Worlds of Fun (Again)

Em went to the Lion King yesterday. This was a ticket bought along with a bunch of her cousins by a Grandma who figured initially that Mo wouldn't be able to sit still for a musical. When I said actually she probably could, all the reasonably priced tickets were sold out.



So to keep Mo from feeling left out, she popped for a day with Daddy at Worlds of Fun. And hey, the Lion King is a great musical but you'd have to be brain damaged to not prefer roller coasters on a beautiful October day with a high temperature in the 70s.



So that's what we did. I'd printed out E-Tickets because it saves you five bucks (I know I wasn't ultimately paying, but I'm pretty sure my Stepmother would miss the ten bucks more than the Hunts). And this was a fateful decision in a way, because I was tempted to burn the tickets when we got in the car to leave for church. Or maybe take her out to the park but make her watch me burn it down.

I reached for my sunglasses and found only part of them.



The night before, I was trying to extricate myself from a conversation at the Purple Park with a meth addict. He's actually a decent enough guy, a family man who had been clean for two years but 'met someone' the night before. Our usual rapport is such that once I got Mo in the car, I could expect to just get in and start it up, head for home.





But the 'go fast' was making this guy think of one more thing he had on his addled mind to an infinite level.



I saw Mo getting into stuff in the front seat and figured it was soda-sharking and maybe rummaging for chewing gum. Turns out, what she had done in the boredom was to shred my Oakley sunglasses. These are a prescription pair I've had for six or seven years. Back in the day, I worked for a then-great employer with a generous vision plan. They were $192, as I recall, but I was reimbursed for nearly all of that price. My prescription has changed some, but not much, and it was a great comfort to be able to fight the glare with kickass sunglasses that also corrected my astigmatism.



I'm not restricted, I can drive with nothing, but I can't read street signs quite as soon. And you get used to actually seeing.

What was left in the sunglasses case was the frame and lenses. The ear-wings were MIA. When I asked Mo where they were, she pointed at the place the set belt shoulder harness comes out of the car wall.



I don't know if the glasses could be repaired if I find a way to get at those parts or not. Looking at what used to be hinges, I doubt it.



So anyway, at the moment I discovered that, I lost my rag in a big way. And the frustrating thing with autism, you can scream but you don't seem to be getting anywhere. Mo continued to sing the same song over and over as I ranted and raged. Which fueled my ranting and raging.



But I decided it would be an idiot move to spend my Stepmom's money on tickets and burn them. So instead I took other things Mo asks for away. No 'Silly Rogers' in the car, and every time she asked (it's what she calls the Jolly Rogers), I said, Nope, you ruined Daddy's sunglasses, the Jolly/Silly Rogers aren't happening. When she'd ask for gloves (she likes playing with the nitrile gloves I keep around for working with epoxy), I said, 'Nope, you ruined Daddy's sunglasses, so no gloves.'



So when we get to the park, we rode the Spinning Dragon and the Patriot and headed to the Timberwolf. But the Thunderhawk was beckoning. I'd never ridden it. Last time we ran out of time, the time before that I ran out of back un-pain on the Timberwolf and decided against aggravating things further.



While we waited, a girl in the front row, a girl I'd guess was 16 or so, calmly blew white chunks down her front right when the ride came to an end. So me and Mo went and rode the Timberwolf while they cleaned the Thunderhawk.

We went to finally get on the Thunderhawk and Mo started ticking in a bad way. She kept trying to switch seats while they tried to get more and more people in on our row. I warned her and finally took her off the ride.

'I want some ice cream, please!' she said.

No, I said. You're in trouble right now because you're not listening and following instructions. You don't get ice cream for that. You don't get any more warnings. If I have to tell you again, it's over, we go to the white car and there's no more Worlds of Fun.

She didn't seem to register this, but I repeated that she was on her last chance as we got in line again for the Thunderhawk.



Then, a couple hours later, I realized I hadn't had to ask her twice about anything after that little meltdown. So I had gotten through.

I saw the footings for the new coaster they're building, The Prowler. It appears it'll be a wooden job. I just hope that doesn't mean this is the last year for the Timberwolf. It's a brutal coaster but that's why I love it. Ride up front, you'll have to wait a couple extra turns for it, but you get to have a real live near life experience as it seems to be about to derail a few times.

I'd never ridden the Thunderhawk, and my collar bones are questioning the wisdom of this ride. Since I went to my 20-year high school reunion this weekend and found parallels to Jurassic Park, I guess it stands to reason.



The other ride I hadn't done before was the Cyclone. I think I've walked past the barn-like building it's in a couple of times without realizing there was a ride inside.



It's kind of a tilt-a-whirl, but you sit in it. And it starts by spinning, then undulating, then turning nearly perpendicular to the ground. The good news, it's indoors and a great way to cool off. We had perfect weather, but still, I was perspiring pretty heavily due to my considerably layers of blubber by the time we got there.

The bad news? I wonder if I cracked a rib between my weight and Mo's weight against my weight pushing my right-side ribs against some pretty unforgiving fiberglass. Just when I'd think the ride couldn't get any more furious, it would.

Fortunately I had a chiropractic appointment and massage this evening to mitigate the damage. How elderly am I?



I confess I got busted, too. I took a picture and some video on the Mamba last time without realizing this was an offense that could get you ejected from the park. Luckily, I didn't get caught. And this time, I didn't try such a stunt. Until the end of the day, when we were pretty much on our last ride. The second time on Spinning Dragon, I thought I'd see what sort of bizarre still shots I could get. I didn't see any signs that they were actually prohibited, but the ride carries the same thrill rating as the Mamba, so it stood to reason.



As the chain started the car up the hill, I got my camera out. I had the strap around my wrist, no danger it'd fly free of me or anything. And the car stopped. And the kid running the ride said over the loudspeakers, 'Put the camera away, sir.'



Okay. Sorry, man. They didn't kick me out of the park, but I did notice as we got off that there were icons on the floor of the car saying that not only could I not take pictures from the ride but I also couldn't dangle my car keys overhead.