Yes there is a Hell
August 4, 2009 · Leave a Comment
So I don’t believe in a hell, per se. At least not the kind with little demons running around making your death unbearable, and the slow cooking fires over which you roast for eternity, screaming in agony and wondering what in the…hell…you did to deserve this. But silly me, I was wrong! Hell is Six Flags Fiesta Texas in the summertime. I found it, all by accident.
Now don’t take this the wrong way. I am a roller-coaster lover, including any ride that scares the crap out of you while NOT spinning you around in concentric circles and making you upchuck all over the person next to you. Fast rides, terrifying rides, elevator drops, those are all great fun. However, I hate waiting in lines, I dislike most children—especially those that are already hot and cranky and whiny—and being outside in sweltering heat in the middle of the day is not on the top of my fun list. Actually, all of these things combined equal Hell.
Six Flags Fiesta Texas was the first place I rode one of those 4-story drop line rides, the one with three massive poles and a little person dangling up at the top that has to pull the ripcord and fall into space. This was years ago, before I could drive and I was brought along on a San Antonio road trip to visit my uncle. I would like to say that none of my family members would agree to ride this thing with me, though one of my brothers has since grown up to become a paratrooper. Probably out of guilt for leaving me hanging…So it was just me, all by myself pulling the ripcord above people that had very slowly become ants as I was cranked up into the sky. With these fond memories, I was looking forward to going as a grown-up. I guess I just blocked out the reality of the thing and thought, hey, this sounds like a good idea.
No more of this, especially not on a weekend, and definitely not in the summer. I knew I disliked fairs and carnivals for a reason…mostly because carnies have small hands and smell like cabbage.