My parents were both going to Vinny's Garden Center that particular Saturday, which meant that my nine year old self was going to have to forgo playing outside with friends all day and instead tag along while mom and dad checked out plants. I was indignant. 
 
"You know they're going to have dinosaurs there," my mom informed me. Either she didn't want an argument or she genuinely thought I was about to have the time of my life and either way, I was not only done arguing, but I couldn't get in the car fast enough. 
 
I fucking LOVED dinosaurs. I. LOVED. DINOSAURS.
 
The entire car ride over there couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes, but it felt like hours, all I could think about were the dinosaurs... I had the whole thing that I was absolutely certain I was about to experience, come alive in my head with vivid detail. There were going to be dinosaurs and not just any dinosaurs but lifelike, museum quality dinosaurs created to scale. I had ruled out animatronics because I thought they'd look far too hokey for a temporary set up (these were my actual thoughts) and Vinny's, I just knew wouldn't settle for hokey. Therefore I was convinced they'd go for plain old stationary, yet top notch quality replicas.
 
There would be a small flock of pterdactyls hung gracefully above the garden gnome display, careful attention would be paid to make sure that their wire cables were barely visible and therefore more believable of flight. I envisioned a triceratops peeking out over the tables of veggie seedlings in their black plastic trays, a raptor watching over everyone through a small forest of potted ficus trees.... The whole scene was unfurling deliciously in my nine year old brain.
 
When we finally got to Vinny's I could barely make it out of the car without tuck and rolling into the parking lot. I couldn't unbuckle and jump out fast enough. Where were the dinosaurs? I had to see them! 
 
And then?
 
Then I see this asshole standing in the parking lot holding four packs of off brand crayons and coloring sheets with his stupid face on them. I distinctly remember saying, "You have gotta be kidding me." But no... no one was kidding. 
 
I left that day with a pack of crayons, his coloring page, and the hope that no one in my class had happened to drive by with their parents and see me in the parking lot with this prehistoric joke.