"What the fuck am I doing?" one of my ex-Chronicle colleagues exclaims as the red cart full of visibly shaken people makes its way into the station.There was obvious fear in his eyes. The type of fear that can only be compared to incidents such as not pulling out in time and not wanting kids, or pulling out but then realizing that you already went. And still not wanting kids.
He said something like "I can go on any coaster in the park, but the American Eagle still gives me the fear."
I shouldn't be talking. As we waited in line, a time well-spent trying to scare others and testing the waters of profanity, there was no fear. But once you realize that you are about to careen down a 147 foot (45 meters) tall first drop at a 55-degree angle at speed of up to 66 mph, that familiar "I'm all shook up" feeling comes back.
But let me start earlier.As is usual in my line of work, the weekends tend to have a certain lushness about them. Especially when I'm hanging out with D-Rock.
The last time D-rock and I partied it was on the Fourth of July, hence such a long hiatus on this damned and doomed witless page. I guess you could say it was a bender that has emptied my ability to reason properly and has now come back.
I still wonder if it is possible to drink yourself permanently stupid. They say those brain cells don't come back. I wonder where I'm at.
"Rex Manning?"
Needless to say, we had a handle of Wild Turkey, a case of beer, a dirty dozen of cigarettes in our pockets and a bottle of Parrot Bay rum.
To a typical drinker this is called supply. To doomed creatures of the night like us, that's called the Forth of July weekend.
So we drank it all, much to the constant amazement of D-Rock who still can't figure out how we drink this much.
One word: Commitment.
And problems.
But last weekend wasn't different. After a short trip to what to me is practically church, Binny's Beverage Depot, we settled on a handle of Bushmills.
"It's not like we're going to drink it all," he said. And we got some beer.
So after just doing random shots of the low caliber, and swilling the shit with "I-want-to-drink-good beer-Samuel-Adams," we opted for higher firepower.
"Now is a good time for 'on the rocks,' D-Rock said and I shook my head up and down like a lapdog.
But then madness kicked in, and after a stint watching Bob "Faggot" Saget, and Bill Maher, only God knows what happened.
Then morning came and we went to get breakfast.
Sheila the waitress was there. The Shiela with the two kids Shiela? Yeah. I'm still a classy dude trying to bang career waitresses. Hey she does it for me.
However even the knuckle-bitting horny feeling of seeing Sheila in an apron couldn't overcome the Himalayan hangover I was having.
This was bad. D-Rock said he felt great.
Which is why when we did get to Six Flags Great America in Gurnee, IL, that bitter feeling came over me.
What the FUCK happened to this place?
The last time I was here, which was about 1,654,376,504, bottles of booze or ten years earlier, this place was magical. Almost like Disneyland. To a young, Polish, and inexperienced mind, anything better that Toys R' US must be magic. And there were rides. Big giant rides and Bugs Bunny and Daffy and Batman and funnel cakes and laughs and games and thrills and water rides and old friends that have since died.Not now, however. At least not at the beginning of the trip. This time I saw it differently. What a scummy, practically non-smoking, money grabbing, kid infested, cluster fuck this place has turned out to be.
There they were. The true caricature of America. Spawning like rabbits, only to go to a place where you can buy panties with rabbits on them. All dragging their kids in unison towards fear and fast food. But you can't be a hypocrite. There's a reason people come here. It's supposed to be fun.
However, you can't even curse in line since this is all supposed to be kid friendly. It actually said "No Profanity" on one of the signs before the lines.
So a short well versed litany of profanity later, we waited for like 20 minutes to get beer. And there were like 3 people in front of us. I guess they were brewing Miller Lite in Rosie Donnell's bath tub---but then again that's probably where Miller actually does brew Miller Lite.
"Fascists!" I hollered when it came time to smoke. I just couldn't get it. Micheal Jackson was now playing, people were giving us dirty looks when I told the "What's the difference between normal blood and period blood? "What" "You can't pick up normal blood with a fork" joke.
It was a mess.
So a short well versed litany of profanity later, we waited for like 20 minutes to get beer. And there were like 3 people in front of us. I guess they were brewing Miller Lite in Rosie Donnell's bath tub---but then again that's probably where Miller actually does brew Miller Lite.
"Fascists!" I hollered when it came time to smoke. I just couldn't get it. Micheal Jackson was now playing, people were giving us dirty looks when I told the "What's the difference between normal blood and period blood? "What" "You can't pick up normal blood with a fork" joke.
It was a mess.
But the only salvation WERE the rides. And then the magic came back.
Normally a tale of raging bulls and American eagles ends up on the Discovery channel, but I have to say, my love for coasters came back. To use the cliche like a kid again would be too much, but I definitely did, like D-Rock said, lose the fear of coasters.
Not that I was ever afraid of them, since the last time I was here, I went front row on all the rides, but there was always that element of "When will this be over," type of thing.
Not now. I fucking enjoyed myself.
Oh yeah...and then there was the Eagle.
So the gates open up and my hands star trembling.
"Don't lose it on me now!" D-Rock says as I fumble with the seat belt. Now this is a ride of all the scarier rides the park has to offer and they give you a fucking orange seat belt before they put the metal bar over you. I guess that is what Tyler Durden was talking about when he said "The illusion of safety."
But I maintained. And soon the rickety cart, and I stress the word rickety, began tooling up the incline. My eyes were open, my heart was beating fast and I was already holding on to the almost bare now railing on the way UP. Millions of people have clutched this thing while holding in their shit.
Normally a tale of raging bulls and American eagles ends up on the Discovery channel, but I have to say, my love for coasters came back. To use the cliche like a kid again would be too much, but I definitely did, like D-Rock said, lose the fear of coasters.
Not that I was ever afraid of them, since the last time I was here, I went front row on all the rides, but there was always that element of "When will this be over," type of thing.
Not now. I fucking enjoyed myself.
Oh yeah...and then there was the Eagle.
So the gates open up and my hands star trembling.
"Don't lose it on me now!" D-Rock says as I fumble with the seat belt. Now this is a ride of all the scarier rides the park has to offer and they give you a fucking orange seat belt before they put the metal bar over you. I guess that is what Tyler Durden was talking about when he said "The illusion of safety."
But I maintained. And soon the rickety cart, and I stress the word rickety, began tooling up the incline. My eyes were open, my heart was beating fast and I was already holding on to the almost bare now railing on the way UP. Millions of people have clutched this thing while holding in their shit.
So the cart makes that classic pause before jutting down the track and me and D-Rock both think "Fuck" and he says "This is going to suck" 
And then you go.
And its a feeling you can't describe. Partly because of all the screaming. I let out the most honest fear induced scream as I plunged down that fucking drop.
D-Rock said he felt the coaster leave the track and I wouldn't disagree.
But God bless the irresponsible nature of Great America. Not that because they have wooden coasters because there's nothing wrong with that, but because that after 25 years of hardcore ridership on the American Eagle--a ride that was originally a racing coaster since it had two coasters side by side racing down to the finish line, which of course is not recommended anymore since the coasters crashed when going into the station once--it still operates before it claims one more or two more people before they shut this thing down for good.
So I was glad I rode the classic again.
Now D-Rock and I will probably want to ride something that shoots from 0 to 128 in 3.5 seconds using a hydraulic launch. They have something like that in Jersey.
Jersey. Figures.
But God bless the irresponsible nature of Great America. Not that because they have wooden coasters because there's nothing wrong with that, but because that after 25 years of hardcore ridership on the American Eagle--a ride that was originally a racing coaster since it had two coasters side by side racing down to the finish line, which of course is not recommended anymore since the coasters crashed when going into the station once--it still operates before it claims one more or two more people before they shut this thing down for good.
So I was glad I rode the classic again.
Now D-Rock and I will probably want to ride something that shoots from 0 to 128 in 3.5 seconds using a hydraulic launch. They have something like that in Jersey.
Jersey. Figures.
