Too Fat to Ride . . . or Batman, Fat man, Iron . . . Wolf?

In the movie Batman Begins (because all things in life can be related to Batman in some way) Alfred is heard to say to the young Bruce Wayne, "why do we fall down, Master Wayne?"

To which the boy gives a puzzled look. Alfred answers his own question; "so we can pull ourselves back up."

I am learning in life not to be embarrassed or ashamed of failures. They are part of every growth process. Still that is easier to say than to actually believe. But to keep my self fighting, to keep pulling myself back up when I fall, I am trying to get right out in front of my failures. To put 'em right out on Front Street, as they say. So, for anyone who is a Facebook friend of mine who remembers back in January when I declared publicly I was the heaviest I'd ever been and was going to lose 50 lbs in 6 months, I am here to tell you . . . I failed.

At least, I failed in the overall goal. In the first 2 months I lost 25 lbs. Unfortunately I also lost my job. So the bad eating commenced. And then we had our little girl, and there were some (now we know) minor complications, which led to long days in the hospital, broken up by walks to the cafeteria, gift shop, or vending machines. That was also the week I discovered Peanut Butter Snickers. Holy Shit!

So, as to not dwell on where I went wrong or make excuses for the failure, I will simply say I did not make it anywhere near the 50 lb mark. Depending on the day, I'm down between 10 - 15 lbs from where I was when I made that declaration. Now I'm sure some out there would say "down is down" and "you should still be proud of that." And perhaps that's all true, but I'm not proud. I'm disgusted with myself. Especially this week, and there's a reason why. This past week, I officially became "a fat guy."

My wife and two kids went out of town for the weekend. They were spending the weekend at a friend's summer place in Michigan. I would have joined them except I'd agreed to DJ a block party Saturday night some months back and had completely forgotten. So I sent them off and looked forward to a couple days of alone time. Saturday night came and went, and all the while I wondered what I'd do with a whole day of nothing to do. The answer came to me Sunday. Why not go to Great America?

For those that don't know, Great America is our local Six Flags park in the Chicagoland area. I've been going there since I was 6 or 7 so about 30 years. Originally it was Marriott's Great America. Somewhere I believe in the 90's, Six Flags came in and bought the place. Under Marriott it seemed to be very family-oriented. There were always a couple of big thrill roller coasters, but I also recall a great deal of kiddie rides, shows, and Looney Tunes characters roaming freely around the park. I was particularly fond of the live-action Looney Tunes stage shows every summer. One that always stuck with me involved Bugs Bunny introducing the Tasmanian Devil to his long-lost relatives, ala This is Your Life. At one point they brought out this gigantic Himalayan Snow Devil, or something to that effect, that as a kid seemed to tower over the audience. I was sure if that thing broke loose, we were all dead! It never occurred to me it was just a giant costumed prop controlled by puppeteers.

Those types of shows at Great America are gone. As are, it seems, many of the fun kid rides I remember. Especially the Busy Bees and Red Baron style airplanes. I wandered through an area they call Camp Cartoon Network now which was full of Hanna-Barberra themed rides that all needed some real renovation and refurbishment. At the very least, a few coats of paint would help! That "land" and another new area called Kidzopolis aside, Six Flags has kicked up the thrill factor at Great America over the past 20 years. It became a roller coaster park now, plain and simple. As a teenager into my Twenties, that suited me fine. I loved the thrill of speed, climbing heights never meant to be experience by featherless lifeforms, only to plummet down at ludicrous velocity! I still enjoy the sensation to some degree as a slightly older "adult" but I admit now that I'm a parent, that damn logic and sense begins to play havoc with my brain. Even as I found myself locked in to their largest coaster, Raging Bull, a massive steel "hyper twister" coaster, I began to visualize myself somehow flung out of the open-sided ride vehicle as my weight was too much for the restraint system. Or worse, the entire train of cars somehow jumping the steel tracks and off we'd fly like some terrible horror movie to meet a horrible demise in a wreck of blood and metal and cotton candy.

None of that happened of course. As far as I know there were no fatalities that particular day. But I had some reason to suspect at least one of those scenarios. The thing that put a black cloud over my head throughout a mostly sunny August day happened within my first hour at the park.

I arrived at the park, alone. Yes, let's put that right out on Front Street. I was going to spend a day at an amusement park by myself. Before you scoff and condemn me to the land of Loserdom, let me say that I actually enjoy doing things alone. I go to movies alone, museums, purposely tool around the mall by myself. It's nice to experience things without another voice chirping in your ear. It allows you to process things, and sort through other thoughts clogging up your brain. This was also not my first time flying solo in a theme park. I once had to spend a week in Orlando for a convention, and had a free day to do whatever I wanted. It would have been far too much a Sophie's Choice for me to decide between my four beloved Disney parks, and since we were on the other end of town anyway, I opted to hit Universal's Islands of Adventures. I had wanted to ride the Jurassic Park River Adventure since I'd first seen it had opened. I didn't feel like a complete dork that day, nor did I this past weekend. Although had someone asked, I might have used the "in town alone on business" cover story again!

Anyway, I arrived at the park and made straight for the ride that was new since my last visit nearly 5 years ago, The Dark Knight. It was an indoor roller coaster based on the second movie in the Nolanverse of the Batman films. That was such a geeky statement, I should give myself a wedgie. Anyway, that line was clocking in at 60 minutes, so I decided to circle back around and see if it thinned out in the later afternoon. After walking a bit I came upon the next roller coaster, Iron Wolf. Iron Wolf opened when I was, I believe, a sophomore in High School. It was the first "stand up" roller coaster any of us had ever heard of, and I remember that first year waiting well over an hour to ride it. Honestly, it was not quite as mind-blowing as you might have thought. Truth be told you're hardly standing. A harness comes down over you, and you straddle a bicycle seat, which the attendant comes by and jams right up into your wedding tackle as hard as he can. It's definitely the most awkward roller coaster of its kind. But it is still fun. I hadn't ridden it in years and the line was not long at all so I figured alright, let's go for it. Side note: I often refer to myself in the plural. Wonder what my shrink would say . . .

The line moved quickly, I was up the stairs and in the station in less than 15 minutes and boarding my ride vehicle shortly after. I should preface what I'm about to reveal by reiterating, I know I'm a little heavier these days. I will also take you back in time a moment, to about 10 years ago when I was around the same weight/size I am today. I went to Great America with a group of friends and we were going to ride Batman (not The Dark Knight, another Batman roller coaster. Yes, we have two Batman themed roller coasters at our park! Suck it Magic Mountain!) We boarded the ride, which is one where you hang underneath the track and your feet dangle. Once again a harness comes down over your shoulders, and then you clip a safety belt into it from between your legs. That particular visit, I couldn't get my belt to click. I needed one of my buddies to literally lean into my harness, smashing my ribcage in order to get the seat belt to click in. It worked, but it was not my finest hour.

So now back to 2011. I board Iron Wolf and settle in to the end position. The harness pulls down without a problem and locks in place. Great, I think to myself. Let's get this party started. But I forgot, Iron Wolf also requires the rider to fasten a damn crotch belt! And I didn't have a friend there to smother me. The attendant came by and tried to help. The clip and the connector on the harness were touching, but were not coming together. "Pull down hard," the kid said, already feeling embarrassed for me. No dice. "Try pushing down really hard from the top," he suggested. I sucked in my gut with all my might, and yanked down on the harness like a man desperate not to be publicly shamed off the ride, which is exactly what I was. To no avail. If one end of that safety belt was male, and the other female, than one or both was homosexual, because there was to be no consummation of that relationship. "I'm sorry," the young attendant said softly. I smiled, laughed it off, and told him it was no big deal. That I'd kind of expected it but thought I'd give it a shot. And for the moment, I meant it. But as he had to signal the other attendant to release all the harnesses of my row so I could exit, and I slipped out of the cumbersome position the cars already have you in, the embarrassment began to take hold. I walked across the exit side of the station, past a mother who was next to me in line that was waiting while her daughter rode. Her daughter, I might add, was in the same row I was in, so this lady had seen the whole bloody affair. She gave me this sympathetic cock of the head and half-smile as if to say, "I'm sorry, you poor fat bastard."

I have to admit, I'm no shriveling violet, but my spirit was pretty low at that moment. I started doing a quick inventory of all the park rides in my head and wondering which, if any, I would be able to shoehorn my fat butt into. Then I began to lament what I'd paid to get into the park in the first place. The better part of a Ben Franklin by time you counted "discounted" admission and parking. That would be a high price to pay for a day of walking endless laps on hot asphalt, battling sweaty crowds under a relentless sun, watching other people have fun. I was starting to kick myself for not staying home watching The Larry Sanders Show on Netflix. Long blog post short, it ended up not being so bad. I figured out pretty quickly that I would just have to skip any rides that go upside down, because those employ the harness/belt restraints. In fact the long lines impeded my fun far worse than safety mechanisms. I got a couple spins on some killer coasters, drowned what was left of my sorrows with a pretty decent foot-long chili cheese dog (yeah that's right), and left feeling more or less accomplished.

I didn't even share the events of the day with my wife when she called that night to check-in. I just silently sipped a chocolate cake shake from Portillo's, before turning in early.

The next day, as a strange twist of fate, I received an email from Six Flags asking if I'd fill out a Customer Satisfaction survey. Really? Me? I began to twist the ends of my moustache and laugh maniacally. I logged in, prepared to rip all six of their flags a new one. But then it occurred to me. The obvious problem. My dissatisfaction with the park had far more to do with me then with them. Don't get me wrong, I still let them know how in the years since my last visit to Great America I'd been to Disneyland, World, and Universal, and had no trouble with any rides at any of those parks. I pontificated about how they're alienating much of the country, especially considering they sit on the border of Illinois and Wisconsin . . . the beef capitals of the world, and I ain't talking about cattle! At one point I actually said there are more fat people than thin people in this country, and which group do you expect will pay $11 bucks for a cheeseburger? And if they can't get on any of the rides, how much longer do you expect them to come and spend that money?

But I took full responsibility for my own problem. The weight that I'd gained since my last visit. It presents far bigger problems than riding roller coasters, obviously. And it served as just another painful reminder of my massive failure at the beginning of the year. So, I told Six Flags that while my initial reaction was I won't be returning for a long time, I changed my tune. I told them they've got one more shot, next summer. But that's not a challenge to them. It's a challenge to me. I actually emailed this to the President of the park as well. I said I will lose weight this year, and I will come back one more time. I will walk straight to Iron Wolf and I will pull down that harness and I will, unattended, click that seat belt. And I will pull out the slack in the belt as well.

How's that for setting myself up with another stupid public declaration? Setting myself up to fail . . . or flail . . . on a roller coaster? Come with me next summer and let's see. If nothing else, you can smash down the harness for me! ; )

Just kidding. For the record, I've dropped 3 lbs in the last 2 days.