I was going through some old files while working on my book and of course got distracted by this little gem. I've fixed it up some so the conversation is less irratic than what a normal chat conversation would look like, as well as spelling, punctuation and grammer.

ends at midnight for him and 3am for me.

Him: I'm sure there are pretty places in the states around where you live ..(some of those places are a good 6 or 8 hours drive from my home.
ME: There's the beach, the water's mucky, but we go in anyway. Just for that, I'm going to tell you a story, okay?
Him: okie ..story :)
ME: Once upon a time there were three kiddie parks in this arena of stealth- Frontier Village (putting *** on the map), Happy Hollow (the only one that still exists) & Santa's Village. Anyway, Frontier Village died for the love of mobile homes and apartment condos, Santa's Village was something unknown of it's fall from grace. To this day I still don't know why it shut down. I have no real memories of the place, but I was told I went there as a toddler. Years ago when my brother first started driving, me, him and this girl went to the beach all by ourselves, no grownups, it was fun... The road to the beach winds through a hill, it's a legendary journey called Highway 17. Santa's Village was somewhere along this highway. We would pass by an old coffee shop of the same decor, with boarded up windows and so forth. It had a candy cane type decor, gingerbread, that sort of sweet retreat, but it had always been falling apart and from what we could see passed the trees of the actual park, so was the rest of it. On our way to the beach since we were little we would look over to see the Santa's Village remains, always wondering, never knowing really what it was for sure. So, on our way back from the beach, no grownups taking us this time, I say "Let's go check out Santa's Village" and my brother and friend say "YEAH! WHY DON'T WE?" So, we were treading on facinating territory here. It was a mysterical dream of ours of the unknown that we'd had from childhood: the sacred ruins of Santa's Village on Highway 17. (are you rivetted yet?)
Him: Yep ...i wanna know what's there.
ME: So we slowly drove passed the old coffee shop, which looked much worse on closer inspection. We head into the forlorn parking lot w/ a couple of abandoned busses in the lot. The whole time I set my eyes to scan for any signs that said "No Tresspassing" and there weren't any and I said so. Going slower we reached the gate, where we'd gotten small glimpses of what Santa's Village was, but this time we weren't going 45miles per hour (slightly equivilant of kilometers) There we were, the gate was open, a land of sweet desolation in our mists, our curiousity heavily whetted. My brother turned off the car. Should we walk or drive? Should we stay or go? He thought. We breathed. He said "Nah, let's not." and reached for the ignition.Then these two jogger type people (and I think they had a little dog or something came out and my brother came out to greet them. They told him they had walked around inside coming across no one, so perhaps it was abandoned after all-- completely. So he got back into the car and told us and we drove on in w/ no one the wiser. (sweating yet? biting your nails?)
Him: Definetly.
ME: It was indeed the ruins of any childhood dream. Giant candycanes, psychedelically coloured mushrooms, bright plants of fiction decorated the sparse landscape beneath the pines. I was STUPID for not having a camera. My brother vaguely remembered an Alice Through The Looking Glass exhibit, although there were many signs stating stuff better not be touched or one would get electrically shocked. We found the exhibit and turned off the car. A weathered, giant card of a red suit lay curling on the ground. We looked at the exhibit wanting so badly to go in but not knowing how old those warning signs were. I looked up. It looked as though it wouldn't really matter because there was a beehive inside the roof now. Still we stood in awe of it. I looked acrossed the way where a familiar looking larger version of the buildings were standing to rot with an old car or two stashed in front, obviously in disuse. Looking back now I know why it was familiar, we had a photograph of one of my family members in front of it. It was the concessions- Refreshment type house place. "Hey," one of us said, "there's a truck over there"... no response "Hey there are some people inside..." no real concern.