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My dream park day begins by tackling a dozen oysters within shouting distance of an adult Spikeball Tournament and ends with a 16 ounce prime rib dinner served underneath illegal fireworks. “Dream” is the key word here (with “adult” not far behind), as this surf and turf extravaganza is untenable in any picnic that grounds its blanket in reality.
Why? Oysters and prime rib would get weird at the park. Weird, as in, possibly smellier, perhaps squishier, and certainly worse due to some combination of heat exposure, transportation, and unrealistic packaging requirements.
