Fright Night

Can't sleep mode. Fuck this mode.

I remember being a lovesick teenager, sprung on my first real boyfriend. My first everything. He was six years older than me and he ripped my heart out and shattered it. Then I picked it up, reassembled it and threw it back in his face. It was not quite like it had been, so the impact barely hurt. Because by then (thanks in part to his antics) I'd become a certified Grade A Bitch.

But before that happened there were early mornings like the one I'm having now.

He would promise to call me, see? When he got home from work, or a basketball game, or some other thing. And I would believe him. And about 75% of the time he would. The other times I would fall asleep waiting. And I'd always wake up at about this time with the sickest feeling in my stomach. A feeling I'd been left for good.

I don't wait up for anyone, anymore. But something about waking up like I did thirty minutes ago makes me feel like I have been.

 But that's impossible, right? Cause waiting up is for pussies.

Last night was a test. My family has a hard time coordinating even the simplest get together. Dinners are a drama. Lunches are lunacy. Brunches are bananas. Movies and other sane person outings are out of the question because we're never on time anywhere all at once.

But for some reason we decided to go to Six Flags to celebrate my little cousin's 18th birthday this year. Wow.

So please picture a ragtag group of people ranging from 18 to 60 spending 45 minutes getting into an amusement park because some people took longer than others getting out of the car and someone else left their ID in a trunk and this person had a hard time getting off of the tram and that person had a hard time getting on it and basically it was just general chaos. A little pod of chaos in an amusement park, which is basically chaotic by design.

The only way they could make amusement parks more disorienting would be if they literally turned them upside down. I mean. Heaven forbid you understand where the fucking exit is at any point of your visit, you might actually come to your senses and leave.

But I digress. Fact is, I actually enjoy amusement parks and other wild good clean fun type shit as long as I can run solo, or close to it. I want to make decisions on the fly, get in and out as quickly as possible and speed walk past large groups of confused and aimlessly wandering people.

Well. Last night I was actually in the confused and aimless category. Me and six of my nearest and dearest.

Okay. So once we'd signed in for season passes (!!!! what the fuck ???? also: awesome) and had our pictures taken (possibly the best photo I've taken in 3 years) I split off with my little cousin and her boyfriend, who is both treetop tall and in possession of some of the bluest eyes I have ever seen. I wanted to get to know the fellow, not just to find out if he has any single older brothers but also because my little cousin is spending way lots of time at his house and is all cupcakey with him in her Facebook profile photo.

He seems alright. But I'm digressing again.

We got in line for some ride called Madusa and I was immediately accosted by a would-be DILF who was actually a DILGFAFM (Dad I'd Like to Get the Fuck Away From Me). Clearly in his cups, he was escorting his teenaged son through the park and lightweight hitting on seventeen year old girls. And also, me. Lucky little me.

Yay.

After a fifteen minute wait we took a 45 second ride that was pretty fun, except that it was freezing fuckin cold and the park was about to close and so it was basically time to leave when we were done. My cuz and her bf were hungry so I decided to roll to the other end of the park to grab them some food and myself a much needed beer. That was at approximately 8:30, which meant that I'd spent the last 3 hours traveling to, getting into and navigating a freezing cold amusement park for a single ride and the honor of being hit on by an old lecher.

But wait. It gets better.

It's Fright Night season at Six Flags, did you know that? And do you know what that means? It means that every five minutes during your evening visit a goddamn zombie will come lurching or running or sliding out of the dark and scare the shit out of you. Yeah. That was really the cherry on top of my Sunday evening. Cause you know how much I love zombies.

But I suppose I wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world. It's definitely going into the scrapbook.

So now I can't sleep cause I have loneliness, dysfunction and zombies on the brain. I suppose that means I'm waiting up for myself.

Whatever. Good morning.