My Inner Child Is Not So Inner....

I don't think I will ever be old enough to stop loving amusement parks. I have this vision of myself as a seventy-year-old woman in orthopedic shoes, elastic-waist pants, and a t-shirt with appliqued glittery kittens, still standing in line for an hour to ride the newest super-spinny triple-loop roller coaster of doom at Six Flags Over The Apollo Landing Site.

This does not fill me with the shame that it probably should.

In other news, the "new" (as of three years ago) roller coaster at Six Flags New England is a bizarre but fun hybrid of a coaster and the teacup ride, the Bizarro coaster is still seventeen kinds of awesome, and the Catapult ride is my new favorite thing in the world. It is deceptively simple, being just a giant platform that slowly rotates in 360 degrees in a vertical plane, first back and then forwards, but the levels of "Wheee-I'm balancing on my head"-->"Wheee I'm upside down!"--->"Wheee-I'm swooping dramatically forward/backward!" are unsurpassed by anything I have experienced so far, except maybe actual aerial sports. Others on the ride have reported that it might not have been worth the headrush, but I didn't notice, being too busy waving my hands and feet in the air like a giant goon and pretending I was flying.

And now I am home, and miraculously un-sunburned, and ready to go pretend I'm a grownup for the next eight hours or so....