I love to be right. Even more than that, I love to prove to my ever skeptical children that I'm right. Our trip to the amusement park was a triumph on both fronts.
We arrived at the park and rented Grandma one of those electric scooters, which I thought made a pretty good theme park ride all by itself. I suggested that we all rent scooters and just tear through the park at top speed, which was about 2 mph. But my kids spread out their maps and quickly made a plan of attack in their quest to ride all of the biggest, fastest, and most life-threatening attractions in the park. We could hear the screams of other riders, so I said helpfully, "I think those people are dying," but my children rolled their eyes and headed off for MONTU.
Why don't these rides have names that really describe them? They could be called The Spine Snapper or Heart Attack Track or The 911. But instead, the marketing team for the park gives them exotic names like Shiekra or Montu. What they don't tell us is that these names, in their native tongues, mean things like "The Screaming Death" and "Many Idiots." I tried to explain these things to my children, but they pretended they didn't know me and walked on.
Eventually we came to ride called Gwazi. I'm pretty sure "gwazi" means "If you get on this ride, you've got the intelligence of a senile camel." I suggested we forego Gwazi and take in a nice show on the life span of dung beetles instead. My children walked even faster to the ride entrance. Just outside the entrance was a gift shop selling hats shaped like hot dogs. If a weiner hat isn't a sign of impending danger, I don't know what is.
And then it happened. With my children on board, the ride stopped several hundred feet about the ground and didn't move for four hours.
To be continued....