Inspired by an interesting sign I saw many moons ago at Busch Gardens - for those interested, : / / seaworld parks en / buschgardens - Williamsburg / Attractions /Rides / Griffon scroll down, Disabled Guide, download Access Guide.
For me, it was a somewhat amusing sign, and I wrote this on the way back home.
Hiccup didn't read the signs. Did anybody read the signs? He'd never had cause to before.
But, one ride away from his joint turn on the roller-coaster, the chagrin was enough to wish he had.
It hadn't been Hiccup's idea to go to an amusement park, but his friends were all going and he'd thought it would be fun. Most of the roller-coasters he'd done so far weren't that different from riding (or, more accurately, being on the receiving end of some aerial punishment from) a dragon.
But less than five minutes from the ride, an awkward-looking attendant, no more than two or three years his senior, had come up to him and insisted he read the rules.
It had been a slight shock to learn that prosthetic legs were prohibited.
Which was annoying.
His friends looked at him as he read the board, Astrid's eyes wide.
"This is lame anyway," she decided, shooting an ugly look at the attendant and grabbing Hiccup by the forearm.
"Loose articles are also not allowed," he continued helpfully "Lockers are downstairs for twenty-five cents an hour-"
"And how would I get back up?" Hiccup was beginning to be very irritated.
"Oh. One minute, I'll call my supervisor-"
"You could hop," suggested Tuffnut.
"Why don't you hop, idiot." Ruff pounded him in the side of the head.
"Oh. Wait. Can you do that again?"
"I don't think so," Fishlegs said delicately. "As we've climbed six hundred and seventy-four stairs in a big square so f-"
Astrid humphed in disgust. "If Hiccup's not going, I'm not going," she announced. Tuffnut snorted, and Astrid spat, "And neither are you, dummy. Any of you."
Hiccup stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Oh, I'm going," he assured her. "I might not ever get down from this thing, I have no idea if this is gonna kill me – but I'm going. Or did you think I climbed all those seven hundred-"("Six-hundred-seventy-four," interjected Fishlegs in a whisper) stairs for nothing?"
