Final Leg

After we left Niagara Falls, we drove on into the night and finally stopped at a Bates-like motel in northern Pennsylvania. I made sure to take the pistol into the room with us. The next morning we got on the road, with the hope that we could make it back down to King's Dominion. Unfortunately, rain and an horrific bout of rush hour traffic around Harrisburg, conspired to keep us from our goal. Since we weren't going to make it down to Virginia, we stopped in Baltimore and caught another baseball game, this time between the Orioles and the fearsome Tampa Bay Devil Rays. We sat out in the right field bleachers and were entertained by the drunk guys heckling the Devil Rays right fielder.

After the game we got back in the car, made it down to King's Dominion, and stayed at a hotel next door to the park. We got up and made it over to the park in time for opening, which was the plan because I wanted to make sure that we got on the roller coasters as soon as possible and then got the hell out before the crowds got there.

There's a fine art to riding roller coasters when a park opens. The first rule is that you must run to make sure you get to the head of the lines. Shay runs like a wounded chihuahua but I was able to get us to the front of the line (with an outstanding display of flip-flop running, if I do say so myself) for the newest, baddest roller coaster at the park, VOLCANO. A pimply-faced employee informed all us panting enthusiasts that the ride would be down until noon so I grabbed Shay and ran him over to the Tomb Raider: Free Fall ride. He took one look at the ride, which was a row of seats that swung on a pendulum and spun around rapidly on an additional axis, and announced that he wasn't going on it. I then had to begin a pattern of coercion that I discovered I would have to use on every ride during the day: telling him to come on, yelling at him to come on, calling him a chicken or pussycat, pointing to the little girls who were gleefully getting on, and, finally, yelling some more.

Amusement parks are built for twelve-year- old boys. They're loud, there are garish colors, and the rides beat up anyone who isn't pliable or is over five foot eight. I felt I shouldn't have to force a boy to have fun there, but, if I didn't, we would have just turned around and gotten back in the car. Every single ride was the same thing: "I'm not going on that!"; "Yes, you are!"

Roller coasters are a dime a dozen to me, so I was actually excited to get on the drop ride. It was a three hundred foot tower and the ride consists of sitting in a seat that gets hoisted up to the top before it drops into a free fall for two hundred feet. When we were waiting in line, after the seats had gone up for their plummet, I pointed to the brown stains on the concrete underneath and asked Shay what they were.

"Rust?"

"Nope, blood from the last time the brakes didn't work on this ride...Yeah, I think I read that they've had three or four mechanical failures this year...Talk about a bloodbath...Okay, ready to get on?"

Other than that I had to yell at the boy to keep his eyes open and his hands raised when we were on the roller coasters. When he refused to listen on the wooden roller coaster, since there wasn't a line at the ride, I made him stay put and we rode it again. He kept his eyes open all right; he glared at me with unadulterated hatred in his eyes as he screamed and tried to slap me with his raised hands. Yes. It's hard to be forced to have a good time.

On the last ride, Shay had his pouty look firmly entrenched on his face. As we were being strapped in, I looked at him and said, "You know when we're in the car, you're going to thank me for bringing you here and tell me that you had a good time. Why don't you just let yourself have a good time while you're actually doing this stuff?"

He glared at me some more, but, sure enough, on the walk back to the car he said, "I know it didn't look like it, but I did have fun. Gosh, I wouldn't have gotten on any of the rides if you hadn't made me."

At any rate, we got in the car, and drove the four hundred thirty miles back to Charleston. As the boy is thoroughly sick of me and my tormenting him, he's gone over to his father's house.

Shay, if you get anything from the week of horror with cousin André, remember these, which I tried my damndest to get into your head:

1. Life isn't fair.

2. Be Strong. Overcome fear.

3. Think. Think before you speak. Think before you act.

4. Don't whine. No one cares; they'll just think you're weak. Suck it up.

5. Do for yourself. Children and the weak have people take care of them.

6. Have terrible, hard vacations so that day-to-day life seems easy.