It's a little known fact that I have a heart condition. Paroxysmal Supraventricular Tachycardia. That just rolls off the tongue doesn't it.
The moral of the super long name is that every once in awhile, something will trigger something else in my heart to make it beat rapidly. Like over 300 beats per minute. Sometimes it takes my body a couple seconds to put things back in order, sometimes a visit to the ER and some expensive drugs is in order.
No matter how you spin it, ever since 4th grade it's prevented me from overdosing on Red Bull and espresso shots, taking illegal recreational drugs and running in excess.
Because you know that's just what I've been dying to do.
It's also kept me far and away from roller coasters. So you can imagine how much fun I am at a place like Disney World.
For my tastes, I greatly enjoying being the purse/camera/sweatshirt holder and parking myself on a bench to watch the fanny packs and fashion faux pas walk by. People watching is a guilty pleasure of mine. But at Disney World a different condition was keeping me on the bench.
In-a-relationshipitis.
The Southern Charmer had placed a ban on all rides that small children and the handicapped couldn't go on. Consulting the park maps, before signing up for the 40 minute wait he'd check to see if the ride was Amy friendly. If it wasn't, the boyfriend ban would be put in place.
It's funny how for 18 years of your life your parents tell you you can't do stuff and you whine and pout. And then your boyfriend does the same thing and you find it endearing.
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