As I believe I mentioned earlier, my absence the past day is the result of my fulfillment of a promise to Kate earlier in the year: Yes, I would take her and three of her friends to Cedar Point, and we would do it this week, aka Michigan Week, the week before Labor Day, when Ohio and Indiana schools are back in session but the Mitten, which starts after Labor Day by law, dammit, is not. Lines are miraculously short, the weather still irritatingly hot, and while it doesn’t feel like we have the park to ourselves, all the other people here seem to be wearing Tigers-branded sportswear.
Yesterday I struck up a conversation with two women wrangling seven-count-’em-seven little boys outside the changing rooms at the water park. “Where are you from?” the oldest boy asked, polite and sweet right down to his side-parted hair. “Detroit,” I said. “So are we!” he replied. “What part?” I asked. “Grosse Pointe!” they all said. Small world.
And so here we are. Drinking coffee on the balcony of our suite while the teenagers sleep. Soon they’ll be up and I’ll be pouring calories down their throats, and we’ll be off to ride the coasters we didn’t ride yesterday, plus extra rides on the ones they did ride yesterday, which was most of them.
I shouldn’t like this place, but I do. The prices are still on the reasonable side of steep, the service on the pleasant side of surly-seasonal, the views lovely, the grounds clean, the maintenance evident, the wifi free. I may even ride a coaster today, maybe, in keeping with my geezer status, the Blue Streak. Less terrifying than the big guns — the Millennium Force and, of course, the Dragster:
For now, I hear a rumbling from the bedroom; time to break out the granola bars and yogurt and get set for another day of high-speed and high-pitched yakking. It’s a wonderful life, and I’m grateful for it. Have a great weekend, all, and I’ll see you back here after Labor Day.
P.S. Yes, I know I should have been at the Eminem/Jay-Z concert last night. I wasn’t. See above.