It's Official: I Am An Old Lady

For those of you unfamiliar with Cedar Point, it's an amusement/roller coaster park that is the greatest place on earth for kids, teenagers and thrill seekers. I am none of those things, but since I hadn't been in about 6 or 7 years, I decided it was time to check it out again. This is what I found:

1. I hate wooden roller coasters. This includes the Mean Streak, the Blue Streak and the Mine Ride. Yes, the Mine Ride. We got stuck on the last hill for a few minutes and even rolled back a bit. This equals me never riding it again.

2. I love skeeball.

3. I hate kids and teenagers (okay, not all kids and teenagers, just the bad ones). At the end of the night while standing in line for the Raptor, I got spit on. Some kid or teenager spit out on the crowd from the ride. As P cleaned it off my back, I watched a teenager full on pick his nose in the line ahead of me. I had had enough at that point and we left for the night immediately after the ride.

4. I love keeping up-to-date on the latest white trash fashion trends. This includes peekaboo thongs, airbrushed t-shirts and angel wing tattoos.

5. I hate going to the park with a thrill seeker when there's only one thrill seeker in the group. Do you want to ride the Top Thrill Dragster? No. Millenium Force? No. Magnum? No. Wicked Twister? No. Mantis? No. I felt so bad that telling P no, but I just can't do the big rides anymore. I did ride the Gemini and Iron Dragon with him though, so there.

6. I love the Sky Ride.

7. I hate feeling like I need to be scrubbed with Germ X immediately after leaving the park. This would apply even if didn't get spit on.

8. I love the giant old-fashioned swing. Although this year even that ride almost made me sick.

So, yup, it's official. I'm definitely an old lady. But will I go again? Sure. But it will probably be over Halloweekends so I can at least go to some haunted houses!

Making Others 100% More Awkward Since 1979

I like to think that God blessed me with some special talents in this life.  And you know what?  He did, He just didn't give me any conventional talents.  While it turns out that I can't play the piano a lick, keep a plant alive for longer than a week or speak French after 4 years of classes, I can turn a normal interaction into the most awkward situation in a matter of seconds.  Here's an example of me ending a phone conversation today with a potential work partner:

Him:  "So I should follow-up with you in about a month?"

Me:  "Yes, that will work."

Him:  "Ok, I look forward to talking with you then."

Me:  "Yes, call me.  A month should be good."

Silence.

Me:  "So, call me around then and we might be ready to move forward.  You know, hopefully, if we like it."

Him:  "Ok, I'll be calling you."

Me:  "Ok.  I mean, that should be good.  I don't see why it wouldn't be.  Unless, of course . . . you know, just call."

Him:  "Ok, thanks for your time."

Me:  "Thanks for your time."

Him:  "You, too."

See what I did there?  I totally threw him off.  By the end of the conversation, he was dying for me to end the call.  Just waiting for me to tell him something like "have a great night" or "it was nice talking with you."  He had "you, too" all ready to go.  But instead, he probably hung up the phone, scratched his head and thought:  how did that happen?   

Bet he's counting down the days until he dials my number again.  "So glad you called!  I've been waiting for you to call.  Well, not waiting, you know.  But I was expecting your call, so I was thinking about it . . ."

The Sweetest Thing

Last night while working the fish fry booth at the local festival, I took an order from an older gentleman for three fish sandwiches on wheat bread. I shouted the order back to the fryers and turned back to take the old man's money. He had his $12 in one hand and a covered soup pan in the other.

"Would you mind putting the fish in here?" he asked as he slid the pan over to me on the counter. "My wife just got home from the hospital yesterday and I promised her I would run up here to get her some fish. I want to make sure it's still warm by the time I get home."

"Sure," I said. "We can absolutely do that."

I carried the pan to the back and took off the lid. As I got ready to load the fish, I noticed that he had lined the pan with tin foil and placed a few napkins at the bottom to soak up the grease. I put the fish in, folded the foil over and put the bread on top. Making sure the lid fit tightly, I carried the pan back to the man.

"Will this do?" I asked.

"This will be perfect," he said. "I know she'll like it."

"Well I hope she feels better soon," I said.

He smiled and said "I hope so, too."

It was all so sweet I almost cried right there in the fish booth. The only thing that stopped me was imagining that five minutes earlier the bedridden wife probably shouted exact orders to him regarding the proper packing of fried fish: "Get out the foil!" "Don't forget the napkins!" "Use a pan with a lid!"

Closer to reality? Probably...