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The Highland Swing Hoax

Writing about the Mind Bender episode of my childhood reminds me of another amusement park story--this one of me and my son and our trip to Six Flags a couple years ago.

As a 13 year old, Chase has just started to enjoy roller coasters. When he was 10, he wanted no part of them. This is much like I was at the same age, prior to being broken of my coaster fear by a wayward Mind Bender (see previous post). So while I tried to encourage Chase to give them a try, I wouldn't pressure or force him to ride roller coasters.

This particular summer, we decided to join some friends on a trip to Six Flags, friends who are roller coaster fanatics. The Doolittles consist of four: mom Melinda, dad Jimmy, sister Sydney, brother Connor (Chase's friend who we met them all through). I love them all, and they all love the high-flying fun that 60+ mph brings you on a hot summer day.

My husband could take or leave roller coasters--oh he of bad back--and most decidedly cannot stand 100 degree heat or crowds. Put the two together and it's John's Personal Hell. Which makes going with him my Personal Hell so we agreed this year to both do what we wanted (me to go and him to not go) and both be happy with the other's choice.

So Chase and I tagged along with the roller-coaster-loving Doolittles. Once at Six Flags, we zoomed straight for an area called Gotham City and one of the best rides in the park: Batman. The Batman coaster has passengers sitting below the tracks, hanging from them, as it were. It's the coolest sensation. Chase was having no part of it. And as it turns out, he wouldn't have had any say in the matter because he wasn't tall enough to ride anyway. Which meant that Chase's pal Connor also wasn't tall enough. You could see the dejection written as clearly on Melinda, Jimmy and Sydney's faces as if I'd written it on their foreheads: No Batman for You! I took pity on them: You guys go on, I said. I'll take the boys up to the Highland Swings while you ride Batman.

The three of them scrambled away, racing off to get in line with barely an "Are you sure?" yelled over their shoulders. Positive! I yelled back and steered my twosome toward the swings that were nearby. Chase likes these a lot--nothing to fear here. But Chase and I were tight and he still liked the comfort of me being nearby, so he was thrilled that I was the one taking and riding with them.

While in line, the boys stared up at the swings with each run the ride took. After a few, I thought I'd tease Chase a little and see what his reaction would be if he thought he'd have to brave the swings alone. "Hmmmm, look at those seats," I commented, worry clearly heard in my voice.

"What about them?" Chase asked, looking at them now through narrowed, suspicious eyes.

"I'm not sure I can fit in one of them," I tsked. "You and Connor might be going on this one without me."

Now, I'm a size 10 on any given day of the week and these seats were load tested for much more than I could bring. But I knew Chase wouldn't think that through; I was just trying to bring up a reason I couldn't go. Chase turned worried eyes to the swings, assessing the potential risks and how much greater they'd be for him if I wasn't in a swing five feet away. "I think you'll be alright, mom. You need to ride it with us... Yeah, you definitely need to ride with us. Don't you think it'll be ok? I won't ride if you can't ride..."

Just as I thought--my sweet boy was still a little boy. Didn't want to ride without his ol' mom. Warmed my heart. "Well, maybe it'll be alright," I told him, and as I chuckled to myself, he settled back into the excitement and anticipation of the ride.

A few more rotations and 20 minutes later, it was at last our turn. The gates opened and everyone raced forward, claiming a chain-held swing so they could at least be near others in their group. We were no different. In we charged and Chase grabbed an inside swing, Connor the one in front of him and I took an outside swing positioned between them. We all lifted the bars and took our seats, lowering the bar and hooking the chain. I was watching to be sure they did theirs correctly when Chase turned around to look at me and projected in a voice that was crystal clear and amazingly loud for a 10 year old: "See Mom? I told you that you wouldn't be too fat to fit in a swing!"

OMG. I bet I turned red to the tips of my toes as everyone in the vicinity swung around to take a look at what tub was trying to wedge into a seat and tip the potential weight limit of the ride. "I was just kidding," my voice rang out followed by a forced laughter. Lesson learned, I thought. Tease a 10 year old unnecessarily and you will pay the price.


Swings were fun though. :-)

The Mind Bender Debacle

Once the new year kicks in and the holidays are another 11 months away, I almost immediately begin counting down to summer. While I love the Fall weather best, the only good thing about cold weather is Christmas and our snow skiing trip. After that, I've got no use for the cold. Bring on summer, sand and sun.

In addition to sandy beaches, aqua blue waters, and refreshing frozen fruity drinks in my tanned hands, I also love amusement parks. And the one nearest and dearest to me is Six Flags Over Georgia.



I used to be a frequenter of Six Flags as a child. We lived on the same side of town as the park and my mother worked close by. Oh, and child molestation wasn't nearly as rampant back then apparently (so it seemed), because there were more days than I could count when a friend and I would be dropped off at the front gate with a mere 10 or 12 years to our credit and $5 in our pocket for food and drinks. Snort! Can you imagine? I'm not sure which is more appalling--letting your 10 year old run free in a huge amusement park (surely a molester's hang-out of choice) or thinking that $5 would get you more than a box of cracker jacks, let alone a day's worth of nourishment. But we did it often and I'm still here to tell the tales.

Once my son was old enough to appreciate the chills and thrills of Six Flags, I took him for some amusement ride fun. Not alone of course. My fanny was always in tow. But Chase proved to be like me in my younger years: not a fan of roller coasters. It took my best elementary school friend Missy Davis taunting and harassing me into riding one that broke me of the fear. Today, I think there are eight roller coasters in the park. Then, there were two: the Scream Machine, a rickety, wooden coaster comprised of rolling, steep hills, and the Mind Bender, a new age coaster on steel tracks with twists, turns, and the mother of all coaster characteristics: the upside down loop.





Count me out.

But Missy wore me down with begging and coercing and at last, I caved (I thought: just this once) and in line we went. One middle seat for me please! I thought, where I could hide my fears between the pony tails and tank tops of the folks in front and behind me. However, once we got to the front, Missy informed me that only the front row would do. I was trapped--how could I make a scene in front of all the hot sweaty folks packed into the no-fan-blowing pavilion? I couldn't. After all, I was a mature 5th grader. (5th grade!) So onto the first row we went and after checking and assessing my safety bar 15 times, the coaster began its herky-jerky, lumbering progression forward and immediately up the steepest hill of them all. With each clank of the chain that advanced our train of terror, I panicked a little more. Missy's reassurances meant nothing to me now--how could she do this to me?!

At the top, we swooped around in a half moon to crest the first of several plummets on the ride, this one immediately into an overhead loop. The terror in my eyes had to be visible from the ground. But before we could begin the treacherous, 60 mph descent, the car came to a sudden, grinding, most unexpected halt...right on the precipice of the mack daddy drop. And there we sat: static in an amusement world where dynamic is the name of the game.

After 15 or 20 minutes, our sky high party was joined by three-piece-suited guys who climbed the circling emergency stairs to investigate what had brought us to a stop. After another 20 or so minutes of quiet debate, they decided (I hope with an engineer's input) that they could push the coaster on down the first hill and the ride would safely carry us through the complete journey. Really? Just how sure were they??? But that's what they did. And made it through, we did, arriving back to the loading pavilion and a wildly cheering crowd.

Now, this could have ended one of two ways--the more obvious and perhaps more likely being that I never set foot on another roller coaster again. But that's not the path I choose. Instead, the 45 minute pause at the crest of the highest hill broke me of my fears and the Mind Bender Debacle actually launched my love affair with roller coasters that continues today.

Me and My Shadow

It was nearly a year ago that I lost my beloved Bailey--the Sheltie I'd gotten as a 6-week old puppy and who'd been my rock as I weathered many of life's storms and my celebration partner for the good times over the last 14 years. It nearly killed me to lose her.

Bailey was the first Sheltie I owned but the second I'd lost--for nine of Bailey's years, I also had Jess, a second Sheltie that I'd adopted at 7 months old. Dogs are pack animals and I believe they are happier with one of their own nearby. I adored them both--as a dog lover, having a couple of my own rounded out my life.

I lost Jess when he was nine: kidney failure. Knowing you're going to lose an animal because they're aging at least lets you prepare. Losing Jess came out of the blue and I cried for a week solid. My son remembers this time as when "you cried so much your face was purple." About six months later, we adopted a then-four year old Teddy the Beagle who was and still is 100 percent my husband's dog. They are inseparable. And for the next five years, I had Bailey and John had Teddy. Along with two cats we adopted, it was a great menagerie. (Poor Chase did wonder when he would have an animal. But animals choose their owners as much as we choose them.) And then I had to let Bailey go in February 2010. For the first time in too many years, I had lost the adjective "dog owner" and it was odd to me. As much as I love dogs, I didn't actually have one anymore. Sure, Teddy resided with us and would settle for my company if John wasn't home. But he isn't my dog.

I didn't want to rush adopting another dog for myself, however. I travel weekly and felt that if I got another dog, with me being gone so often, it would choose John as its owner/master. Not only would that put more responsibility on him, I'd be back at square one anyway. I felt like, when the time was right to adopt another fluff ball and when the right dog came along, I'd just know.

A couple weeks ago, I was on my iPhone and on a whim I downloaded the PetFinder app. Couldn't hurt to just look around, I thought. DJ was the second Sheltie I saw and there was something that drew me to him. I emailed an inquiry. He was nine years old and all I could think was that most folks aren't keen on adopting a dog that advanced in years. Like me, most are thinking how they'll fall in love with the animal and then only have limited time with them. But it was for that reason that I couldn't stop returning and looking at DJ. What life was he leading now if he was with a family who couldn't afford to care properly for him or just didn't want him anymore? After nine years. Dogs have much love to give--I couldn't shake how sad it would be for him to live out his remaining years alone and unwanted.

My first email lead me to Margie, the marvelous rescue gal, and before I knew it, she and I were swapping stories and information--me about my life, family, home; she about DJ, his past, current situation.

A week later, Margie pulled into my driveway with DJ in the front seat. I took one look and loved him instantly. A couple hours of time spent together to ensure he would blend with our family and that our animals would accept him, and he was officially mine.

DJ is a great addition to our home. He's a lady's dog--definitely preferring women to men--but he does like John as well...as his second choice. LOL He has certainly chosen to be my dog. In fact, he is my shadow--if I go from my office to the kitchen for coffee, he comes along. Upstairs to grab something quick, he's bounding the stairs with me. TV time or reading at night, he's laying beside me, content to simply be near. And working now, he's lying at my feet. I'm thrilled for me and thrilled for him because, whatever his history, I know the rest of his life will be a luxurious one filled with treats, fireside naps, a Beagle companion, and lots of love and attention.

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Check him out--outside by a fire pit, DJ had enough of lying by my feet and decided he needed to be in my lap. Up into the camp chair he jumped. It was precarious in that less-than-sturdy chair but he made it work.