Niagara Falls is for the birds

I couldn't have been happier. My family had flocked in over the 4th of July holiday; migrating from the far-reaches of Alaska, California, and New Jersey. Our culminating activity, before everyone dispersed, was to Niagara Falls. Renee and Lisa had limited experience with this natural wonder that so many of us take for granted so I wanted to address it iconically which, of course means, The Maid of the Mist. Savannah, a BIG fan of The Cave of the Winds, had communicated her displeasure for DAYS but had been loudly over-ruled. The ninety-minute ticket line for The Maid of the Mist proved whom God loves best.  "No one appreciates a gloater," I informed my daughter, sweating as we hoofed over to The Cave of the Winds in the 85 degree heat. "Who am I to deny God's will?"  she grinned, scampering along, baptized in the bellowing blanket of mist. 

So we waited in the (much shorter) Cave of the Winds line, eating the most delicious french fries in the world (That'll be the last time poor Renee offers us "one.") before gaining blessed entry to the air-conditioned inner sanctum that led to the historical film demonizing industrialization 

SKIP THIS PART:  Socio-political-economic rant ensues

Part of my 4th grade ELA curriculum standards focuses on author bias and propaganda. When will we EVER be able to present a balanced perspective communicating ALL sides to the story? Unchecked factories billowing out pollution and exploiting the natural resources...Bad. Jobs? Pretty good. Yeah...yeah...yeah. I'm sure that girl in the Dippin' Dots kiosk is receiving a proportional salary to that. It's just the slew of abandoned houses littering the river walk, that I presume are populated with people in need of some sort of intervention (be it mental health, substance abuse, or criminal justice)...they can't ALL be filming an episode of "Ghost Hunters, can they?), may have once been filled with tax-paying home-owners who didn't work (scrape by) for the tourist or gambling industries.  Oh no...sorry. Soap box. I just don't understand why, rather than forcing industry out, we didn't provide incentives to get them to improve, contribute, stay, and GROW. Niagara Falls IS a natural wonder. The city of Niagara Falls, unfortunately, is not.

SORRY: Rant over

SKIP THIS PART: Ridiculous, over-zealous pointless prose

before getting outfitted in fabulous form-fitting footwear accented by canary-yellow plastic ponchos that I am SURE get responsibly recycled or repurposed (ie: See rant above). Don't tell Savannah, but The Cave of the Winds was magnificent. It is the safest (and only legal way) to gain such close access to the Bridal Veil Falls. The thundering water is a mere twenty feet away from you! The sound is a roaring train tunneling through your body. You are submerged while still standing...one with the water cycle. From the bird's eye overlooks, 175 feet up, each populated group below appears to be being pounded into people puddles. Happy, screaming, laughing points of precipitation, arms raised in religious supplication, driving forward to face the watery wrath that welcomes their rapture. 

As we began our journey away from the "Hurricane Deck," I found that I could hear again. My senses, just moments ago, completely captured by the cascades had now been relinquished by the water. I was still rendered sightless as my poor eyeglasses were too steamed and spotted up to be functional. Led by Brad and Sydney, I heard the cacophonic caws of cormorants as clouds of gulls crowded the sky. It was...ethereal.

SORRY: Pointless Prose Over~Here's the point of this whole blog

A bird shit on me.

Brad, when he could speak again (as he and Sydney were rendered utterly speechless at the sight of me after I'd offered my own cry to the heavens, my words taking shaky flight, "I've been hit!"), searched the skies, shouting, "That couldn't have been a bird...it had to have been a flying elephant!" At least, I think he said "flying." 

Sydney was a bit more discreet and sensitive. "Let's just get you cleaned up a bit, shall we?" she said, slipping into a bad British accent while rummaging in her bag like Mary Poppins. Except, for purposes of this story, we'll call her "Mary Poop-ins."  

"This isn't so bad," she crooned as people passed us, in horror. "There's a chunk there," Brad pointed out helpfully, between gales of laughter. "I think we'll just clear her ear passage first," Sydney decided. "What?" I yelled. Shivers of revulsion shook my body. Sydney valiantly tried to act like she wasn't about to hurl. Brad snapped paparazzi pictures that I would delete less than an hour later. It wasn't until Sydney had sacrificed every possible item in her purse that could be used to scoop, scrape, or spoon that genius struck. "Why didn't we just have her go back under the falls?" Brad wondered as Sydney used another gum wrapper to wipe my neck.  We both stared at him. So helpful.

The rest of our party was waiting for us. "Mom, are you okay? You look a little flushed," Savannah chortled. "Sit down," my brother-in-law said gallantly, ushering me to a bench, "You must be feeling wiped out."  "Stop teasing her," Rene scolded, pointing me towards a lone seat. "Sit there, Amy, that stool isn't taken."  Lisa stomped her feet, glaring at my family, "You guys stink!"

What a flocking disaster of a day.