In case you're unfamiliar, Big Bounce America is the biggest bouncy house in the world. (And no, they are not sponsoring this post, although if they wanted to do such a thing I wouldn't be mad about it.) Their website describes the experience as "10,000 square feet of full-on inflatable fun," marketed at "families, teenagers, and any adults who still remember how to find fun in bouncing and flapping around something big and inflatable."
Friends, I am here to tell you: it is not that hard. Fun is literally everywhere at a place like that.
I do have to mention that the entire three-day visit to COS was filled with hour-long sessions available only to kids and families, except for one precious hour Sunday evening reserved for adults 16+. We nabbed our tickets for that hour pronto, and Daniel decided to come too.
I did not take any pictures because who wants a phone in their pocket while springing, sliding, leaping, and bouncing with abandon. (The photo below is from the Big Bounce America website.) Please refer to this article for another photo of the magical place.
https://thebigbounceamerica.com/experience/
Trust me when I say, it was a real-life utopia in there. There was no sadness, no disappointment, no heartache. There was only the pure, unadulterated bliss, camaraderie, and euphoria that comes from fully grown women and men engaging in a childhood dream.
Everybody basically became friends on sight: We interacted with strangers many times in the most jovial of manners, whether it was laughing mutually at our incredibly idiotic falls, or cheering each other on as we endeavored to do things like wrestle a giant inflatable dog or clamber awkwardly atop a huge inflatable cube. I watched a grown man take a running start to tackle an inflatable palm tree, which was flimsy, so he and the tree faceplanted immediately.
It was raining just a little when the hour started, but stopped within 15 minutes or so. That actually ended up being great, because the water made the whole thing feel like a slip-n-slide.
The whole place was bounceable, of course, but it was filled with lots of other activities too. There was a huge inflatable slide ending in a ball pit. There were inflatable basketball hoops and beach balls to dunk with. There were 3-foot-tall balls to roll around on. There was a Wipeout-esque room wherein people lined up to try to jump/climb on top of a huge inflatable cube and, if successful, then tried to climb from there on top of a second, larger cube behind it. This was where most people failed epically and fell off in a glorious display of clumsiness to general amusement. The best part about this is that none of it was judgmental. Everyone laughed hysterically at one another and at themselves, because literally nobody looked cool doing this, but no one cared.
Daniel and I raced each other on a short obstacle course-type thing. Picture two parallel courses comprised of a mini rock climbing wall and then a short slide down the other side, then the same thing again. Two little camel humps, basically. Daniel went whizzing stomach-style over both humps lightning fast, like a majestic porpoise. I struggled up the first wall and was going down the first hump as he was already crawling out the exit tunnel, victorious. I cannot possibly convey to you how funny this was. My most porpoise-like moment happened on our second try, when I attempted Daniel's strategy on the first hump, but didn't have enough momentum to get all the way over it, so I slid back down on my face in reverse.
There's really no point to this story except to try to document some of the joy. The three of us agreed that an hour spent in bouncy-house paradise was exactly what we all needed. I'm not advocating for escapism, but it was nice, for one hour, to be immersed in something completely counter to the horrific events we're experiencing.
Thanks for indulging my story, and consider this your reminder to connect with your inner child. They're in there somewhere, I promise.
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