The Great Park Escape
Life was kicking people in the teeth. Bills stacked higher than pancakes at IHOP, bosses acting like drill sergeants with caffeine addictions, and spouses giving the look that said, “you forgot the trash again.” People were reaching for Jack Daniels like it was vitamin water, and others were smoking enough marijuana to make Willie Nelson blush.
But then somebody had an idea: “What if we went outside?”
At first, the thought was terrifying. Outside? Where there’s sunshine, bugs, and other humans? But desperation makes people brave. So they packed up lawn chairs, coolers, and just enough snacks to make it feel like a road trip, and they headed for the nearest state, county, or city park.
The parks quickly became therapy centers without therapists. You had one guy on a park bench, staring at a squirrel like it was his spirit animal. Another lady was speed-walking in circles, muttering to herself—cheaper than therapy, healthier than tequila. Parents released their kids onto the playground like wild animals, shouting “Go burn off your energy!” while they collapsed on picnic tables.
And then there were the senior citizens on bicycles. Oh, they looked determined. Helmets strapped on tight, knees popping louder than bubble wrap, pedaling down the trail like they were in the Tour de France. Every onlooker thought the same thing: “These folks aren’t out for exercise—they’re auditioning for the next ambulance ride.” You could practically hear Medicare holding its breath with every wobble.
Everywhere you looked, people were trying to relax in their own odd way. One guy stretched out on a blanket like he was auditioning for a “Relaxation for Dummies” photo shoot. Another woman had brought her yoga mat, but gave up halfway through and just lay flat, face-down, in “corpse pose” for the next two hours.
By the end of the day, nobody had solved their problems. The bills were still waiting, the bosses were still jerks, and the spouses still wanted the trash taken out. But everyone left the park just a little bit lighter, with sunburns, bug bites, and the faint smell of barbecue clinging to their clothes.
Turns out you don’t need Jack Daniels or marijuana to take the edge off—you just need a patch of grass, a couple of geese, and the hope they don’t chase you back to the car.
