Advertisements

Tag Archive: Six Flags


Cyndy and I took granddaughter Kelley to Holiday in the Park on the final Sunday, thanks to comp tickets and parking pass courtesy of Suzanne Mason. When our son, Cameron, and I took Kelley and a friend last year, the only roller coaster we got to ride was the Runaway Mine Train (she was shorter then). And that was not “intense enough” for her. My objective this year was to ride a more intense ride.

We had planned to get there before the park opened at 2 p.m. We got there just as they were opening so we came close. We made our way to the parking lot and settled in line. We started to pass an aisle when I stopped to let the truck waiting come on out. He came out and motioned behind.

“There’s a parking spot down there is what he’s saying,” Cyndy said.

So I turned and, sure enough, there was an empty space. Things were starting on a good note. We knew we had limited time because we planned to be gone before dark, so we headed for the Texas Giant. As we waited in line we listened to televisions with the sound system turned up louder than necessary, playing things no one was paying attention to. You just couldn’t get away from the sound.                                                                                                          

While we talked and joked, I was thinking about the ride we were about to go on. I have never ridden a roller coaster bigger than the Runaway Mine Train, and there is a reason for that. I don’t have a fear of heights, but I do have a healthy respect for the distance to the ground. I have also never found it comfortable to feel as if I might be thrown through the air at any given moment.

Kelley, being young and fearless, had none of my misgivings. She was ready to ride an “intense ride.” I could have just sat it out and waited for them at the end of the ride. I had that choice all the way up to the time we got in the seats. Kelley probably wouldn’t have cared. But I was not about to take anything away from her “intense” experience on the largest roller coaster she had ridden.

I believe Cyndy and Kelley got in the last seat of the last car in the chain. I got into the seat in front of them. No one got in beside me. Which was just as well. We headed out, going up the first upward incline. I looked out over the park and the surrounding area.

As we crept higher, I looked at the tracks and the people in front of me. At the top of the incline, and just before we began our descent, I heard Cyndy say “okay Kelley,” letting her know it was time to throw her arms up and scream – which they did a lot. After the ride, when we got out of the seats and headed for the exit, Cyndy said she thought it was fun, and Kelley said it was “awesome.” I was glad to be back on solid ground.

We had to exit through the gift shop – what else is new? There were employees behind a counter to sell pictures. We told one of them we were in the back car and she pulled it up on the screen. Kelley didn’t want a picture, but the employee gave Cyndy a card so we could buy it online.

Part of me wanted to get the picture. Another part of me didn’t. In it, Cyndy and Kelley are throwing up their hands and screaming. I have my eyes closed as tight as I could get them.

I did it. I went on an “intense” ride with my granddaughter and came out unscathed (albeit with my eyes closed). Which is a good thing. Because I will never do it again.

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

Advertisements

Sanger-Harris Mural

[Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4] The picture is of the mural on the south side of Sanger Harris. There was also one on the west side of the store, but a little different. When the artist – I forget who it was – painted these murals, it was a big freaking deal.  The media came out and took pictures, filmed interviews, and the like.  And not just Dallas media.

And it was interesting. On several occasions I knew of – or was with – people who spent a considerable amount of time staring at the mural transfixed. No doubt it was due to consumption of one substance or another. Although the mural was, indeed, fascinating, they would have been just as transfixed in a donut shop watching the holes go through the donuts – if you catch my drift.

Speaking of substances, transfixation, and the mall, there would be, maybe once or twice a year, a carnival in the parking lot of the mall. I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to find time – and remember – to go take pictures of the carnival they have had there. The carnival there recently was a full scale traveling carnival. Nice, well-kept  rides, fun house, food, the works. Despite what the pictures show, there were people there. Just not where I was taking pictures.

Which is a contrast to the fly by night outfits that used to come through back in the ’70’s and ’80’s. Some of them had, maybe, five to eight rides. None of them were big rides. They might have a little trailer where they served popcorn and drinks. The man in charge was usually fat, big, and smoked cigars. It was like there was a corrupt carnival managers union.

I had friends that worked at the carnivals – usually only once. I was not fond of working around moving metal parts that squeaked and sounded like they could fall apart at a moments notice with tremendous speed. The manager would promise to pay them like $10 an hour -quite a bit back then. He would pay them on Tuesday, the second day, for the first day if not both days. Then he said he would pay them again on Friday.

When Friday came he would say that he had already been to the bank -he paid in cash. He said he would pay them on Sunday with a bonus if they would go ahead and work Saturday. You see it coming, don’t you? My friends would show up on Sunday morning and there would be nothing but a bunch of trash in the parking lot blowing in the breeze.

Sometimes things change for the better. I was tempted to visit the carnival, but I was short on time. That, and I don’t do rides – except maybe, the Log Ride and the Runaway Mine Train at Six Flags. However, standing there watching the carnival, for a while I was back there as a teenager. Sauntering through rides and bright lights, watching the girls that were wandering through. Having nothing else to do or any better place to go. Maybe Papa’s Pizza on Northwest Highway for a pitcher of beer.

Then I sighed, got back in the car, and drove back home to one of the girls I watched back then. I guess change is relative, huh?

Peace be with you.

 

%d bloggers like this: