Saturday at Six Flags pt.1: The Parkerite Experience

A couple of weeks ago, Rocket G'ovich posted on the PFL message board that the whole G'ovich Clan was going to be in the area the weekend of the 7th, and that while their itinerary was up in the air, they were definitely taking the kids to Six Flags on that Saturday, and everyone was welcome to join them. I replied that I was always up for Six Flags, since it meant I might actually get my money's worth out of my Season Pass for once. Not too long after that I got an email from Cap'n Cluck inquiring about when we could try to get a group to head down to Six Flags for Fright Fest, since she also was concerned about getting her Season Pass's worth. I told her I was probably going to go with the Parkerites, and that she was more than welcome to come; thought this would be a good chance for members of two separate blog monkey groups to actually meet. Of course, there seems to be some force that is determined to make such meetings difficult (see the recent Survivor Weekend fiasco for an example), and in this particular case the force manifested itself as it often does in my dealings with Parkerites: poor communication.

You see, although I had responded to the initial post about Six Flags and had chatted briefly with the Doc about their weekend plans, I never made any firm plans to meet up with them. Oh, I had every intention of doing so, but then I wound up calling in sick last week, and they were already on the road when I once again had Internet access the next day. But, I thought to myself, no problem, I can just call them on their cell and make plans. Then I got distracted by other pesky little things like “work” and “getting my butt kicked at bowling” and didn't get around to trying to call them until Saturday morning, which is when I realized I didn't have their number in my phone like I thought I did. But, again, I thought there was no problem, since all I had to do was call Pooh to get it . . . which is when I found out that Clan G'ovich was currently without a cell of any kind. And, since the last I had heard, nobody else was planning on going to Six Flags with them, making contact with them was looking like an impossibility. All of which I discovered, by the way, while Cluckity and I were eating lunch at a Taco Bueno about five minutes from the park.

My spirits weren't too terribly dampened; I mean, yes, I had been looking forward to seeing Clan G'ovich, but I knew they would be in the area at least another day, so I figured even if I missed them at Six Flags I could catch them at The Eskimo's place the next night, The Eskimo having called my cell while we were in line for The Titan to invite me. So, while Cluckity and I navigated the massive crowds I kept an eye out for The Doc and company, but without much hope of actually seeing them. I did tell Cap'n Cluck that if we saw them out and about, I wanted her to go up and ask the kids if they wanted some candy, to see how well Doc and Rocket had installed stranger-fear into the little ones, but as the day wore on I had resigned myself to yet another missed blog-monkey-meeting opportunity.

A little after 7:00, after Cluckity and I had eaten dinner and watched a show*, we were heading to the Shockwave in hopes of getting it ridden before the Fright Fest Finale at 9:00. As we were walking by the Superman Tower of Power, I was half-heartedly scanning the crowd for signs of Parkerites when something caught my eye, something which looked suspiciously like the back of The Doc's head. Now, I had been fooled by similar looking individuals earlier in the day, but as this figure turned in profile, I realized that it was indeed The Doc, standing in line for some food with his oldest daughter. I stopped in my tracks, turned to Cluckity, and said "Go up to that girl in the red shirt and ask her if she wants some candy." Or, that's what I thought I said; however, in my excitement at actually having discovered G'ovich, I apparently spoke in such a hurried pace that all Cluck caught was "girl" and "shirt,” so she stared at me quizzically. Made unusually impatient by the unlikely discovery, I headed over to the line myself, prompting Cluck to think that I was going to ask this little girl to turn around to show of her t-shirt, which confused her even further.

I came up behind them, leaned over, and in my best creepy old man voice said "Do you want some candy, little girl?" Young G'ovich spun around, seemed to recognize me, and made a face. The Doc turned towards the sound of a stranger offering his daughter candy with a stern look on his face, one that barely changed after he saw it was me. I greeted him, and his was oddly noncommittal. The person in front of them had finished ordering, so I motioned to the window and said "They're waiting for your order." The Doc slowly turned back to the window, and so I asked Young G'ovich how she was doing, calling her by name. This got another turn out The Doc, who looked at me intensely for a few seconds. You see, he had no clue who I was; when I addressed them by name, he started going through the lists of all the people they had known while living in Plano, before finally registering "Oh, wait, it's that guy I used to room with who I've known for 13 years." A great bolster to my ego, that was.

His defense? That I was "incognito in a hat."

Anyway, after realizing that I wasn't some random weirdo harassing his family, but instead a well-known weirdo harassing his family, The Doc lead Cluckity and myself over to where the rest of his family were sitting . . . along with Clan Eskimo, who had decided at the last minute to join them on their Six Flags excursion. So, if I had just made an off-hand comment to The Eskimo when he called earlier, we could have met up with them earlier in the day. Oh, well, such is life.

We visited for a little bit before Clan Eskimo decided to head home to put their little one to bed. Clan G'ovich headed off to the Sponge-Bob ride, while Cluckity and I finished our trek to the Shockwave, and then we all met up at the front afterwards to watch the big Fright Fest Finale. Afterward we trekked towards our vehicles, which turned out to be parked fairly close to each other. I said goodbye, and said I'd try to get over to The Eskimo's place on Sunday.

Of course, after spending an entire day outside at this time of year, I felt horrible the next day, barely made it to and from church, and knew there was no way on earth I was going to be able to make it to McKinney and back, so I instead just collapsed on the couch and home and hoped that everyone would understand.

If they even remembered who I was, that is.


*More on that in Part 2