Irish Fest

Way down on the street,
Little teens meet.
Way up in the sky,
Little teens fly.
We stand in the booths,
And get cool tattoos.
We sit here and wait,
And spill lemonade.
An hour and two spills later,
We go for a ride in the Sky Glider.
We talk about heights,
And get into fights.
Clawing at each other, getting real mad,
The ride stops midair, oh god, that's bad!
Finally we get off and go somewhere far,
Where we see Waldo playing Tug O' War!
Sky Glider again, and shopping too,
We bought some hats (no, we didn't steal those two!)
And then certain people, (I won't say who)
Decided the Sky Glider was the best thing to do.
Saw a parade, and some old friends,
Oh no, will the line for the sky ride never end?
Decided against it, too big a crowd,
Certain people got mad, but got over being 'bummed out'
Walking and laughing, avoiding the shows,
When someone decides she really has to go!
Great, we say, and look for the rooms,
She leaves me alone to face my doom.
Now she's back and we head off,
Someone else decides we shouldn't get LOST.
Great technique, I have to say,
Although we did scare all those Irish folks away!

*Vote/Comment...please! Note that this is a reflection of what happened to me when I went to Irish Fest with some of my friends*