“Dad,” she whispered, looking out at the wave pool where a man in a inflatable parrot tube was flipping over. “This is better than finding actual buried treasure.”
“Dad,” she announced, treading water, “my treasure map says it’s time for grub.” pirates bay waterpark menu
Maya, all of nine years old and a self-proclaimed chicken tender connoisseur, pointed a decisive, pruney finger toward the larger of the two thatched-roof stands. A giant wooden sign, carved to look like a ship’s wheel, read: “Dad,” she whispered, looking out at the wave
“We’ll take two Captain’s Tenders,” Liam said, handing over a credit card as if surrendering a chest of doubloons. “One with buried treasure sauce. And a Grog’s Gulp.” “One with buried treasure sauce
They shuffled up the damp ramp, leaving sandy footprints behind. The menu board was a colorful explosion of pirate-themed puns and steep waterpark prices. Liam squinted up at it, reading aloud as a teenager in a striped shirt and eyepatch tapped his foot.