“Oh the Hu-Manatee” in Crystal River

Crystal River Day Two

The boat left at 7 a.m. My wife was ready to go, and I had been rubbing my eyes for 45 minutes. We were in Florida, and it was cold. The water was 74 degrees, so they gave us insulated wetsuits to prevent hypothermia.

We managed to get into the wetsuits without putting them on backward, unlike the girl next to us. On the boat, they went over safety or something—I wasn't paying attention. One crew member was a photographer hired by the hotel to get action shots for promotional materials. Dreams do come true. They explained that the wetsuits would make our feet float up and push our chest down. I’m already top-heavy (shouldn't have skipped leg day), so that sucked. If you had facial hair, your mask wouldn’t seal. It would’ve been nice to address these me-specific problems earlier, but whatever. I lasted about eight seconds in the water before I lost it.

I had to push water away from my face to avoid doing a front flip; my mask was full of water, it leaked into my snorkel, and I just smashed my hand on a rock. Wait—why is there a rock by my face? Is it floating? Oh, it’s a manatee. I was mid-front-flip, eyes full of water, actively drowning, and this 1,200-pound manatee was staring at me like it wanted to hang out. No, it was more condescending than that. I looked to my wife for support.

"You look like you're struggling."

Thanks, Wife. I finished my episode and decided to find a shallow area, stand completely still, and avoid drowning. On the boat, they said that even though it’s shallow enough to stand, you can’t put your feet down because it stirs up dust and ruins visibility. I chose life. This choice initially earned me some dirty looks from my new lifelong enemy, the photographer. I must have picked a prime spot because I still got plenty of action. The manatees huddled in one roped-off area, but the babies liked to play with visitors. They swam around my legs, gave me little nibbles, and one even napped on my feet. I had to stand still for plenty of photos. Later, they tried to sell me those photos for $40. Thank you for selling pictures of me to me—for $40. I should’ve demanded royalties for the hotel pamphlet. My wife, meanwhile, snorkeled ten thousand miles before joining me in my manatee hotspot. She abandoned me while I was fighting for my life but conveniently showed up for the baby manatee cuddles and photo ops.

We got back on the boat for coffee and hot chocolate.

We still hadn’t eaten, and adventuring in the early morning made the day feel long. At Grannie’s Country Cooking, they gave us a pager since it was jam-packed. The pager didn’t work, so they screamed for us. They sat the two of us at a table for six. Maybe this explained the crowd—poor planning. We each ordered breakfast and then a third breakfast to share. The table groaned under country-fried steak, pancakes, grits, over-easy eggs, sausage, bacon, hashbrowns, biscuits, and gravy. Hand me the hot sauce.

There was a park wrapping around the same area we swam. From above, you could see the manatees, which was much safer than seeing those ferocious predators up close. The water was so blue it seemed unreal. You could watch the manatees swimming between pools through narrow channels.

Time for a full-on nap.

After our pre-turn-up nap, we got ready and headed to the beer festival. The giant warehouse full of beer also had a silent auction. There were steins, wines, massage packages—is that a wheel of cheese? We were winning that cheese. We didn’t win the cheese.

We tried samples from every brewery we could—except the ginger ale guy. This wasn’t just another IPA festival—there was lots of variety. A brewery club had a booth. They pooled resources to buy equipment and took turns brewing. Each homebrewer named their beer after their first name. It was adorable. Another booth had homemade whiskey. I had to plan our attack with that one. I could drink it all day. My wife said I couldn’t. The Irish band was excellent, and plenty of people danced, which meant shorter lines at the beer tables for us. Suckers. Food trucks served the only food. One truck exclusively sold soft pretzel bites—where’d my wife go? The band wrapped up, and the beer started running out—time to panic.

"Do you have any beer?"

"No, I have homemade ginger ale."

"Eh."

"The guy over there still has whiskey. You could make a Whiskey Ginger."

"Listen here, buddy. Don’t you tell me how to—that’s a great idea."

Until I get dragged somewhere else,

A Lazy Husband.

Antiquing in Crystal River

Crystal River Day One

We were greeted by a sign reading, “Your husband called and said you could buy anything you want.”

Not this time, antique store. There wouldn’t be any ludicrous spending on my—was that a treasure chest? I had never needed anything like I needed that treasure chest. It was coming home with me for sure. My wife and I decided it wasn’t the right move for us. I decided it was too big to get into the car without her noticing.

We were antiquing. My wife got away with that being our first stop because there was a brewery conveniently placed between the two antique stores.

The brewery was inside a classic Irish pub. It was traditional, from the signage to the proper Guinness pouring—which, to my Guinness-brewery-trained wife’s delight, met her exacting standards. The brewery only made one barrel of each beer. I ordered something called Squirrel Chaser to my wife’s disdain. She wanted it but refused to copy me. She settled for a Manatee Milk Stout. My chocolate peanut butter beer tasted exactly like a Reese’s Cup. A gentleman at the bar called out, “Are you two in town for the beer festival?”

“We are now.”

The second antique store was not as interesting. Lacking treasure chests and funny signs, we moved on to lunch.

We checked in at The Plantation on Crystal River. The lively front desk staff welcomed us and explained the grounds. Many sporting options awaited: tennis, horseshoes, giant chess, giant checkers, air hockey, foosball, croquet—stop. Of course, I was playing croquet. “I’ll take the sticks, please.”

“They’re called mallets.”

The balls were random colors, one inexplicably larger than the others. “Do you know what you’re doing?” my wife asked.

“Obviously,” I said while rummaging through the bag.

The bag included instructions—which I immediately discarded—and I consulted a YouTube video instead. Using the mallet, you hit the balls through the hoops. Simple enough. One hoop wasn’t fully in the ground. Luckily, I had a mallet and hammered it back into place. Blue and black balls were one team; red and yellow, the other. Whatever you say, Croquet. We discovered my wife is awful at croquet. We played twice, and she only beat me twice. I took my beating like a true gentleman and went to the bar.

The hotel bar offered a mixed drink special: 32 ounces of coconut rum, mango rum, light rum, pineapple rum, orange rum, a splash of orange and pineapple juice—all topped with a float of dark rum. They asked if I was interested. I explained it would ruin my plans to stay alive later that evening. I settled for a beer and bumped into a couple of friends. Friends? We were far from home. What were they doing here?

“I had a work thing in the area.” That story checked out, so they joined us. We had dinner plans at 9 p.m. They were changed to 7 p.m. the next evening when fate called.

“Hello, this is fate. There’s a beer festival in town.”

We rescheduled dinner and needed to kill some time. I ordered a $6 beer. My friend got a $6 flight. Could I cancel my beer? I switched to a $6 flight. My wife had a wine flight, and her friend—who was on a cleanse—settled for water. Ugh. My wife regretted trusting this place’s wine selections. The beers, however, were solid.

At dinner, my wife couldn’t decide which white wine to order. The server brought her a taste test of two anonymous varieties. I wanted red; she wanted white. We compromised and got white. She preferred the Sauvignon Blanc. Using my best wine snob voice, I ordered the “sobinnnibngion baaaalanccckkk.” I chose the roast half duckling, which came with a recommended Pinot Noir pairing. The eccentric server sold me on it. My wife ordered a 16-ounce steak with zero regard for wine pairings.

After dinner, we discovered they offered a Guinness Draft Beer Float. Why wasn’t that already on my table? My wife opted for a 4-dimensional chocolate cake—or, as it’s known in less sci-fi circles, flourless chocolate cake. It even came with a candle for her recent birthday.

Back at the hotel, I grabbed a bottle of wine from the downstairs bar. A glass was poured but went untouched. Someone had a long day. Tomorrow, we’d face nature’s most ferocious predator: the manatee—the animal, not the milk stout.

Food and Chainsaws

Halloween Horror Nights Day Two

The driver—sorry, Captain of the boat to Universal Studios—he’s got jokes. Are they boat-themed? “My first mate is brand new. He asked if boats sink very often. I told him not to worry—it’s usually just the once.” He was so good, I thought he should take a ‘bow.’ Aren’t you glad we didn’t take the bus?

We started this bright sunshiny day with a trip to Islands of Adventure. I needed something to wake me up after a night of nightmares following the ten haunted houses. How about the Hulk? Well, I can’t get my eyes to stop watering. I feel like this roller coaster is throwing me directly into the sun. I’m staring right at it.

After that, we walked by Kong. We walked right on past it because no one thinks I’d like it. You don’t have to tell me twice. Well, we’re riding it now. I loved it, and my wife felt sick—that one backfired. I couldn’t tell what was real and what was CGI. I took my glasses on and off to check. I missed half the story and got sprayed in the eye—I took full responsibility. Don’t tell me how dirty the water is.

If you’re an American Express cardholder, you and your party can access their lounge. It’s quiet but has a lot of people. I’m not sure you can keep this many people that quiet. American Express people, I guess. I’m not here for awkward silences. I’m here for tiny bottles of water and Nature’s Valley bars—there are a billion of each. There’s no way they take inventory on these things. I almost expected the granola bars to be American Express flavor. You wouldn’t believe how many of these I could fit in my mouth—slightly less than 1.

Next up was Jurassic Park. One of my wife’s favorite rides here at the park. She loves the ride, and I love not getting wet. We compromised. We go on the ride, but I’m going to hide under the railing like a child. My wife didn’t know about my half of the compromise—wish me luck! That was a medium to light soaking. Not as bad as the look I got for hiding under the railing.

We were all starving, so we got Moe’s before our pre-turn-up nap. A decision that we came to regret. This is not a linner situation. We ate a late lunch, napped, and ate an early dinner—we did both. After I woke up from a consensual coma, I learned to communicate with my fellow humans once again.

Dinner was at the new Big Fire. Not “Coal Fire,” “I Don’t Know Some Kind of Fire,” or any of our other guesses. It was Big Fire. Without the ability to consume another drop of alcohol, we all order soda. Somehow the soda replenishes our electrolytes—or will to live—or whatever, but let’s get our drink on. We got Harry Potter World exclusive Dragonscale Red Lagers and went to Hogwarts for the light show. They were doing a special one for Haunted Horror Nights. These shows are always so great. I don’t know how they do them. I assume it’s some fancy overhead projector. I definitely couldn’t get an overhead projector to work this well. I know my 4th-grade social studies teacher sure couldn’t.

I wanted to get some use out of my “I’m just here for the boos” T-shirt. It has a little ghost on it that looks like he parties. We got drinks and hit the scare zones. It was all about getting the best seats to watch people scream while getting scared by strangers with chainsaws. It mainly was me screaming.

The highlight of the scare zone watching was a shift change of the chainsaw wielders. My goodness, could they clear a street. All the mid-shift workers were ready to go home, and all the night shift workers—or should I say Grave Shift workers—started work by lining up and running everyone off the main drag. I can’t think of a better team-building exercise than a group causing mass involuntary screaming—among other unintended things. This all took place while I volunteered to try Duff Brewing’s Dufftoberfest. As some of you, besides my wife, may know, my dream day here is to get a Duff beer and then ride the Men in Black ride. I prefer Dragonscale, but it’s further away. I would switch between those two things until my scores get lower from intoxication rather than higher from practice. Now, I was having a Dufftoberfest and watching the Florida Chainsaw “Shift-Change-Occur”—is that the right amount of syllables? Scare zones and Dufftoberfest was the Haunted Horror Nights version of that dream day.

Hellbilly Deluxe was Rob Zombie-themed. I don’t know how he got a scare zone and a haunted house, but he sure loves scaring people.

Vanity Ball was about plastic surgery mishaps and trying to call people onto the stage. That last part was my wife’s genuine fear—trying to keep me off the stage.

Double-Tap is Zombieland-themed and had zombies trying to breathe as close to you as possible.

Vikings Undead was dark and depressing and somehow colder than the rest of the park—Idk.

AnArcade was lit, like lit up. It had cool lights and women on stilts—a sensory overload.

Can we get the same boat captain on the way home? That would float my boat.

Until I get dragged somewhere else,

A Lazy Husband.

Are You Afraid of the Dark— Yes

Halloween Horror Nights Day One

You know I’ve had a blast at Universal Studios before—one of the few reasons I’m willing to leave my house. Seriously, there’s a kegerator there. We’ve gone many times to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine—just not this time. It was Halloween Horror Nights. We were there for the moonlight and the fog-machine smell. I love costumes, haunted houses, and passing out—drunk—candy. I also love haunted amusement parks. My wife agrees with me on all fronts, except for the dressing up part. She’s also a bigger fan of eating the candy than passing it out. I’m convinced she buys two bags of our candy supply and eats the other before I notice.

I’ve had the pleasure of going to three of the top haunted amusement parks in the country.

Kennywood has Fright Nights. I know you probably haven’t heard of Kennywood, but it made the top 5. It’s home to one of the top ten wooden roller coasters in the world, The Thunderbolt. Kennywood is in Pittsburgh, which hopefully you’ve heard of, but if not, I’m sure you’ve heard of Pennsylvania. Busch Gardens Williamsburg has Howl-O-Scream. Busch Gardens Williamsburg is themed around European countries, just like Busch Gardens Tampa is themed around African countries.

But we’re here to talk about number one—the reigning champ, who’s been doing this for 29 years: Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights.

We made lame excuses to get out of work early. You might be thinking, “They took a nooner on a Friday. What’s the big deal?” Nope! We took a nooner on a Thursday—and took Friday off. This is the big leagues, nerds! If you start on a Friday, you won’t be as productive as we intend to be tonight. I realize I’m talking about being productive at an amusement park while skipping a day and a half of work, but you’ve got to have your priorities. My team at work said I could leave if they could finally meet my wife when she picked me up. Joke’s on them—that’s a terrible trade! We agreed and made the exchange. "Hello," said my wife—and away we go! Told you!

Our amusement park friends from the daytime Universal Studios trip were waiting for us at the hotel bar. The same friends—we don’t have many. We rushed to meet them before they drank the bar dry. We got there just in time to sit and enjoy a draft IPA. This beer needs a burger.

On the way up to the hotel room, we noticed this hotel was all about technology. Everything seemed overly complicated, and there was a rumor that robots brought up your room service. I’m not letting any robots know where my room is, thank you very much. Zombies and intelligent apes also need not apply. As we unpacked, my wife pulled a bottle of wine from our backpack. She looked at our friends and said, "I got us covered," while attempting to wink. Our friends responded by revealing that one of their bags was a cooler. It had a bottle of wine, a 12-pack of beer—and snacks.

Daytime stuff is for losers—or us on any other day—but it’s Halloween Horror Nights. Let’s do some nighttime stuff. It was Florida at 5 pm, but I’ve got a great imagination—plus beer. We had to wait in line to enter the haunted areas. I didn’t mind, because we had beer and Auntie Anne’s pretzels. I was smiling—cut to 5 minutes later. I was out of food, out of beer, and it was hot. Now, I was making the face I make when I pretend to do cardio.

They corralled us into the gate, and I showed them whatever they wanted. My wife handed it to me. That’s not my area, but the secret password (my ticket) worked.

Here’s why we came: Ten Haunted Houses. Was this a good time to tell everyone I’m afraid of haunted houses—and the dark?

The first one we hit was Stranger Things. We went there first because of its popularity—it’s in the algorithm. The house focused on the second and third seasons of the show. I binge-watched the whole thing, so who remembers what goes where? The parts I could compartmentalize made an impression on me, and they did a great job recreating them here.

Next up was Ghostbusters. We read it was gaining popularity, so I figured it would be a nice break from me being terrified because, you know, it’s a comedy movie, right? They got me distracted with all the cool effects, and I lost situational awareness. Got a few good jumps.

On to House of 1000 Corpses—gulp. It was rough in there. Were there 1000 corpses? Did I even want to know? There were certainly mannequins in there. Please don’t do the thing where one of the mannequins isn’t a mannequin but a person pretending to be a mannequin who jumps out and scares me—they did the thing.

Yeti: Terror on the Yukon had snow. That’s terrifying enough for a Floridian. Honestly, I think they just had the thermostat set to a decent temperature. I could picture my wife under four blankets. That was a fun stop. Still pretty scary, though.

We needed to get to Us before it got too crowded—the algorithm! For a movie that made me say, “Wait, what’s happening?” a lot, this house delivered. Creepy throughout.

Killer Clowns from Outer Space. I have no idea what this is.

Depths of Fear had an underwater theme. It was different, but still scary. It was the only one where someone managed to get around my wife to scare me. Yeah, I hid behind her the whole night.

Nightingales: Blood Pit. The name was scary enough. Did I even have to go in? It was dark by this point, so I started employing other strategies to keep my cool.

Graveyard Games was the jumpiest of the houses. Stuff kept popping out of nowhere. I had to use my main anti-scare tactic of dance-walking to get through it. It keeps me from focusing on the terror.

Universal Monsters was a scary rendition of all their classics. A well-done haunted house. Not like how they tried to create an Avengers-style cinematic universe. That fell apart after the first try. The Mummy was supposed to be chapter one.

Then it was on to dinner at the Universal Monsters Diner. At this point, I could speak about as well as a monster. "Arghbargah pizza bahgar," as my wife retells it. So, I ended up with a pizza—I’m sure it was delicious. I’m told we watched a fantastic water dancing show, which I remember for sure, and then we ended up on a bus.

“Can we order room service?”

“Beep-boop.”

How to Wait in Line

Universal Studios Day Two

We rode Rip Ride Rocket, where you had to choose music to accompany the ride. Naturally, I asked if they had any Melodic Metalcore. They didn’t, but they had Heavy Metal, so I went with Motley Crue. My wife, notorious for being overwhelmed by menus, took too long to pick, and the ride made the decision for her. It chose French Jazz/Electronica. No Melodic Metalcore, huh?

We got up early since we had early access passes. That was why we went to bed early… well, I meant to go to bed early. Wait, scratch that—I forgot. So, I made my bed and had to lie in it. I wish I could've just lied in it for real. We tried to ride as much as possible before the peasants—people without early access—arrived. Our mission? Get to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.

My wife and the better half of our couples-friends are obsessed. To join in, I’d been memorizing Harry Potter trivia to either enjoy something with my wife… or become more powerful than the both of them combined. Spoiler: I wasn’t even close. I’ve listened to all the audiobooks though—I’m not allowed to say I "read" them. This massive team knowledge got us second place in two Harry Potter-themed trivia nights. Still no gold, though.

Once, the tie-breaker for first place was, “How far is Universal Studios from this bar?” How did we miss that!?

I made my famous "Let's get a beer at 10 am" joke—it's not a joke. Welcome back to our Untappd account, DragonScale. We wandered through robe shops and a few other kinds of memorabilia. Then we made our way over to the wands. They had a show about picking out a wand, and I tried to stand near the front because I heard they pick a crowd volunteer. No one told me they only choose kids—rude—well, my wife did tell me. Then, I got banished to the back row because my big head was blocking the view. Thanks, I had a blast back there.

Next, we went to Knockturn Alley—now that's the real party. How was it so dark in there? Wasn't it daytime? I was genuinely terrified.

The train took us from Harry Potter World in Universal Studios to Harry Potter World in Islands of Adventure. They played a video of Harry Potter things on the windows, and I honestly didn’t believe we were moving. I thought it was some kind of movie-watching experience. My wife had to convince me that we had actually moved to Islands of Adventure.

One way or another, we ended up in Islands of Adventure. We checked out the Hog's Head and drank more Harry Potter beer. They had Hog's Head Red and Butterbeer, of course, but they also had fire whiskey. You could get a shot, even a double, but you couldn’t mix it with the Butterbeer—it’s non-alcoholic. What you could do was turn around, hide in a corner, and become a potions master. The bartenders even said, “No potions at the bar, please.”

Then, it was time for the real reason I got out of bed—Hagrid’s Magical Motorbike Adventure. Since it would be a long wait, we grabbed fresh beers and busted out the Harry Potter trivia cards my boss doesn’t know I printed at work. What could possibly go wrong?

Things very quickly went wrong. Early in the line, we passed a beer stand. Since we had just filled up, we moved right past it. With the added encouragement of in-line libations, our drinking rate increased. Looking for the next beer stand was a lost cause. Why was the only one at the beginning? We could bring beers into line. We didn’t need the stand until later. At least we had the trivia cards.

Everyone knew 90% of the answers. Our Ravenclaw nerd knew about 100%. When it was our turn, you could choose to ride the motorcycle or the sidecar. My wife said, “Shotgun motorcycle.” Sucker—the sidecar is where it's at. Hagrid’s Magical Motorbike Adventure might be the best roller coaster ever—if you rode in the sidecar. It’s super low to the track! Take a stand. Pick a side—#teamsidecar.

Jurassic Park sounded good in the daylight and might even be my wife’s favorite ride in the park. We ended up in the single-rider line. My two favorite things—wet clothes and strangers! My wife and I were lucky enough to get on the same raft. Don’t be fooled, though; they do split parties up. Next to us was a boy about seven. He didn’t have anyone sitting next to him. He asked if it was our first time—I must have looked nervous. He put his feet up on the empty seat, flipped down his sunglasses, and said, “This is my 15th time today.” How was this kid so cool? Where were his parents?

We went back to the room for a full-on nap. Afterward, we floated back to the park. There was a light show scheduled to be projected onto Hogwarts, starting right after sunset. When was that? There was no way to know if it had already happened. My wife said it was still bright out, so that meant—no, it hadn’t happened yet. I knew it was coming because the employees started herding us toward the front. Fourteen people screamed, “Move up!” at the top of their lungs. We pretended we couldn’t hear them. I looked up like I was trying to count the stars. Since the sun was still up, I got to 1. It took me until the end of the show to realize I was out of beer. It must have been good.

Since the park was getting ready to close, we made plans to head to City Walk. My wife wanted to try the Italian place, Vivo. Excuse me, what was that noise? A party whistle? No, it was the fire alarm—does my wife cook here? We started to get up, but the bartender didn’t seem concerned. We asked him if we should leave. His expression was basically, "Why?" The entire time we were there, BEEP every few seconds. BEEP after the appetizers. BEEP while we were deciding on menu options. BEEP. Nobody had any intention of turning it off. It kept going the whole time.

I had the squid ink pasta because I heard Gordon Ramsay say "squid ink pasta" once. As we wrapped up the last sip of wine—me inverting the bottle into my mouth—the beeping finally stopped, and we walked out the door.

It was time to get a good night's sleep to be ready for the drive tomorrow—or we could go clubbing. Clubs are my nightmares. If I wanted nightmares, I could've just gone to sleep! After it went exactly how I thought it would—bam, it was 2 am! What am I, in my mid-to-early-twenties? I’ll never recover from this. Not much difference between a 2 am beer and a 10 am beer.

Until I get dragged somewhere else,

A Lazy Husband.

Park Themed Beers

Universal Studios Day One

In the car, my wife and I finally realized we weren’t alone—both of us had been zoned out, staring at the same patch of road like it held life’s secrets. Once we rejoined reality, we tackled the trip budget. She launched into coupon-clipping strategies, and I drifted off into a glorious daydream of strutting around in all four Hogwarts house robes, dousing myself in unicorn tears from a souvenir cup. We met in the middle: no souvenir cup. That saved us half the cost and 100% of the weird looks.

At Sapphire Falls, we opted for two queen beds instead of a king. Not because of our usual protocol of eating in one bed and sleeping in the stainless, crumb-free second. Nope, this time we had amusement-park-loving friends splitting the room. I spotted them in the lobby from a mile away—their backpack was a dead giveaway. I waved them over, and we made a quick plan before heading upstairs. Once settled, I casually mentioned that I’m afraid of the dark. It’s important to set the tone early in these situations.

We had to get on a water taxi, which is the most extraordinary way to get to the park. While waiting in line, we came up with our drinking game for the day: drink every time you see a dad in cargo shorts. Take a second drink if he looks miserable. We had to quit pretty early due to a tragic collision of human physiology and statistics.

A family was trying to take a selfie with the water in the background, so I decided to do the right thing—walk right past them and mind my own business. They didn’t ask me to take any photos! It drives me crazy when I get the lighting perfect, the frame just right, and my less chubby cheek lined up—only to have some cargo-short-wearing guy walk by saying, “Haha, want me to take one for you?”

My wife doesn’t share this philosophy and offered to take their picture. They said no! Ha! I was ready to walk off into the sunset, laughing inappropriately, when they changed their minds and agreed. Several hours passed. Or maybe it just felt that way.

When we got to the part of the park I’d been waiting for—Marvel Super Hero Island—we went straight to Doctor Doom’s Fear Fall. I hate drop towers, but I love the ones that shoot you up. We got in line, and I started to panic. She kept reassuring me it was the shoot-up side, not the drop-down side. The more she said it, the less I believed her.

We also rode my favorite Universal Studios ride, The Amazing Adventures of Spider-Man. I promised her we’d ride The Hulk the next night. Spoiler alert: I broke that promise.

The guys put their backpacks in the lockers before we rode Escape from Gringotts. When we came back, the wives were deep in conversation with a Harry Potter-obsessed employee spilling the secrets of the Wizarding World’s hidden drink menu. Naturally, I was sent as the scout. I leaned across the bar and whispered, "Let me get The Triple. Don’t worry. I’m cool." The bartender stared at me like I’d asked for a unicorn horn. "I have no idea what you’re talking about," he said. I walked out empty-handed and a little humbled, clutching another Dragon Scale lager. At least it’s one of my all-time favorites.

My wife? She pulled it off. She ordered the triple-layered drink—Dragon Scale, Strongbow Cider, and Guinness—and every time she orders it, people ask about it. The layers are crystal clear, like a magic potion. Next, we hopped in line for Men in Black.

"Let’s make this interesting," I said. "Lowest score buys the next round." A guy in line started giving my wife tips. I listened intently from a distance, absorbing every word. Before we reached the ride, she tried to pass the advice to our friends, but I shushed her. Competitive edge secured, I didn’t come in last. I might go pro. I told an employee my score, and he smirked, "First time?"

Dinner at Antojitos was great—the food, not the tap list. Luckily, Jurassic Park came through. They had a new beer to celebrate Velocicoaster’s opening: Isla Nublar, a tropical IPA. We grabbed it from Natural Selections, our favorite booth across from the main one. The main booth always has a ridiculous line. Natural Selections? Quick and efficient.

"Is it the beer with the shark tap handle?" my wife asked.

"No," I said. "Why would it have a shark? It’s a dinosaur beer." The tap handle, of course, was a Mosasaur eating a shark. She was right. Again.

The only other goal tonight was to ride Velocicoaster. We’d done it earlier, but everyone said the real magic was at night. Universal is leaning more into coasters and less into virtual rides, which I fully support. The themed decor, hilarious pre-ride video, and terrifying raptors—statues or not—were top-notch. But just as we were ready to ride, rain hit. Enough to shut everything down.

Once I heard it was closed, I became a dad trying to beat traffic. No one else moved. "What are we doing?" I asked.

"If you wait long enough, they give out free Express Passes," someone said.

"This looks like a good place to sit," another added.

After 15 minutes and three knee cracks, I was on the ground. Naturally, that’s when everyone started moving. Getting up takes longer. By the time I was upright, we were perfectly positioned if the ride reopened. Don’t let my excitement fool you—I complained the whole time. They need in-line beer booths for this kind of nonsense. Instead, I spent the wait reading Epic Universe theories and complaining some more. We eventually got our Express Passes and left, not a drop of rain on us.

I caught up on drinks at Rising Star, the live band karaoke bar. I tried to work up the courage to sing. My preparation involved clearing my throat a lot and having a minor panic attack. By the time I agreed, the list was full. I could’ve spent that warm-up time looking up more Men in Black tips.