Roller coasting and beer drinking

Sometimes I wish I had kids of my own, some young coconspirators whom I could love, laugh with and take on adventures.

Then I visited the Six Flags amusement park. My company gave us free tickets and parking passes, which is the equivalent of a day’ s salary for some of my coworkers. Other companies there had free lunches and T-shirts for their people, but not having to wear a T-shirt for my bosses is not a bad tradeoff for less sway.

Still, some of these folks got a thing called flash pass for the rides from their firms. We wound up buying one for $70 total for three people.

The pass essentially allows you, because you are willing to pay more money, not to have to wait in line. You are a cutter because you have the coin. Instead of standing around for more than an hour, we could walk right up, reserve a spot and spend about 15 minutes to get on certain rides.

I know this isn’t a that new a deal. I guess, like many borderline evil things, Disney started it.

And I am not complaining. It was nice for an afternoon to feel like I was from Naperville. The less time standing in the summer’s worth of sweaty tunnel to the Batman ride the better.

(And how more obvious can it be that Batman and Superman are gay! I mean, in the Batcave they played techno music and it looks like a dungeon. And for Superman, you don’t ride it like you are flying - you are in a doggy-style position, as if you want to sniff an ass in front of you, or ... And that’s not to mention the giant Spider-Man plushy one guy was carrying around on his back as it whispered sweet nothing in his ears.)

But it’s already more than $50 a ticket (unless you have some discount coupon or other) to get into the place. Then, if you don’t want to walk back to your car, it’s $10 for a bag of popcorn and an lemonade. A foot long hot dog was $9.

You need to be an accountant, or married to one, or both, to afford things anymore, especially if you have kids.

The day before the Six Flags trip I went to a Chicago Beer Society picnic, where for $10 I could sample about 20 craft beers, and taste chili, ribs, salsa and desserts entered in a contest.

There even were middle aged white people dancing, which always is amusing.

And the DJ, as if he knew I was there, played BB King’s The Thrill is Gone, which pretty much captures a mood I know all too well this summer for reasons that for now at least remain my own. I relate to the string section, that R & B sadness countering the lyrics about moving on.

A perfect song for the event, because such moments are why the Irish invented beer. Don’t tell me it wasn’t the Irish. If they didn’t they thought about it at least.

Anyway, I’m thinking about joining the group, but am afraid what it might do to my liver. But I met some friendly fat guys who could ski, and ski well, and drink, which inspired me, that if I put my mind to it, and had enough stout in me, I too could glide down a mountain.
And that’s the true beauty of beer.