family move their stuff into the condo as we prepared ourselves for the greater question to come: Who Sleeps Where? Thankfully Blair was able to sleep in a bed that evening, though future arrangements were in doubt.

Once everyone arrived we laid out plans for an evening out of typical Ocean City fun: the boardwalk and mini-golf (don't call it "putt-putt" or you will incite much wrath). The crew consisted of my mother and father, Stefanie, Aunt Judy and my Grandfather....oh and the Blürg...don't forget them. In the picture above you also see my brother, Kevin, (in full military regalia no less) who joined us later as a nice surprise since he was in Delaware all week with his military obligations.

We began our trip to the boardwalk by seeking out those staple O.C. (don't call it that) treats: Thrasher's french fries...which, by the by, have really declined in quality over the years. Maybe it was because someone decided to buy the two of us the wheelbarrow size, but I've tasted them at a much higher quality in years gone by. We also ate some pretty intestine-challenging hot dogs as well, but that was to be expected. What next to do but really give your digestion a good swift kick in the...well...gut, but to ride the rides.

Every year the Pier part of the boardwalk, to counteract the fact that its only real attracting is the increasingly purple Ferris wheel, hosts some new and ridiculously expensive new ride. This year's version was a type of human slingshot. Two people strapped themselves into a steel ball and at the conductor's whim would be shot many feet up into the air where they would bungee about three sine waves (who remembers math, huh?) before slowly lowering you back to earth. I declined my father's offers to pay for Blair and me to go - not because I was scared, but because I thought the price was not worth the three-bounce maximum. He, however, took my sister and accepted the challenge. The following is what occurred

We watched their reactions on the little televisions standing to the side of the ride. Personally, I think it alters genuine reactions when people know they're being filmed in all their snot-flying glory below. But I'm just jealous I didn't get to go.

We walked over to Trumper's (I think that's the spelling) Rides, which are, in my opinion, the only decent rides on the boardwalk. We heard through the grapevine that someone's trying to buy these people out to build some hotel down there. We must stop this at all costs. Where would my summer be without the sinking feeling that maybe someone hasn't really made adjustments to these rides since the late 80's, while I'm tumbling over my ankles in the Zipper? What would I do without the Tidal Wave roller coaster reminding me what a migraine feels like as I plow into my headrest time and time again? I kid, but seriously, these things may be overdue for a tuneup. I think it may have only been the dulcet tones of Blair's screaming that kept my mind off the thought of one of the zipper cars hurtling into the night sky, unhinged and free at last. And yet somehow, when my brother arrived, we swindled her into getting on again. It may be dark in the photo but you should be able to make out Blair's true enthusiasm with the ride at hand.

After finishing off this leg of the trip with more O.C. (don't call it that) staples - Dolly's popcorn (sorry, Blair, I was wrong about them carrying cheese popcorn) and Dumser's ice cream - mom, dad, Stef, Kevin and the Blürg went to our staple family mini-golf course (everyone knows this one) on 70th with the dinosaurs outside and the underwater scuba world inside.

Kevin was housing all of us for awhile with repeated 2's, coming in under par just about the entire game, though Blair would like me to mention that she held her own the entire time. Shoot, she did much better than I did. Time was, where I would hurtle my golf club into some bush in a pre-adolescent rage, but those days had passed and now I handled my inability to excel at any sport, no matter how mundane, with grace and poise. Grace and poise which disappears completely in the event that I should ever land a hole in one...and I did.

If you've been to this golf course, and most of you Marylanders have to have, you know the large green T-rex that stands at the course facing Ocean Highway grinning his large come-hither grin. Well I, though there seem to be no apparent embankments to make this possible, landed a glorious hole in one. So surprised was I at my fortune that I hurtled myself headlong onto the thick part of this reptile's tail, and though my mind was asking "Um...hey there Pardner she ain't exactly saddled up there is she?" this didn't deter me in my decision to repeatedly hump the dinosaur. Not completely forgetting (amazingly) the company that I was in, I held my joy to three humps to keep it at that PG-13 level so as to simply embarrass my parents, not mortify them. In my defense...look what he was wearing. He was asking for it. And the grin was noticeable wider when I was through. The little stoner kids in front of us thought it was a riot.

Mom...Dad...I'm really sorry.

Other such incidents included...

Blair gets her ball stuck in the middle of the log, which is next to impossible to do. Sorry for the unattractive photo.

Blair gets her ball trapped under the Brontosaurus.And Jürgen unwittingly drops the pencil, though not his ball, into the blue family recreation water, which is just perfect for little kids to drink or pee in...or.....both....

Good night. I slept well. As for the T-rex.....