Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Six Flags, Once More

     As I spend some time in California, my aunt and uncle took an extra step at being generous. My uncle took me with him to Six Flags. Since I am apparently a selfish teenager, who absorbs funds like a sponge that has been sitting in Death Valley for six millennium, it was only to be me and my uncle that were going to go to the "thrill capital of the world."

     My uncle is an extreme thrill seeker, at least when it comes to roller coasters. When we went to Six Flags last year, he was less than happy with the rate at which I kept up. Last year it was me, my uncle, a couple aunts, and the afore-mentioned attractive aunt's friend. The friend and my uncle sped through the coasters, as the aunts and I slowly persevered through some rides.

     Because this year was to be just me and my adrenaline-junkie uncle, I didn't want to ruin things for him by being slow. I made a pact to keep up with him!

     Goodness gracious.

     We started by going on all the rides that I had previously said I wouldn't go near. My uncle did this intentionally, despite the fact that I had not told him which rides I was intentionally avoiding. 

     The first of the rides we ventured upon was Tatsu. Basically, you're in the Super Man flying position the whole time, being held in place by just the harness. 

     I have to say, like last year, I quickly got over my fear of roller coasters after riding that one. I was more willing to ride them and actually try to enjoy myself.

     Because now I was more concerned with trying to have fun, instead of worrying about not dying, we laughed at quite a few things over the course of the seven hours we were there.
     There was an actual roller coaster called Superman, and my uncle talked me into going on it. Basically, you speed straight up, then come barreling straight back down. I was worried about the height initially, but on the way up, that was the least of my worries. 

     As we sat in the cart, waiting for some kind of countdown or other, the controls manager said in a rushed voice, "Alright folks, due to budget cuts, we don't really have time for a count-"

     I think we went from 0 to 60 in holy-freaking-crap-that's-fast seconds. They had simply started the ride without warning, which I think in the end was a good thing. It's like saying, "on three!" but actually going on two. The extra surprise ended up being awesome.

     As we went up, I couldn't even concentrate enough to focus on the height. The speed alone was enough to completely discombobulate me. My uncle somehow managed to whip out an Ice Breaker candy thing, and we watched it float in zero gravity as we reached the top of the ride. 

     That. Was AWESOME.

     On another ride later in the day, we found ourselves waiting impatiently. That lined seemed to move ten times slower than all the others, the reason being their was only one set of cars (all the other rides had two or three). 

     Once we finally got to the top of the steps in the final waiting area, we could see the controls manager sitting in the corner with her microphone.

     I was tempted to call suicide watch after looking at that girl.

     Her voice through the speakers had all the enthusiasm you would expect from a roller coaster operator (some of them are super excited sounding), but her face. She had this look in her eyes that said if someone pulled out a gun, she would gladly volunteer to go first. I don't think anybody can hate their job more than this girl does. My uncle and I were busting up over her for the whole duration of the ride. 

     I definitely learned my lesson on travelling in small numbers on Monday. Several times throughout the day, we'd be waiting in line, much farther back then I would prefer, and since it was just the two of us, we'd be pulled forward to fill vacancies in front of the larger groups. It was sweet. I think this happened at least nine times. At least.

     I did not exploit my older-looking features on the age guess booth, which was a good thing for my conscience. 

     When it came time for lunch, we just went to one of the many restaurants that were placed around the park. My uncle ordered the chicken club, I the bacon cheeseburger. When they gave us our food, the first item we heard was something of a blur. It game out as this garbled mess, where when translated somewhat coherently came out as, "blrglhrbl fdith bacon." 

     We assumed that it was my order, due to the bacon part. Then when she handed us the second part, we thought the lady had screwed up the order, since she said, "...and here's your bacon cheeseburger."

     Since we had been standing and waiting for that single sandwich for five minutes, we just took it and left to sit.

     I bit into my blrglhrbl fdith bacon, and he bit into his burger thing. As I bit into mine, my tongue was confused. It was expecting a burger, but I got

     "Chicken. This is chicken. With bacon."

     Apparently, the lady DID get our orders right, we just did it wrong. Sigh.

     Alright, morals of these stories.

1. There is an advantage in numbers. Sometimes in small ones, sometimes in large.
2. Listen closely. 
3. Don't be quick to judge.
4. Fear can be fun.

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