17. Pop's in the Park
Today is 23 days from the first anniversary of Dad’s passing. I’ve committed to writing 40 stories about him as that day approaches. Forty Steady Stories.
Disclaimer for this story. Every night around 8:00 PM I sit down with a few words in a phrase and write these stories about Dad… except this one. I wrote this several years ago for Father’s Day, so I apologize to all the people who’ve already read this… which is probably just my mom and my wife.
In all sincerity, thank y’all for your time, your encouragement, and your wit regarding all these Steady Stories.
When I was about 14 years old, I had a huge crush on a girl who was a few years older than I (henceforth referred to as Jane). Our families were vacationing separately in Myrtle Beach. One afternoon a bunch of us were heading to the Pavilion (a classic era amusement park). I was thrilled when Jane wanted to go ride some rides with me.
There was only one problem: I get sick on amusement rides that go in circles. Real sick.
So... we came to this ride called the “Rock ’n’ Roll Express” that looked like the picture above, except that instead of the blue base, several of these two person cages were suspended and connected and went around in a circle. So basically, you would sit facing each other, and the cylinder you were in would rotate, spin, and jerk you constantly... while you were also traveling around in a circle like a carousel.
Jane was so excited. I, not so much. But I wanted to be with her, so I prayed something like, “Ok. God, here’s the deal: please don’t let me get sick on this ride, and I will eat my vegetables without being asked for the rest of my life.”
The attendant strapped us in. Jane and me. Facing each other. Her laughing. Me laughing and praying. Then the ride started.
About 30 seconds in, I knew I was in trouble. I uttered the most intense and sincere prayers a 14-year-old with a crush has ever uttered: “Ok. God, forget about the veggies. I’ll never do anything wrong ever again.”
Fifteen seconds later I could see that God was working in mysterious ways. All the blood drained from my face and my stomach felt like I’d swallowed a Castor Oil cocktail with a fish intestine chaser.
Then I threw up. A lot.
Did I mention that The Rock ’n’ Roll Express rotated around violently, and that centrifugal force works as well with vomit as with water? Who knew!?
So, there I am strapped into a chair facing the older girl that I had a crush on. My mouth is open and am throwing up all over her (and me) while being forced to look straight at her the whole time — at least when my eyes weren't rolling around in the back of my skull.
She starts understandably screaming like a bunch of badgers are in the cage with us. She screamed so loud that the attendant hits the emergency button and stops the ride. She and I are covered in vomit head to toe, and as soon as the guy opened the cage, she had her seat belts off and bolted out of the cage still screaming with her arms flailing. I get off the ride and EVERYONE in a hundred-foot radius is staring at me, laughing or both.
I ran as fast as I could to the bathroom and went to the corner stall. I was content to live out the rest of my days right there without ever going out in public again. I would be known as The Pavilion Monk in the Corner Stall. Saint Vomitus. I knew I would never marry after this—especially not Jane—so being a monk suited me just fine.
About 15 minutes later, I hear my dad’s voice in the bathroom.
“Chip?”
“Yeah Dad.”
“Are you ok?”
“No. Not really.”
“Need anything?”
“Can you get me a t-shirt and some shorts?”
“Ok.”
A few minutes later, my dad handed me a new t-shirt and shorts. I threw the old ones away, put on the new ones, and we walked back to the hotel for a much-needed shower. I decided that I wasn’t ready to be a monk just yet, even though I knew Jane and I probably wouldn’t have a second date after this. I didn’t say much walking back, and I’m sure he had to bite his tongue a little. Let’s face it — that story is funny unless you’re the one in the chair trying to impress the girl.
Dad showed up that day at just the right time while I was still covered in vomit and hiding from the world with zero plan on how to fix things. I needed a dad and friend — at the same time — that day, and he was both. I felt so alone, and he knew that I not only needed a new shirt and shorts; I needed him to just walk beside me for a while. It was by no means the only time my dad rescued me, but I think it’s the time I remember the most.
