No riding dinosaurs sign

Frequently Asked Questions

How long does the event take to go through?

Jurassic Quest is a self-guided experience featuring more true-to-life size dinosaurs than any other touring dinosaur event, as well as dinosaur rides and a ton of activities! We recommend planning 1-2 hours to experience everything at your preferred pace.

What is included with a Kids Unlimited Ticket?

The Kids Unlimited Ticket includes standard admission, plus unlimited turns on activities and rides like our custom dinosaur-themed inflatable attractions, stationary and walking dinosaur rides, fossil digs, and more, without having to pay as you go. The Kids Unlimited ticket is the best value for children.

Note: the largest attractions have a 36” height requirement. All rides and inflatable attractions have a maximum weight limit of 140 lbs. Socks are required for inflatables.

What is included with the Kids Standard Ticket?

Children can explore all of the dinosaurs, participate in arts and crafts, interact with a baby dinosaur, and enjoy the walking dinosaur show. Additional rides and activities require activity tickets that are available for purchase at the "Upgrades & Tickets" booth inside the event for $6 each. If your child would like to do more than one activity, you can upgrade to the Kids Unlimited Ticket at the "Upgrades & Tickets" booth inside the event.

Are there any added expenses?

A Kids Standard Ticket comes with the option to purchase rides, inflatables entry, and other activities. Guests may also choose to upgrade to the Kids Unlimited Ticket on-site. We recommend the Kids Unlimited Ticket, which allows kids to ride, bounce, dig, learn, and play as much as they want! 

We also offer multiple retail locations to purchase souvenirs.

How much are activity tickets?

Activity tickets are $6 each and are necessary with a Kids Standard Ticket or for children under 2 years old who want to experience paid activities. Activity tickets are required for rides, inflatables, and more. Kids Unlimited Ticketholders do not need activity tickets and can take as many turns as they want at activities and rides.

Can a child under 2 do the activities?

General admission for children under 2 years old is free, and your child is welcome to explore the dino exhibit, enjoy the interactive baby dinosaur show, the walking dinosaur show, and more. 

Participation in additional activities on site requires an activity tickets from our "Tickets for Activities" booth inside the event. Each activity ticket is $6 and may be redeemed for one ride or activity. 

For your child's safety, the two largest stationary dinosaur rides and the largest dino bounce house have a minimum height requirement of 36". There are several other stationary dino rides, as well as walking dino rides and bounce houses that smaller children can enjoy, as well as the “Triceratots” soft play area for children under age 3.  The giant fossil dig is a paid activity that is suitable for young children.

What are the rides like?

We have stationary Dinosaur rides and walking Dinosaur rides. Our stationary Dinosaur rides are our largest dinosaur rides – they are animatronic and move in place. Our walking Dinosaur rides are smaller and move forward slowly.

Are there Adult Unlimited Tickets?

We do not offer Unlimited Tickets for adults due to weight restrictions on the dinosaur rides and inflatables. Adults choose the Adult Ticket, which is a general admission ticket for access to dino viewing and dino shows and allows you to accompany your child to activities and rides.

When is the best time to attend?

Our events tend to be less crowded on Fridays and late afternoon or early evening on Saturdays and Sundays.

Can we buy tickets at the door?

Absolutely! Please note that weekend morning and afternoon time slots often sell out. We strongly recommend securing tickets in advance. Our events tend to be less crowded on Fridays or late afternoon/early evening on Saturday and Sunday; those times are your best bet for buying tickets at the door.  On site sales are subject to availability and cannot be guaranteed. Ticket prices are the same online and at the door on the day of the event. Ticket prices subject to applicable taxes and fees both online and on site. Prices are based on demand and subject to change.

Can I buy tickets even if the time slot is sold out?

Walk up tickets are subject to availability for the next available timeslot. In order to ensure your desired timed entry slot, we recommend purchasing tickets in advance online.

Who can use a “Kids Ticket”?

Kids Standard Tickets and Kids Unlimited Tickets are for children ages 2-10. Children UNDER the age of 2 receive free admission, but willl need activity tickets to participate in ticketed offerings once inside. Children under the age of 3 may enjoy our free “Triceratots” soft play area (must wear socks). 

Note: the largest attractions have a 36” height requirement. All rides and inflatable attractions have a maximum weight limit of 140 lbs. Socks are required for inflatables.

What else should we bring?

Socks are required for participation with inflatables and our “Tricetatots” soft play area. Socks can be purchased for $1 at the “Upgrades & Tickets” booth.

What are the height and weight requirements for the rides and inflatables?

The largest stationary dinosaur rides and the largest inflatable attractions have a minimum height requirement of 36". All rides and inflatable attractions have a maximum weight limit of 140 lbs, and maximum age limit of 10 years old

There are several other stationary dinosaur rides, as well as walking dinosaur rides and inflatable attractions, that smaller children can do. There is also the dedicated “Triceratots Area” with soft play equipment, sit-upon dinos and toddler bounce house for children under 3. 

When are my tickets valid?

You choose which day and time you would like to attend Jurassic Quest when purchasing online. Tickets are good only for the day and entry time selected. Doors close one hour prior to the end of the event.

What is the JQ Ticket Guarantee?

Purchase your tickets with confidence! The JQ Ticket Guarantee protects you if your Jurassic Quest event is cancelled for any reason by automatically refunding 100% of the full ticket purchase amount to the card on file from your original purchase. The guarantee exclusively applies to show cancellations and does not cover any other reasons why you may not be able to attend the event or requests to change the date or time of your visit.

What if I am running late to my time slot?

We know delays sometimes happen, so please check in at the Jurassic Quest walk up box office (on-site) and they can help you exchange your tickets into the next available time slot.

Can we leave and come back on the same day?

You may not leave and re-enter the event.

Are the events indoors?

Jurassic Quest events are usually held indoors. In some cases, there may be activities set up outside under tents.

Can I get a refund if I purchase tickets online and am unable to attend the event?

All ticket sales are final unless the event has been canceled.

Do you have a schedule for future events?

All of our event locations are listed on our website. You can check our schedule on the “Upcoming Events” page or sign up with your zip code to be notified of future dates near you, and stay tuned through our website and Facebook since we announce dates as we go!

Does it cost to park?

Some venues charge for parking while others do not. Contact the venue directly to determine if they are charging for parking.

Do tickets cost more online?

Ticket prices are the same online and at the door on the day of the event. Ticket prices subject to applicable taxes and fees both online and on site. Prices are based on demand and subject to change.

Are cameras or video recording permitted?

Yes, and we’d love to see your rawr-some moments! Share your dino memories with us using @jurassicquest #jurassicquest

Can I use my credit card throughout the event?

Yes.

Who can use the Police/Military discount?

Active duty police officers, firefighters, paramedics and active and retired military personnel including veterans; and their spouses and children. An ID must be presented at the event.

Is the event wheelchair accessible? Do you rent them?

We are a handicap accessible event. Please contact the venue to see if rentals are available.

Are service dogs allowed?

Yes.

What’s included in a Quest Merchandise Pack?

Quest Merchandise Packs are a great way to extend your quest! Buy in advance and you’ll receive several different levels of SURPRISE souvenirs, crafts and activities. Quest Packs will be distributed at the event when you scan your ticket.

Will there be additional merchandise and souvenirs available on-site?

Yes, additional souvenirs will be available for purchase on-site via cash or card.

I won free tickets! Where do I get my tickets?

Either the prize-providing partner will have your free tickets, or they will coordinate with us to have your name at will call. Please check with the prize provider first before coming to the event.

I don't have a printer, can I show my tickets from my phone or tablet?

Yes, you can show the QR code right from your phone or tablet. You can also give your name and email address at the door, and we can look you up.

Are there vendors with food available?

Concessions may be available through the venue. Please visit the venue website for concession information.

Can we bring food into the exhibit?

Please visit the venue website for concession information. Many venues have a policy against outside food and drinks. Some venues provide food for purchase. Please visit the venue website for concession information.

Riding Dinosaurs with Boys – F(r)iction

When I made my avatar in Ark: Survival Evolved, I gave myself large breasts, full hips, and generous muscle mass, blessing myself with the physique of a voluptuous Olympic weightlifter. My hair was black and my eyes purple. My boyfriend, Monty, created an orange-haired goblin man. We awoke on the beach wearing rags. Dodo birds and Parasaurolophus grazed on shrubs near the edge of the forest. We gathered stone, thatch, and wood, crafted spears, then stabbed a Dodo to sate our flashing hunger meters. The meat—unseasoned and cooked on a fire in the sand—must’ve been as flavorful as a charred shoe sole, but it made us full, and we leveled up.  

I tamed a Dodo, my first companion. The taming process involved punching it until it was unconscious, then feeding it berries until it was full enough to be my friend. I named her Froppy, after a character from mine and Monty’s favorite anime, My Hero Academia. She waddled by our sides as we walked the shore, gathering thatch for a home, admiring the soaring Pteranodons, the orange sunset saturating my computer screen. I looked at the map, a vast island with an array of biomes: forest, desert, tundra. I’d read online that every type of prehistoric creature inhabited the land. I filled my waterskin, excited to begin exploring—I loved a good adventure story, and in Ark, there’s no written plot. It’s a sandbox game, an open world where you create your own narrative. 

“Froppy Has Died,” appeared on my screen. It was dark, and I couldn’t tell where our house, or even the beach, was located. I crafted a torch, which only gave me a few feet of in-game light. My screen was flashing red. Something, or someone, was killing me.

“Help me. I’m dying,” I said to Monty, sitting at his desk across from me.

“I’m coming,” he said, running toward my character, but he was too late. I’d been shot in the back and fell face down in the sand, the torch flickering in my unresponsive hand. Monty arrived in time to be killed too. We watched as another player looted our inventories, taking our crafting supplies and rare flowers. He hacked our bodies with a metal hatchet, harvesting the meat from our bones. 

We respawned and went through it again—gathering supplies, building a house, taming dinosaurs—only to end up eaten by a wild raptor. It was frustrating, but the game gave me and Monty—whom I’d been with for three years—something to do together besides lying on the couch watching anime, which had been the extent of our romance for the last year. I was about to suggest that we try one more time, but he stood up and took off his headset. “I hate this game,” he said, shutting off his computer. “I’m done.”

I looked at my phone. It was 3 a.m. Four hours had passed since we started. I wondered if I should quit too and join Monty on the couch. It was early morning in the game. The sky was lavender, and golden rays shone through the clouds. It looked like a real sunrise I’d seen on a beach in San Diego, except wyverns were soaring over the ocean, mounted by the highest-level players. 

My life was good. I had a job as a group fitness instructor. I had friends. I was twenty-three and fit and healthy. But Ark gave me the ability to leave my apartment and become an enhanced version of myself: someone who was more athletic and unrestricted by physical limits of the real world. I dove into the ocean and swam along the reef with Ichthyosaurs and Manta rays. And Ark gave me the ability to forget about my day at work, where my class did a bike sprint contest and I placed in the middle when, as the trainer, I should’ve won.

Over the next few days, I played by myself for a couple hours each night until I finally had enough resources to build a better house in the woods. I hunted with my newly-tamed dinosaur, a raptor named Gran Torino. A herd of Gallimimus sprinted by and I trapped one with a bola, then killed and skinned it for hide. Ark appealed to my inner-nerd because, other than a few fantasy creatures (griffins, phoenix, wyverns), the island was inhabited by real prehistoric animals. Their scientific names appeared when you got close enough. I could win a dinosaur-identifying contest thanks to my time spent in Ark.

Another player swooped down on his Argentavis, a giant bird. He jumped off and walked toward me. He was tall and lean, with muscular shoulders and a chiseled jawline. He was level 80 and wearing metal armor. I was level 30 and had just upgraded from rags to beaver hide. I jumped on Gran Torino and turned to flee. 

“Cool raptor name,” he typed. “I love My Hero Academia.”

“Thanks!” I typed, hoping I could become friends with this guy and he could help me out.  

“Is this all you have?” He walked around my small wooden shack.  

“Yes.”

“Ha, no point in raiding you.” He climbed back on his Argentavis.

“Wait,” I typed. “Let me join you.” It felt needy and pathetic, but I’d never accomplish anything if I kept playing alone. I needed someone to share a base with. I needed protection. 

He took a minute to respond, probably considering whether I would be an assistance or a burden.

“Sure,” he typed.

I smiled at my computer screen.

“But I live far. You’ll have to leave Gran Torino behind.”

I took the saddle from my raptor, then shot it and harvested the meat from its body. 

There wasn’t enough room on the Argentavis’ saddle for me, so he scooped me up in the bird’s talons. I was immobilized in its feet—all I could do was swivel my camera around, looking down at the forest, watching the monkeys (Mesopithecus) leap from tree to tree. A T-Rex fought a Brontosaurus, and a pack of Hyaenodons stood near, waiting to feed on the remains of the loser. We flew over a volcano, and I worried that this stranger would just drop me into the lava, leaving me to start all over again. But he held me safely in the bird’s talons until we arrived at his base, a modest two-story stone house in a clearing in the woods. He had a few tamed creatures sitting in a pen: a Baryonyx, a Triceratops, and a griffin. A sign was posted in front of his house: “New base. If you want me to move, just ask. Please don’t take what little I have.” Smart, I thought. Maybe I should’ve tried that.

He called me on Discord, a text and voice-chat app for gaming. 

“Hey,” he said. “We need to gather metal.”

His voice was mellow but masculine, a little scratchy, comforting. 

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll get all the metal I can.”  

He gave me a pick—one he crafted himself—and it was higher quality than all the picks I’d made before. I climbed the ladder onto the roof where his Argentavis sat and named it Dark Shadow, a reference to another character from My Hero Academia who looks like a bird. I hoped he would find it funny. 

I ran toward the mountain, crouching behind trees to hide from Carnotaurus and eating berries for stamina. We were still on a Discord call but neither of us spoke. I wanted us to talk, but I didn’t know what to say. I knew he was an experienced player and I didn’t want to say something that made me seem like a noob. 

“I like the Argy’s name,” he said, laughing.

It was a handsome laugh, not obnoxious or nerdy. I wanted to hear it again.

“What’s your name?” I asked. 

“Shade,” he said.

“Shade?” I repeated, thinking maybe he’d said Shane.

“Yeah, Shade.”

I heard the clink of a soda can on his desk, the crunch of chips in his mouth. I walked back to his base, wondering if his real name was Milton or Herbert, and Shade was just what he called himself.

“Look in the cabinet,” he said. 

Inside was a shotgun, a high-level weapon that I couldn’t build yet.

“That’s for you.” 

“Thanks,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant even though it was the best gift I’d received in a game.  

“I want to move someplace better,” he said.

“Okay, where?”

“I’ll show you. Get on the griffin.” 

I was relieved that Monty was working late. I didn’t want him to see me riding a griffin with another guy. I felt fuzzy inside, watching my character sitting up against him as we flew over a Redwood forest and through a valley of mammoths. We were like Harry and Hermione riding Buckbeak.  

“How often do you play?” I asked him.

“Few hours a night. All day on my days off.”

“Oh,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound judgmental. I couldn’t imagine spending an entire day playing this game. “Where do you work?”

“A factory,” he said. I waited for him to elaborate, or to ask me where I worked, but he didn’t say anything. He steered the griffin down toward a cliffside waterfall.  

“This is it,” he said, climbing up the rocks. “Come check it out.”

I stood beside him and we looked at our new land: rolling hills, weaving streams, mossy logs, a setting inspired by Middle Earth. My character pooped. He laughed and did it too.  

“We’ll always have a fresh water supply. There’s plenty of metal, wood, and animals to farm. Some predators, but we’ll build a metal base. We can even have plumbing.”

“Sounds wonderful,” I said, admiring how meticulous he was. I figured that together we would become the strongest players on the server, but that didn’t seem important anymore. I just wanted to keep playing with him, whether we had a metal castle or nothing at all. 

“Want to fly us back?” he asked. 

“Sure,” I said, sitting up straighter at my desk. 

“Let’s pick up some obsidian before we go home.”

I blushed at the word “home.” I wondered what Shade looked like in real life. Some gamers, like Monty, created avatars with humor: wide-necked, stumpy-legged, stringy-armed monstrosities. Some gamers created avatars they wished they could be. But I—and I hoped Shade too—exaggerated my real physical attributes and applied them to my avatar. (I was athletic, but not Olympic-level, and I was a C-cup, not double-D.) I hoped real-life Shade was also lean and tall with a strong jaw and button nose, though I supposed it didn’t really matter—I could imagine him being as attractive as I wanted.  

We made it back home, our inventories full of meat and obsidian.

“How do I land?” I asked him, awkwardly hovering the griffin next to the house.

“Press spacebar,” he said, laughing. “Anyway, I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, feeling disappointed, even though it was 4am and I needed to sleep too. I’d been at my computer for five hours but my needs for hunger, thirst, and rest had all vanished. Monty unlocked the front door and walked into the living room, smelling like sugar and dough from his overnight job at the bakery. 

I left my desk and showered, smiling as I conditioned my hair, thinking about the adventures Shade and I might have the next night. Monty walked into the bathroom. He lifted the toilet seat and started peeing. For the first time, I jerked the shower curtain open and said, “Couldn’t you have waited?” 

All day, I thought about Shade. I imagined him, the version I’d created for myself: cute, mid-twenties, lean physique, freckly skin, bowl-cut brunette hair. An image of a portly fifty-year-old man momentarily appeared in my mind, but I shooed it away. I envisioned this cute Shade at the factory, pushing buttons on a machine that made dildos or condoms or crayons, blushing because he was thinking of me: the beautiful girl he’d found in the woods, another fan of My Hero Academia, clever and funny with the names she gave dinosaurs, a new light in his life. 

I’d always had the benefit of being both attractive and nerdy—boys easily fell for me, looking down at my long curly hair, my fit physique, and back up to my light brown eyes, all the while talking about Yu-Gi-Oh!, D&D, The Elder Scrolls. Monty and I had met at the gym and played Magic: The Gathering on our first date. I’d wooed him by beating him with my Liliana, the Necromancer deck. But Shade was different because he couldn’t see me in real life. I shuddered, thinking that maybe he had envisioned me as a monstrous nerd girl. But I hoped that when he had heard my voice, he thought it was sultry, and that he was picturing me as a real-life version of my avatar, working at a bar or a hospital or wherever he imagined I worked.  

When I got home from the gym, Monty was sitting on the couch, watching TV and clipping his toenails, dropping the slivers onto our coffee table.  

“Hey,” he said. “Want to watch Full Metal Alchemist?”

The thought of spending time with Monty, whose appearance I knew and voice I heard every day, seemed unbearably boring. Normally, I thought our relationship was nice, secure. But playing Ark with Shade thrilled me—a feeling I’d forgotten and didn’t know I missed. Monty had made me feel that way when we first met, when we’d go out for sushi and talk about our families—how his had immigrated from Sudan and mine from Japan. Afterward, we’d lie in his bed, staring at each other, kissing each other’s skin and eyelids and earlobes. But I’d moved in three months after our first date, and now we just ordered in, often going days without talking or touching.   

“I’m tired,” I said, picking up my laptop. 

“Are you still playing that game?”

“Yeah—maybe,” I said, walking to the bedroom, quickly shutting the door behind me.

I logged on, but Shade was still offline. I went outside, walked around the pond, watching pastel-colored Dimorphodons circling in the air. I waited until two of them hovered near me, then shot them with tranquilizer darts. I thought Shade would be impressed, seeing I’d caught two dinosaurs known for their evasive flight pattern. I fed them raw meat, watching their taming meters increase. I heard Monty chopping vegetables in the kitchen. Part of me felt that I was wasting my time, that I should’ve been spending time with Monty, making an effort to enliven our relationship. But I wanted to woo Shade, to see if I could, to feel the pleasure of hearing him say that he couldn’t stop thinking about me. It’d been a long time since I felt desired, and I thought if I could get Shade to like me, it would make me feel good, even powerful. 

Shade logged in. “Hey,” he typed. “Can I call you?

My heart fluttered, like we were on our first date at the movies and our hands had just touched.

I answered his call. “We have new pets,” I said, and called the Dimorphodons over. 

“Oh, sweet!” he said. He sounded like he was smiling. I waited for him to say something else, hoping he’d say he had looked forward to playing with me all day. 

Instead, he said, “We need silica pearls.” 

“Oh, okay,” I said, googling where to get those.  

I walked down the hill toward the beaver dams, listening to the sound of Shade chopping down trees. I thought of conversation-starters that he would like: What anime character would you be? or What’s your Harry Potter house? or What’s your favorite game in the Fallout series? But I felt like asking those questions might weaken the immersion of the game, that while we were gathering and crafting, we should only talk about our lives in Ark. 

“Where did you live before you had this base in the woods?” I asked, shooting arrows at a giant beaver.  

“I had a nice setup in the mountains, but it was always freezing. Then I got raided.”

I could hear his mouse rapidly clicking.

“Fuck! I’m dying,” he said.

Monty walked into the room. I tilted my laptop screen closer to me.  

“Where are you?” I asked Shade, trying not to sound too concerned. Monty opened the dresser.   

“Near the cave.”

I dropped all my rocks so I could run faster, trying to ignore Monty as he changed into his pajamas. Shade was being mauled by a Therizinosaur, a dinosaur that looked like a giant demonic duck with knives for hands, the Freddy Krueger of Ark. I shot it with an arrow to turn its attention toward me. It charged at me and I waited until it was close enough to shoot it with the shotgun, killing it. 

Shade limped over to me, his chest bleeding. I gave him some of my Dodo jerky.

“Thank you. Nearly died back there. It got the Pteranodon I wanted,” he said, pronouncing it like “Pet-ra-don,” which made me laugh, but then insecurity crept over me as I realized that I didn’t know how to say it correctly either. We walked back to our base, carrying the Therizinosaur loot. 

Monty ambled over and stood beside me, peering over my shoulder. I was outside feeding Dark Shadow. Shade was inside, crafting ammo. I hoped he wouldn’t come outside. I muted my mic, so Shade wouldn’t hear Monty talking and find out I had a boyfriend. Monty leaned closer to the screen. He had to know I was playing with someone, and I worried he was going to ask who it was, or even ask me to stop. Instead, he said, “Your base looks really cool. Maybe I’ll start playing again.”

“I don’t know,” I said, staring down at my keyboard. “I’m level 50 now, and you only got to level four.” I looked up at him. His eyes were big and dark brown, nearly black, one of his many features I’d always found attractive—and they looked even more beautiful when he was sad. “It’s not that fun anyway.”

Every day that week, I exercised vigorously to earn eight hours of sitting in front of my computer. My friends and I usually went to the casino on Thursdays. I cancelled. Monty slept on the couch, so I could have the bedroom to myself.

“I need my space to work on grad school applications,” I said, gesturing at my laptop and the books I’d taken into the room. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, before slamming the door. I stared at the Ark menu, my cursor hovering over the play option, thinking about going after Monty. But I told myself that he would get over it, that he didn’t really know I wasn’t working on applications. And anyway, Shade needed me. I was probably his only friend, his only human connection. I hoped that his curiosity about me would lead him to Instagram, where he’d see that the real-life me was beautiful and fit and popular, and then he’d be even more enamored with me. 

Shade and I successfully built a new house by the waterfall. It was a two-story metal home, with greater interior space than the stone one. We flew our griffin, Argentavis, and Dimorphodons to the new home, abandoning our other dinosaurs that were too slow to make the trek. We worked on building turrets around our territory. We finally had peace and comfort, which made me worry that we were running out of things to do and soon our interest would diminish. I secretly wished some other players would come and raid us. Then we would need to rebuild. 

“Are you happy you let me join you?” I asked him, mixing berries and water to paint our house red.

“Yeah,” he said, yawning. “Probably would’ve quit if I was trying to do all this by myself.”

“Me too,” I said, smitten that I was his reason for playing the game.  

“I have a surprise for you,” he said, leading me to a pen around the corner. There were two wyvern eggs sitting on the ground, protected by a fence, warmed by torches.  

“One’s for you. Our babies,” he said, laughing. “When they hatch, we’ll have to feed them every three hours in real time for two days. Are you free this weekend?”

“Yes,” I said, beaming. “I can’t wait.” I knew Shade cared for me; he wouldn’t have wanted to raise babies with just anyone. I figured that this weekend while tending the eggs, he’d ask to go on a walk by the waterfall, and he’d stand his avatar close to mine and ask if he could tell me something. I’d say yes and listen to him confess his adoration for me.  

I logged in at 11 a.m. Saturday morning, expecting Shade to already be online. He wasn’t. I sat in front of my computer, reading a book, refreshing the game, refreshing Discord every few minutes for an hour. I felt awkward, like I was sitting alone at a restaurant, waiting for my date to show up. As the hours passed and he didn’t login, I figured something must’ve happened in his real life: someone called in sick and he had to go in to the factory; his grandmother died; his apartment burned down. But I was still hurt—if some tragedy had befallen me, I would’ve sent him a message letting him know I couldn’t play.  

I checked the online players log Sunday morning. He wasn’t listed. I refreshed it on my phone all day. He never logged on. When I got home from the gym, I signed into Ark, hoping he’d see me online and would join. He didn’t. I sent him a message on Discord. 

“Hey, what’s going on? Are we going to hatch those eggs?”

“It’ll take too much time,” he typed. 

“Okay, well when are we going to play again?”

“I don’t know. I think I’m done. I’m bored.” 

My chest tightened. I reread the message. I chewed my bottom lip, thinking he must have a girlfriend who’d found out about us and was making him quit. Or in just a moment, he would send another message saying that he was joking, that he could never be bored of me, of the life we’d created together within the game. But as the minutes passed and he said nothing, my skin began to prickle from the grim realization that he had never liked me. I gripped my laptop, unsure of what to do with it anymore. I felt nauseous, thinking of the possibility I wasn’t the seductress I’d thought I was, thinking of the seventy hours I’d lost over these last two weeks for a relationship I’d fantasized. 

My character stood in the living room of our metal house, which now seemed hollow and inhospitable. I ran outside and flew the griffin to the beach. A new player was on the shore, gathering sticks and building a thatch house. I considered asking him to join me, so I could take him back to my base in the hills, give him a rifle, so he would think I was powerful and generous and beautiful, in-game and in real life, so he would think of me all day and look forward to playing with me every night—but it seemed as exciting as it did sickening. I clicked my mouse, killing him and his dodo. I shut my laptop and walked to the living room.

Monty was lying on the couch. I sat beside him, and he placed his hand on my leg. I rested my head against his chest. He put his arm around mine and I wrapped my leg around his. We laid there for hours, glowing in the light of the TV.

TOP 15 most unusual road signs in the world

While abroad, you can see a lot of funny and amazing road signs. Along the roads and highways, depending on the local flora and fauna, warning signs are installed about a likely encounter with sometimes completely mythical animals and more.

Violent moose

On Scandinavian roads there is a sign "aggressive moose", which depicts this animal and a wrecked car. It turns out that local elk are very aggressive, so they can not only suddenly jump out onto the road, but also attack the car.

Watch out, zombies!

In Finland, you can see a road sign that shows a hand sticking out from under the ice. Translated from Finnish, the inscription reads: "be careful on thin ice." True, without knowing Finnish, one would think that zombies would now attack from underground, because something similar has already flashed in horror films.

Beware of migrants

In the southern states of the US, especially those bordering Mexico, you can often meet migrants. So the drivers decided to warn about the possible danger of the sudden appearance of people on the road.

Broken heel

On the way to this cobbled Danish street, there is a warning for women wearing high heels about the possibility of breaking a hairpin. Well, forewarned is forearmed. Further - only barefoot!

Pegasus?

No comments here. Unless the sign says about the possible departure of Pegasus.

Dangerous pigeons

Another interesting sign, which in translation from English says: “Feed the pigeon, lose your finger!”. Most likely, pigeons are not so dangerous, but how else to convince people not to feed the birds.

Kangaroo on the road

The information is clear, in Australia you have to be really careful knowing the nature of the kangaroo.

Watch out, birds!

Unfortunately, it is impossible to control the natural process of life of birds.

Bicycle zone

Judging by this sign, motorists are clearly not welcome on the bridge.

Beware of drunken pedestrians!

Beware of drunken pedestrians crawling across the road. It would be useful to place such signs at roadside bars.

Dinosaurs on the road

This sign warns you to slow down in order not to run into a "dinosaur".

Crocodiles eat disabled people

Crocodiles seem to be the most dangerous for wheelchair users. In any case, the creators of road signs decided so. It is these wide-mouthed reptiles that are depicted on signs warning of the dangerous slope of wheelchair drivers in France.

No diving

With this sign, everything is clear! A breakwater with sharp ledges is installed on the coastline. A very original way to get rid of annoying divers.

Learning to fly!

In such an original way, the road builders marked a dangerous turn.

No hitchhiking

No, this sign does not prohibit social media "likes". It only indicates that it is forbidden to stop the car for hitchhiking on this section of the road.

So the Belarusian roads after such an excursion may seem rather boring!

Photo: from open sources

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