Because my friends, my cousin Natalia and I want to do something thrilling as high school students for the final time, we agree that Schlitterbahn is the place to go. Three of us are packed in the backseat and this time, it is not a bother to me. Spending quality time by being sandwiched by two of the closest people to me before we part our separate ways for college is something to cherish. The drive to South Padre Island is not nearly as extensive as I remembered it to be probably because the windows were down, the jagged wind was whipping our hair from side to side, the music was blasting, the driver was the friend that sped 24/7 and had three expensive speeding tickets, and lastly because I am no longer impatient, I now appreciate prolonged car rides. When we make it to the bridge I am no longer frightened of the possible 85 foot drop. The passenger who is also the DJ plays an upbeat track and turns the speakers up to the max. I feel the music pound in my chest as I begin to look out the window and gaze at the same blue-green ocean that has not changed a bit. It is still massive and pleasing to the eye. I realize we are off the bridge and at the intersection once the car come to a stop. Even though I am older now, when we take a right at the stoplight nostalgia flutters throughout my body the same way it did when I was nine years old. We are almost there and I am ecstatic. Once we pass under the sand castle and into the parking lot I expected it to be loaded as it always was, but instead it was as deserted as the Sahara. We immediately found a suitable spot by the very entrance of the park. Because the park seemed vacant I was skeptical yet satisfied that my friends and I would have the park to ourselves with no long wait for the
Because my friends, my cousin Natalia and I want to do something thrilling as high school students for the final time, we agree that Schlitterbahn is the place to go. Three of us are packed in the backseat and this time, it is not a bother to me. Spending quality time by being sandwiched by two of the closest people to me before we part our separate ways for college is something to cherish. The drive to South Padre Island is not nearly as extensive as I remembered it to be probably because the windows were down, the jagged wind was whipping our hair from side to side, the music was blasting, the driver was the friend that sped 24/7 and had three expensive speeding tickets, and lastly because I am no longer impatient, I now appreciate prolonged car rides. When we make it to the bridge I am no longer frightened of the possible 85 foot drop. The passenger who is also the DJ plays an upbeat track and turns the speakers up to the max. I feel the music pound in my chest as I begin to look out the window and gaze at the same blue-green ocean that has not changed a bit. It is still massive and pleasing to the eye. I realize we are off the bridge and at the intersection once the car come to a stop. Even though I am older now, when we take a right at the stoplight nostalgia flutters throughout my body the same way it did when I was nine years old. We are almost there and I am ecstatic. Once we pass under the sand castle and into the parking lot I expected it to be loaded as it always was, but instead it was as deserted as the Sahara. We immediately found a suitable spot by the very entrance of the park. Because the park seemed vacant I was skeptical yet satisfied that my friends and I would have the park to ourselves with no long wait for the