Here’s what I picture as a romance-dripping moment with my boyfriend: a summer road trip with a solid playlist, hiking up a mountain to take in the panoramic view at the top hand-in-hand, good conversation over a bottle of cabernet. Here’s what I definitely don’t picture: screaming children sticky with funnel cake, $15 food court slop served on Styrofoam, sweating like hogs in 99% humidity... the list goes on and on, kind of like the lines for literally every damn thing in the park.
But the biggest romantic buzzkill of all? Life-size puppetry. You and your sweetheart are gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, and that’s when Donald Duck waddles up behind you and begins theatrically flapping his wing-hands. Everywhere else in the world, a stranger approaching you from behind with no pants on is deemed sexual misconduct.