Lanny Joe and I had an agreement before we took the grandkids to “Fright Night” at Six Flags over Texas last weekend: I’d take them through the haunted houses and he would accompany them on the rides.
The haunted houses were disgusting, grotesque, traumatic, and gut-wrenching. And that was just the admission price. The haunted house wrist bands allowed us to visit all four haunted houses as many times as we wanted. Guess how many times we visited the haunted houses. Three-fourths of ONE. That’s right---we managed to locate an EXIT (Thank you, Jesus!) that was located right after we viewed the platter of “finger” foods at Piggy’s Blood Shed. That was after we saw bloody chunks of meat and blood-red sauce sprayed on the walls. I’m still having nightmares of the 6’7”, 350-pound human pig that wandered the diner with heavy hooves that could have smashed our heads in and a snout that shrieked and salivated at the smell of human blood (I’m glad I hadn’t nicked myself while shaving my legs). The loud snorting was deafening, and I walked with the added weight of cinderblock grandkids coiled around my legs. It’s been a week now and I could say “Oink” to any of the kids and never see them again.
After the close call with the Ferris wheel as a child, I had planned to give Lanny the pleasure of all the rides at Six Flags. I don’t know how I ended up in line for the La Vibora (The Viper). Before I knew what was happening, I was being lowered into a half-pipe trough and told to hang on tightly. In my heart of hearts, I knew I’d never see my family or my dog ever, ever again. Little did I know that I was going on a 1,500-foot winding journey that would jerk me eight ways of Sunday. It was an UN-cushioned, non-geezer-friendly steel bobsled roller coaster that proved to be the longest 90-seconds of life. I wasn’t on a track; instead, I was inside a chute. I’ll bet I said “chute” more than a few times on that snake-in-Spain death cylinder.
The first time I was slammed against the metal side, I realized that the left slab of my face hadn’t left the starting gate with the rest of me. In fact, most of me had been yanked away from my face, and it didn’t spring back until I had been sitting at the finish line for a few seconds. Then, here it came---SLAP! My rosy cheek was back in place on the side of my head.
You’re probably wondering if I said a prayer and promised things before I began that ride. Sure I did.
But being good wasn’t one of them.