The day a closed waterpark drowned our twenty-year friendship

Last weekend, my friendship with Elle came to an abrupt and ugly end — all because of a waterpark that happened to be closed for renovations.

We've been best friends since middle school, but life took us in different directions. I'm married now, living in the suburbs outside of Charlotte, while Elle stayed in our small hometown about two hours away. We made it work, though. Every few weekends, one of us would make the drive, and we'd spend the day together like old times.

Before her last visit, I suggested we try something different. "Let's hit up that big waterpark by the mall," I texted her. "They've got lazy rivers, hot tubs, the works. Better than just grabbing coffee and walking around Target again, right?"

She was thrilled. I was thrilled. What could go wrong?

Well. I never actually checked if the place was open. I know, I know — that's on me. But between getting the kids to school, managing the house, and dealing with my husband's impossible work schedule, it honestly slipped my mind. The place was open all summer and through September. Why wouldn't it be open now?

We found out why when we pulled into an empty parking lot and saw the "CLOSED FOR SEASONAL MAINTENANCE" sign.

I was disappointed, sure. But I figured we'd pivot. "There's a really nice rec center pool about ten minutes from here," I offered. "They've got a sauna, a massage therapist on weekends — it's actually pretty relaxing."

That's when Elle lost it.

"Are you kidding me right now?" she shrieked. "I drove TWO HOURS for this! The only reason I even came was for the waterpark! The spa, the hot tubs, the whole experience! I can splash around in some crappy municipal pool back home!"

I just stood there, stunned. It felt like a slap in the face.

So... she didn't come to see me? Her supposed best friend? She came for chlorinated water and a steam room?

I tried to calm her down. I apologized for not checking ahead of time. I explained about the rec center, how it wasn't some "crappy" pool — it was actually really nice. But she was beyond reason at that point.

"I bought a new swimsuit for this! Sixty dollars! And you just — you just ruined everything!" Her voice was getting higher and louder with every word. "If we make plans, we STICK to the plans! You should have checked! This is so typical of you!"

Here's the thing about Elle — she's always been weird about plans. Even back in school, if we said we'd get pizza after cheerleading practice and the pizza place was closed, she'd sulk for the rest of the night. She needs things to go exactly as expected, or she spirals.

Over the years, I learned to work around it. If we agreed on a restaurant, we went to that restaurant — even if there was an hour wait or the service was terrible. If we planned to order Chinese food for a movie night, that's what we ordered. No last-minute switches to Thai or Mexican. It just wasn't worth the drama.

But this? This was next level.

"You are unbelievable!" she screamed, right there in the parking lot. "I wasted my whole Saturday for nothing! You couldn't take five minutes to Google whether this place was open?"

I'll admit — she had a point about checking. But we're both pushing thirty. We're adults. Sometimes plans fall through. Sometimes you have to roll with it. That's just life.

But Elle has apparently never learned that lesson.

The final straw came when she ripped off the scarf she was wearing — a birthday gift I'd given her last year — and threw it in my face. Then she literally spat on the ground and stormed off toward her car.

"Don't bother calling me!" she yelled over her shoulder.

I stood there, holding that scarf, watching my best friend of twenty years drive away over a waterpark.

I tried calling her the next day, thinking maybe she'd cooled off and we could talk like rational human beings. She didn't answer. I left a voicemail. Nothing.

And you know what? I'm done chasing her.

If she ever does reach out, I've got plenty to say. Like how real friends don't throw tantrums in parking lots. How plans are just plans, not blood oaths. How I spent two decades tiptoeing around her weird control issues, and I'm not doing it anymore.

Twenty years of friendship, ended by a "CLOSED" sign.

Maybe it was never really about me at all.