Standing in Line at the Waterpark – Tom Junod

There’s some sparkling writing here, Ginsbergian poetry even, about standing in line at the theme park.

And I have seen tattoos — oh, Lord, I have seen tattoos. I have seen devils and angels, Satan laughing and Christ Jesus weeping; I have seen people who have turned themselves into walking tombstones, sporting memorials for the dead, and the etched images of departed loved ones, both human and canine; I have seen soldiers who will never escape their inked dogtags, scholars and patriots with the Declaration of Independence written on their backs, and endless scrolls of text rendered illegible by time and known only to those who wear them on their skin. I have seen every form of erotic invitation and advertisement, not just tramp stamps but entire tramp field maps, and mothers of three and four and five with cobras and Tasmanian devils arising from their bikini bottoms.

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