My little guy slept in and gave me a rare quiet morning. I could’ve done anything—jog with Rosie, do yoga, tend the garden, even go back to bed. Instead, I made French toast for my family. I thought I was the first one up, but Desiree was busy on her laptop when I entered the kitchen. When I asked what she was working on, she said she was reading about this fitness festival going on in Gibbi Point today and wanted to know if we could go. And by we, she meant she and I! I felt so special, like someone had just handed me a prestigious award. Those past few months, the closer we got to her birthday, I felt my cool dad points evaporating at an exponential rate. Nice to know I still had a few left.
After hearing the details of the event, however, my regret level rose a bit. Gibbi Point was known for its weirdos, so I should have expected there’d be some level of novelty. They wanted the attendees to wear costumes, and I had no doubt that was half of the appeal for Desi’s sudden interest. I was less than thrilled about looking like a goober, but if that’s what it took for an afternoon with my daughter, so be it. I didn’t even need to comb through my closet to know we’d need to go shopping. My Freezer Bunny onesie was the only thing I had that resembled a costume, but I absolutely refused to wear it around anyone outside my family. My suggestion to make a day of it thrilled Desi even more when I proposed we go to Thrift Tea after breakfast. All morning, a question sat on my tongue: why me? This could’ve easily been a family outing. But the part of me that quietly counted down the days we had left together didn’t dare ask.
The last time I was at that store, I was in such a dark place, afraid to be spotted. I browsed quickly, found what I wanted, and jet like a vampire at sunrise. Stepping across the threshold, I felt like I was visiting for the first time. I stood at the door for a moment, taking in the scene. On one side, gently used clothes and vintage knick-knacks lined the walls and gave the store a unique odor. On the other side was a coffee house set up with a little stage where people were reciting poetry and spoken word. Overpriced lattes aside, I saw the appeal. There was a nice, chill vibe in the air. If this place had existed, I’m sure it would be the spot for me, Less, and our two-and-a-half friends.
The selection of costumes surprised me. I mean, the place turned out to be a goldmine, and I actually had fun combing through them. Some made me laugh. Others I considered taking home for Sophia, heh. There were so many directions I could have taken, but I chose the path of least resistance. If I had to wear a costume, I wanted to look good—and survive a workout in it. I chose the Monte Vistan Soldier, and I looked damn good. When I presented myself to Desi, she shrieked and disappeared into the women’s racks. Minutes later, she showed back up in the same costume. Twinsies, as she would say. Naturally, we had to take more than a few selfies.
Shopping with my daughter was big fun. By the time we hit the road to Gibbi Point—which was a bit of a drive—we were riding that high. But as soon as we touched down, everything went downhill. Gibbi Point was huge, with pockets of activities scattered everywhere. Without proper signage, we followed the crowds, only to realize—over and over—we were with the wrong folks. Eventually, we found what looked like our tribe, despite being the only ones in costume. Desi’s icy glare could’ve taken them all out. We could have changed and blended in, but we weren’t about to after all the effort we put into choosing them.
It was a spin class on the dock, led by an older woman who looked like she had been cycling since before bikes had gears. I just knew this would be a piece of cake.
Spoiler: it was not.
Class was already in progress, but two bikes were open, so we took them and started. Spinning in a skirt was … more complicated than I expected. The airflow was nice, I’ll give it that, but there were logistics no one had prepared me for. Once I got myself situated without violating any decency laws, I started pedaling, trying to match the rhythm of the class like I knew what I was doing.
Naturally, I looked for Desi. Even from behind, I knew she was locked in. She leaned forward, steady pace—the poster child for fully committed. She looked like she belonged there. I looked like a man who had made several poor decisions in a row. My head glistened almost immediately. Thighs on fire. Lungs working overtime. At some point, I started questioning every morning I chose comfort over a jog. Whether I was getting old again or just out of shape, I was not prepared for this level of suffering.
Meanwhile, Desi kept going. There’s something deeply humbling about struggling in real time while your child thrives right next to you. I tried to sit up a little straighter, add some power, reclaim a shred of dignity—but my legs had already filed for divorce.
At one point, I spotted an older man out on the lake in a kayak, moving like he had nothing to prove. Calm. Controlled. Free. I wanted that to be me someday. Just … not today. Today, I just needed to not die on this bike.
When Desi finally slowed down, I’ll admit—I got a little hopeful. Not because I wanted her to struggle, but because I desperately needed this to be over. I held on as long as I could, pretending I had more left in the tank than I actually did. Turns out, we both tapped out just minutes before the end.
Desi had to pee, so we found a bathroom right next to a barn with archery lanes set up outside. When Desi saw the station, her eyes lit up like kids at Winterfest. Before disappearing into the bathroom, she announced—very emphatically—we were doing that next. So much for kayaking. Shooting arrows sounded like fun, though. I mean, our spiffy outfits kind of required it. Speaking of, we finally spotted other Sims in costume. They were finishing up their archery session, so Desi and I kicked her soccer ball around while we waited.
They were amateurs, just like us. They didn’t even clean up their arrows when they left. Desi and I had to collect them before we could start. We could have done with a short demo or tutorial video or something because we had no idea what we were doing. All we had to go on was whatever we saw on TV. It seemed to serve Desi well, however. She had what looked to me to be good form. Her arrow flew down the lane and landed at 5 points!
I stepped up to the line, feeling quite powerful and sexy in my costume and mighty weapon in my hand. Hopefully it would grant me experience points by osmosis or something. I only got 3 points, but looking at all the missed shots still stuck in the bales of hay and everything else, I was glad I even hit the target, heh.
Just as Desi stepped up for her second turn, a voice over the loudspeaker announced the festival would end in one hour. The disappointment on her face was even louder. Admittedly, I was a bit peeved myself. Getting lost burned up our time, but there was no use getting angry. We could always come back. And when we do, we’ll bring the family. That lake had Sophia’s name all over it, and I heard there’s a huge playground around here somewhere. Maybe when he’s older, we’ll send him to summer camp here.
As we were about to leave, a group of people in weird hats started chanting and yelling, protesting something I couldn’t quite make out. I mistakenly asked what was going on, and this woman shoved a pamphlet in my face, saying they were astral pro-jelly-vangelists. Maturity is knowing when to get involved and when to walk away. This was a walk away situation. I grabbed Desi and got us out of there before we got recruited into … whatever that was.
Disappointments, weirdness, and dying aside, today still felt like a win. Nothing could bring me down—not even that spin class.
