We took the kids to Six Flags in Atlanta yesterday. While Tony and Sam stood in long lines to ride the coasters, I took the kids on all the kids' rides. From the airplane ride, Anna (who is notoriously jittery about roller coasters after being finagled into riding one at Silverwood) saw a roller coaster that she said looked like fun. All for that, I took Josh and Anna and we got in line for the mini-roller coaster. I was surprised that Josh might be able to ride it, but the little gate guard told me that anyone could ride it. Right on! We wait about 20 minutes and load into the cars, Josh with me and Anna in the car behind us.
The thing takes off. Although it didn't have any freefalls, it went fast. And was VERY jerky. About halfway through, I look over at Josh and he is hanging on for dear life looking like a deer caught in the headlights and his cheeks plastered against his face and his teeth gritting. I reached over and pulled him into me so he wouldn't bounce around so much and we managed to finish with no tears.
When we got off the ride, Tony and Sam were waiting by the exit doors. The first thing I said was, "I can't believe that was a kid ride!" There was the little measurement sign over to the side (which I didn't see on the way in) and Josh was a couple inches too short to ride the ride. Wha? Don't roller coasters all have theme park Nazis that measure your kids like thirteen times to make sure they are tall enough before you even get on the ride? Didn't the lady tell me anyone could ride? What the...? I was a little upset. But Josh seemed none the worse for wear so I figured he wouldn't be eternally traumatized by the experience. Until we turned to leave and he said:
Josh: That thing almost ripped my head off.
Better start saving for a good therapist.