Last Holiday, Superman, and Goliath

Do you sometimes secretly like black comedies? I do. And I'll also admit that I love Queen Latifah and LL Cool J in just about anything.

In fact is there a cooler LL Cool J movie than Deep Blue Sea? (Bioengineered super sharks terrorize a research base). He's a chef and he has a parrot. And he's very, very Christian. Here's just one quote:

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. Because I carry a big stick and I'm the meanest mother f----- in the valley! Two sharks down, Lord! One demon fish to go! Can I get an Amen?

Well, except for the cursing. He was excited. He was about to be eaten by a shark. Anyway, I Netflixed Last Holiday because it had both of them in it. Not a great movie, but a charming movie. So here's our Six Flags trip to Last Holiday quotes!


Georgia Byrd: Next time... we will laugh more, we'll love more; we just won't be so afraid.

Here's something you need to know. I'm actually very afraid of heights. Evidently, so are Sarah, Dawn, Haley, Megan and Matt N. Darwin would say we have developed this fear because it keeps us SAFE. And if we are safe, it is more likely that we will live long enough to reproduce, thus keeping the species moving forward. Now, since I've already reproduced, I think I can step out a little and address these fears. The others--like Sarah and Haley--statistically at least, have a greater chance of reproducing because they don't seem to take unreasonable and unnatural risks--thus extending, theoretically, their lives. And if they live longer, there is more of a chance that they will reproduce. So what does that say about Stephanie, Ellen, and Mary? Just a question. Don't answer it.

Just one aside of many: I think a lot of fear impulse has to be taught. Ask Dawn about her puppies in the pool experience and you will know what I mean.

But the fear of heights isn't the only fear that I have. I also fear VOMITING. I am very susceptible to motion-sickness. So like an idiot I go to Six Flags. To ride rollercoasters armed with nothing but the silly notion that maybe I won't get ill.

Georgia Byrd: You wait and you wait for somethin' big to happen... and then you find out you gon' die.

Well, we all are. Sooner or later. And I'm getting tired of living like I'm going to live forever. Because I'm not. Now, the teenagers in my life, right now, think that they will live forever. All teenagers do, so sometimes they take unacceptable risks and end up paying for it with their lives. When you are an adult this strange way of thinking that you are immortal means something else just as sinister. You don't do things because you think I'll get to that next year. Or in ten years. For 10 years now I've wanted to hike the Appalachian Trail. And I keep saying, I'll do it when I have time. Or next summer. I might not be able to walk in ten years. So I'm going to do a piece this summer. As much as I can afford.

So what does that have to do with rollercoasters? I'll never be able to afford a Ferrari or a Lamborghini so I won't ever feel the thrill of going 0-60 mph in 11 seconds. But I can wait in line and ride the Georgia Cyclone, the Great American Scream Machine, Superman the Ride, and the Goliath. And that's what it means--facing down my fears, my motion sickness, to take just a litte bit more from life. It's there for the asking. Nike said something about this, right?

So with the Georgia Cyclone and the Great American Scream Machine down--thrilling but not at that outer-limits of fear, it was time for Superman: The Ride. Okay. Getting strapped in and watching the floor slide down was one thing. Having my butt hiked in the air as the ride flipped you so that you were horizontal and in the flying position like Clark Kent's alter ego was another. Thank Goodness Travis and Matt H. weren't acting like the big ole baby I was feeling like. The ride started and as we climbed, I thought this is no biggie. And then it went down the first incline and it was on. My heart was beating out of my chest and there was just no time to think of horrible death. I tried to keep my eyes straight and I tried not to scream. We went into a loop and for some reason before getting on this fool deathtrap of a ride I figured that since we were horizontal like real super heroes that the motion sickness would be minimized. Say what? What kind of retarded reasoning is that? I wasn't Superman anymore. I was Mongoloid Man. Stupid Boy riding around on the Vomitron. Good Lord, I felt everything shifting inside of me as we went through the loop--and if you've seen me lately, you know that's a heck of a lot of shifting. I think I actually tasted my gall bladder in my mouth. We roared to the finish and there I was. Hanging with my big ass in the air over blinding reflective metal. Looking at everyone's lost items--their gum, their hair crap, their spit. Their...uh...chunks. And we sat there. Travis and Matt H. seemed cheery enough. I wanted to spew hot gall bladder everywhere. But I didn't. I decided to be miserable for the next two hours. Take it like a man. Mongoloid Man.

Georgia Byrd: I really wanted to meet you. And I shoulda ate that. I shoulda ate all that stuff. Especially that. Shoulda put my foot in that.

When Queen Latifah says that line, she is looking through her Possibilities Book. Looking at all the things that she has taken a picture of over the years that she wanted to do. But never did. Until she finds out she has a brain tumor. Only then does she get to living. We are all like that. Take a minute. What's in your Possiblities Book? Is it chock full of dreamy stuff? Stuff like hers--going to Europe, being a famous chef, meeting and falling in love with the guy of her dreams?

One of the things I felt during the weekend--especially on Saturday--is that through Christ and His blessings you can achieve anything you want. So why dream small? Dream in big hunks. Goliath sized hunks.

After settling my stomach for two hours, it was time. Time to face down one of the largest rollercoasters in North America. Over a 200 foot free fall from the pinnacle. Speeds up to 70 miles per hour. After an interminable wait in the hot sun--replete with a Big Gulp sized snow-coney kind of drink that cost about $18 and was Drano blue and didn't even touch my thirst, we were able to board the Goliath. There was a bunch of us this time. Power in numbers. Harder to chicken out when we were all there--bucking up, being brave.

Another aside: I think sometimes there is a groupthink that happens that isn't any better than thinking on your own. You don't want to lose face in front of the group so you go along with the group. Geez, ask Dawn about the puppies and the pool again. They all walked right off the edge of the pool and would have drowned had Dawn not saved them. Total groupthink. Were we all about to die because none of us had enough individual sense to counteract all of the bravado of our groupthink?

Well, I was going to put my foot in it. I was going to do it even if it meant spending the whole night in the emergency room getting my stomach pumped and begging some East European looking nurse to give me more Vicodan. That is if we didn't fly off the tracks and die tragically, our guts and severed limbs scattered all over I-20. Ha! We had the back car. The very last car of nine cars. Travis, my GA Tech bound son, with all the wisdom of a guy about to die a tragic death, said the last car would be fastest because by the time the whole coaster cleared the first drop the lead car was half way down. What's a few miles per hour when you are racing to your death? There is a moment when you are being hauled up the first drop, almost vertically, when you realize, that you must go through with this. And it will be terrifying. There is NO WAY OUT. At the top, the steady clicking slows and almost stops, for an imperceptible second, before the first car starts the descent. Then the train is pulled behind it and there is NOTHING YOU CAN DO. But stare Death in the face and hope that Death doesn't laugh too much at your screaming like a girl. No offense if you are a girl. But men shouldn't scream like girls. Unless wild dogs are ripping your kidneys out and you are still alive. I, unabashedly, and continuously, screamed like a pig-tailed girl for the entire ride. If I could have caught my breath, I probably would have sobbed. There are zero-gravity drops--which means you come out of your seat. All I could think was that teenagers are running these rides. How do they know if you are properly buckled in or not? They are too worried about their pimples and who is going to be the next bass player for Death Cab for Cutie and what to say to that bitch who smiled at their man. No way did they check my buckle sufficiently. But it was too late. Too late. There are double helix turns. Which means you go around in a spiral. Like a turd going down a toilet, swirling around and around. Without a doubt, the Goliath was the most thrilling, death-defying ride I've ever been on. Tony Bennett sings about leaving his heart in San Francisco. I've got him way beat. I left my heart, my lungs, my bowels and their entire contents at Six Flags.

Whew. Here is a video of the ride. Just an amazing trip. A trip through fear. Conquered fear. I can check it off my Possibilities List.

Georgia Byrd: [on the spa table] I've gotta use the bathroom!

This quote doesn't need any explanation.