Dan Henry Didn't Say It'd Be Like This

Five miles per hour. That was the wind speed forecast for today.

I've lived in the Midwest my whole life, I don't know why I'd ever make a decision based on what Katie Horner said. But I let that crafty wench seduce me into thinking it'd be a good day to take the rockets out to Shawnee Mission Park.




The winds were not five miles an hour, they were more like 10 gusting to 15. Lee was even out with his fancy digital wind meter, and the best news he had most of the time was 8 mph. It was so windy, in fact, that when I was preparing to launch Stubby, the rocket and launch rod blew over. This happened last Sunday with Thor's Candycane but after I had pushed the ignition button (and before the rocket cleared the rod).

Rocket geeks have terms for the various mishaps that can befall a model rocket: Lawn Dart (no ejection of the nose cone resulting in, well, a lawn dart), Core Sample (like a lawn dart without the nose cone), CATO (catastrophic anomaly, i.e. motor blows up), and so on. Thor's Candycane last week was a new one on me: the Worm Burner.



The girls were less than thrilled with my plan to fly rockets. Since the wind was pretty good for kits, we got the airfoil out (we need to name it, more on that later). But Em bored of the kite and put it away. Mo did a bit of dashing about the meadow but mainly sat by the range box worrying a role of crepe paper streamer into little pieces and depositing them in the rocket box. At three rolls for a buck, I figured I could affored a wasted role of crepe if that kept her contented, but she wasn't exactly getting into the act this week.



She did push the launch button a few times, pushed it in the middle of the countdown on Great Pumpkin Rides Again. This'll be his last flight: I needed to build a new bottom half for him because of some hard landings and harder motor extractions, but this time he busted a fin off. So be on the look out for the Return of the Son of Great Pumpkin (coming to a rocket meadow near me).



The kite people were out in force, and one of them had the neatest kite. I inquired as we were leaving, where I could get one. I expected him to say the name of a hobby store and 'for just $120.'



A few weeks ago at Moon Marble, I saw a box kite that looked really neat, but it was $45. Too rich for my blood.

My $10 Wal-Mart airfoil has been a delightful surprise, sturdy and easy to fly. So imagine my shock when I heard the kite had come from Burlington Coat Factory for $7.



Seven bucks? For real? How is that possible?

I went straight there (much to my offspring's chagrin). The kits were exactly where I was told they'd be, against the wall past the checkout. They had several, the seven foot crayon job, a six foot butterfly and a couple of smaller 42" kites.

Best seven bucks I've spent since that prostitute in Haiti (kidding, relax).

I made a mistake, though. I let one of the kids in the park hold the guideline for a few seconds. Next thing I know, I'm up to my neck in honyocks who want to fly my kite. And the wind was dying, meaning no one was flying it because it wasn't flying. I compounded my mistake before the wind died by trying to get the airfoil up in the air as well. When there were only three children in the park, this was not a problem, but a half hour later when everyone finished dinner and headed to the park, it got more hectic. Then I noticed how many power lines bordered the park and realized one of my kites with some kid I don't know was flirting with them.




'Stay more to the center of the park, guy,' I called out. I had visions of an electrocution and subsequent turnip-bleeding lawsuit.

Em stayed home (after asking nicely), and Mo could give a shit about the kites. Having used up a set of sidewalk chalk in record time, she was determinedly crawling across the top side of the monkey bars, refusing help but moving forward at a glacial pace.