Join Me & We Shall Rule This Theme Park As Father & Sons

I love roller coasters. While normally introverted, if I’m seated next to a perfect stranger on a roller coaster, I will turn to them and shout “WHOOOOO!” and feel absolutely no embarrassment over it. If that person wasn’t as excited as I was, they had no business being on a roller coaster in the first place. So, when I received an envelope in the mail from Six Flags the other day and found preprinted season passes for myself and my family inside, my heart instantly started racing.

With the park only an hour and a half to two hours away and opening April 24th, I began planning which days I could go there this summer. Do the boys have any random Mondays or Fridays off? Maybe I could go then. How late are they open on which days? Maybe I could go and ride for an hour or two. The hour or so before closing is the best because most people have left to beat the rush out of the parking lot or to see the character parade. I could squeeze a few coasters in to get my fix and head back home. I better print out a copy of the map and plot out the best route to take through the park, hitting the rides I like first and most often.

In my obsessive frenzy, I forgot an important detail. My wife and sons will not ride roller coasters with me. My hopes came crashing violently back to Earth in the manner my wife is terrified she will if she sets foot on a roller coaster.

I still plan to renew the passes. After all, we had fun last year. My boys like the smaller rides and some of them can be fun. I may have a problem fitting in most of them, but at least my wife will go on those even though they aren’t her favorite. I even took the boys by myself once or twice last summer. It’s still worth it, I thought to myself. I sat on this feeling for a few days. I let it rest like the inactive passes upon my desktop.

Then, my five-year-old wandered up to the makeshift measuring tape on the convenience store doorway meant to help frightened cashiers assign an accurate number to the height of the man that just robbed them.

“How tall am I?” he asked.

“Just over 48 inches,” I said.

I think I blacked out then, because the next thing I remembered was being at home in front of the computer, looking up height restrictions on the roller coasters. The voice in the back of my head spoke up suddenly.

“The time is right.” This voice sounds a lot like Emperor Palpatine, which would make one think I wouldn’t want to listen, but I can’t seem to help myself.

And so my scheme begins. Somehow, I must convince my sons within the next month or two that they want to ride roller coasters. I know that if they both want to go on, my wife will, most likely, agree to ride as well. If she doesn’t, they can ride with one another and I can sit directly behind them next to some stranger who has no idea they are about to get a “WHOOOOO!” in their face within the coming minutes.

Or is this thinking flawed? If my wife still refuses to ride, one of them may be tempted to wait with mommy. Then, if one of them waits, the other will surely be tempted not to ride. That leaves me by myself and, while I have no problem indulging the occasional bought of selfishness, I’m not going to an amusement park with my family just to have them wait around for me to get off rides all day. The boys must be convinced. Anything less is unacceptable.

But how shall I carry out my evil, er, I mean, maniacal, wait, wait, I meant to say…master? Yes, master plan. How shall I carry out my master plan? Subliminal messages? Perhaps I shall ever so tactfully inject roller coasters and the positive aspects of them into every discussion.

“Do we need anything else from the store?”

“We need butter.”

“That reminds me, aren’t you excited to go to Six Flags and ride some roller coasters this summer?”

“…”

“What? You saying butter made me think of roller coasters for some reason. Maybe because they’re awesome, just like butter.”

We could invite other family members to join us. It would have to be a family member who is prescreened to love roller coasters and who the boys think is cool. Seeing that person on the ride would have to make them associate it with coolness.

That should work nicely for starters. But there needs to be more. I need some kind of subtle, nurturing, parental way to convince them to want to go on the roller coasters on their own without rushing them. Let it be their decision. Let them be in control.

I’ve got it! Bribery.

A new toy for every roller coaster. Just to try it. Then they don’t have to go on that roller coaster ever again if they didn’t like it…unless they want another toy. But that could become expensive. Maybe five coasters would get them a toy.

I can remember my dad doing this with me. I was afraid to go on a ride so he would offer me a reward of some kind. I would be afraid, but I’d go. Afterward, I would realize that my fear was unfounded and I’d happily go on the roller coaster again without any incentive but the thrill.

Of course, his motives were to get me to try something new without being afraid. Mine are to be able to ride roller coasters without guilt. Same thing. This’ll work. It has to.

Initiate phase one.