A vomitous day at the Kiddie Amusement Park

My thoughts during a spinning, up-in-the-air ride at the kiddie amusement park today:

Hate the rides that go round and round. Roller coasters are so much better. Speed. Hills. Not this vertigo-inducing endless whirling.

Ugh. Why did I agree to take the preschooler on it a second time?

Oh hell. Here's the part when it rises into the air. Did it go this high last time? Must tighten my arm around Tootie to ensure she doesn't fall out of this damn thing. Wonder when it was built? Wonder how often it's inspected?

Am feeling very dizzy. Why did I eat so much barbecue at lunch? Eek, are we going higher?

Is it normal for this contraption to shudder every five seconds? Oh no, it's going even higher. Feels like it's spinning faster, possibly because our car is about to snap off the cable and send us flying across the park -- yikes! -- there's that shudder again.

An uncertain little voice breaks into my thoughts:

"Mommy? Is this fun?"

"YES! THIS IS FUN, SWEETIE! SO MUCH FUN! I'M HAVING FUN! ARE YOU HAVING FUN? WHEE! SEE? FUN! WE ARE HAVING FUN!"

Oooh. A groaning noise. Was it doing that a minute ago?

I didn't realize this thing went so freaking high. Oh no. Wind.

Should they be operating this in high winds? "They." Ha. "They" is a teenage boy. I have put my preschooler's life in the hands of a teenage boy wearing a cell phone ear piece. And we're on a ride that has been around since the 1950s.

This ride is at least 20 years older than I am.

Why is it taking so long? We've been circling up here for 10 minutes. Where'd that teenager go?

What's he ... whoops, let's wait 'til the next pass. OK, there he is. Oh my God, he is texting on his phone. Dude! Hey, little dude! Get off the freaking phone and stop this ride.

Still texting.

More wind. Eek.

Must not hold daughter in a death grip or she will grow up a fearful child.

Pry the fingernails from her shoulder. Casually rest arm behind her. Surely my reflexes are quick enough to catch her if she starts to topple out.

Maybe not. Resume death grip.

"THIS IS FUN, SWEETIE! SO MUCH FUN! ARE YOU HAVING FUN?"

I am going to vomit.

He's still texting.

Still texting.

Are you there, God? It's me, Cathy, and I really need you to reach down an snatch the evil cell phone from that teenager's text-nimble fingers. But don't injure those fingers in the process. He will need them to MAKE THIS RIDE STOP!

Hey, God? Me again. Kid still has a phone. Could you maybe remind him that there are about 20 puke-ready people circling over his head and that maybe he should return his attention to the ride controls?

Yay! He's pushing buttons!

Oh. With his right hand. He's still texting with the left. Should he be doing that? How can he keep the buttons straight. What if he makes this thing go faster by mistake?

Hey, sonny! Get off the damn phone and pay attention to the control panel. Do it now or I WILL aim my vomit at your head.

There you go. That's right. The RED button. Push it. OK, just push it. GET OFF THE FUCKING PHONE AND PUSH THE RED FUCKING BUTTON BEFORE I DIE UP HERE!


I stagger off the ride feeling as though I just slammed 12 shots of tequila.

"Mommy! E-man was watching us! Now he wants a turn!"