February 26th, 2022
I know I should be better than a moth, but I am not. This story has swift twists and turns, so hold on tight.
I was driving past Buck Hill on 35 after work tonight when I saw the light: a spotlight, specifically, waving back and forth like a giant lightsaber over the hill, calling attention to a rainbow valley underneath.
I debated whether I wanted to stop by and see why it was calling me. I lie. I knew I had to go see what this was all about.
I parked and walked through the labyrinth of buildings until I saw a sign pointing towards the multicolored wonderland; “TUBING,” it read.
I found a ticket stand and stopped. The menu said they stopped selling tickets at 9 pm, which was confusing because the giant spotlight was clearly still telling moths like me to come, check this out, this will be worth your time, this will change your life.
There was a woman in the stand. I knocked on the window and asked whether they were still selling tickets.
“I just do the drinks,” she said, and then smiled. “You know what? You can just grab a tube and go down.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said.
So I did. Suddenly, I was a person who was carrying a magical inner tube up a rainbow hill when just ten minutes earlier that wasn’t even an idea that existed. I felt so alive. I felt… like there was one more obstacle in my way.
Indeed, there was. It was another woman. She looked at me; she looked THROUGH me. She asked if I had a wristband. I did not. I asked if that was a deal breaker. She said it was.
I walked back down the hill and put the tube back, dejected. But I don’t regret it.
See, I know that, had I not tried, I would have forever wondered what kind of fun I might have missed out on. I would have regretted the idea that I could have, but I didn’t.
Instead, even though I failed, I tried.
And I will never, ever regret trying, even if the thing just wasn’t meant for me this time.