Tig-O-Bitties and Other Tales

I puke so much. All
the time. I have the weakest stomach of almost anyone I ever met. I puke,
on average, like once a month. Back in February I woke up at about 2:30 a.m., lay
nauseated in bed for half an hour, hurled, brushed teeth, had water and went
right back to sleep. No idea why. I woke up the next morning with tiny broken
vessels all around my eyes (that always happens), but otherwise I was fine.

Well, I barfed again yesterday. The boyfriend and I drove down to
Chattanooga to visit his family. His mom was kind enough to give us tickets to
Six Flags in Atlanta so on Saturday the boyfriend, the boyfriend’s sister and I
took his mom’s Explorer to Hotlanta (temp: 102) to ride the roller coasters.

You can tell from my
biography page that I like roller coasters. Even though they come last, I
really, really like roller coasters a whole, whole lot and so does the
boyfriend’s sister. We were both dancing around like eight year olds
impatiently waiting for the boyfriend to get ready. The boyfriend’s sister is
not the most exuberant girl I’ve ever met. She’s great, and really funny, but
once I overheard her on the phone to a friend. She said, "I’m so excited
to see you. It’s been so long." And I was like, "Was she just being
sarcastic?" The boyfriend was like, "No, that’s about as outwardly excited as she
gets." I like it. I’m high strung and edgy. She’s always cool as a
Christmas in July, whatever that means.

Anyway, the boyfriend and his mom made us scrambled eggs and turkey bacon
(I’m back on the meat.) and bagels and mmmmmm, Ethiopian High Priest coffee.
That coffee was damn good. His mom set out travel mugs, 16 oz. ones, so
I filled one up. It was gone long before we sat in the hellacious 285 Atlanta
traffic. All those freaking cars should have been a huge sign of what lay
ahead.

We parked and walked into the park with a mass of other people. As the
boyfriend’s sister put it, "I think every person who worships Jesus in the
state of Georgia was at Six Flags yesterday." We walked in behind a group
of about 150 people all wearing the same T-shirt with a big cross on the front. Once inside the park we
noticed that there were Christian-themed shirts everywhere. A girl wearing a
black baby doll tee that said "Satan Sucks" was a personal favorite
of the group.

There were so many fucking people there, oh my God, I cannot stress it
enough. By the end of the day I was threatening to push children and squirt
them with my $3 water bottle. It was also Kids Something day which meant
approximately 70% of the park was 18 and under. And there is this water slide
ride called Skull Island in the Six Flags park, so all the kids were wearing swimsuits. And when I say kids I’m
talking about your skanky teenaged daughter. Parents, please, make your
daughters put their tits away. And their vaginas. Because we can see their
vaginas you know, in those ridiculous swaths of clothing with a drawstring they
call shorts.

I should stop here to tell you about T.O.B. We were standing in line for the
Monster Plantation ride, a ride we never actually rode for reasons I will
explain later. Just in front of us were three teenagers. One was a tall young
man in long denim shorts to his ankles with a gold chain with a medallion of
some sort, a huge fake-ass looking diamond earring and a trucker hat turned
sideways. With this young man were two young women. One girl’s name was
Bridget. We knew this because it was airbrushed in hot pink on both the front
and back of her t-shirt as well as on her white, side-cocked trucker hat. The
lettering of her name made it look like a graffiti tag done in three shades of pink. Why  was Bridget wearing a hat when it was over 100 degrees out?

The third
companion was T.O.B. She wore long jeans and a black t-shirt with that
obnoxious cartoon bunny rabbit on it. It said, "It’s all about me so just get over
it." I gotta tell you, I was so over it. On her head was a sideways white trucker hat with a
rose airbrushed in hot pink beside the word(s) "Tig-O-Bitties."

Yes. Her hat said Tig-O-Bitties. The boyfriend’s sister noticed it first.
Naturally, we all had to check out this girl’s proclaimed generous assets. I’m afraid home
girl was frontin’. I knew I had to get a
picture of this hat. The boyfriend’s sister volunteered to pretend to pose for
a photo so I could get a quick snapshot. I couldn’t get her full on, but I did manage a decent side view.

But even T.O.B. was not amusement enough to keep me in that line any longer.
The air was stifling. It was sickeningly humid. It’s like attempting to breath
in a dishwasher. Just walking from the vehicle to the front gate had me
sweating balls. And I never sweat. Nothing short of full-on running makes me
sweat much unless it is blazing hot outside. Salt just spring from my pores,
sans moisture. Makes me all crusty. I also cannot regulate my body temperature
very well for some reason, which might a reason why I vomited in front of
people beside a bush.

First we rode the The
Mind Bender. We waited in line for 40 minutes in the shade so it wasn’t so bad.
Don’t get me wrong, it was still hot as shit, but it was pleasant compared to
the direct sunshine. While waiting in line though I started to feel a bit nauseated.
This is pretty much a daily occurrence for me, so I waited for it to pass. It
didn’t. When I don’t feel well I turn into a total whiner. I am annoying in
many ways, no doubt, but I don’t really consider myself whiney at all. Unless I
don’t feel well. If I feel bad and you are near me you are probably going to
hear all about it.

The roller coaster was badass, but my nausea increased a bit after all the flip-flops.
We went straight away to the Batman
ride right next to the Mind Bender. The tons of people waiting in line were
herded through much like cattle into a poorly ventilated room with shit for air conditioning.
It just wasn’t enough to properly cool those hundreds of hot, sweaty people. (Surprisingly,
there was very little body odor. That is rare for a theme park of any ilk.) The
real problem was it was hard to breathe. We were all sucking that same muggy,
recycled air. It made me dizzy and my nausea was kicking in pretty hard by that
point. I was scoping out emergency exits and crouching with my head between my
knees. The line was endless. I think I started hallucinating. I kept
envisioning we would all be gassed on the other side of that open door. To my
horror I found more waiting. But at least it was outside.

The ride was incredible. So fun. But when I came off that ride I knew I was
going to hurl. But I thought maybe, just maybe, if I got something to eat I could
do something about all that gourmet coffee sitting on my stomach. We couldn’t
find food before I almost passed out on the steps of this diner place with no
A/C. They showed me to a bathroom, but just I climbed up onto a rock wall with my
back to everyone and waited. I knew I  going to lose it. The question was when.
There was a long line at the women’s restroom. But I couldn’t wait in that line. I just
huddled discreetly and when the time came I started the spitting. Once there is
spitting it is inevitable that something will come forth.

Meanwhile the boyfriend was looking for a Sprite for me to drink, but was
getting denied all over town. The 50s diner was full of people, but the line
never budged. It was so insanely hot inside that the boyfriend nearly fainted himself. So he got in line at an outside vendor for water. Once he got to the front she
held up her hands and said, "I’m out." By the time he arrived back steaming pissed I had already mopped up my face
and was feeling much better. Which is to say shitty, because before I puked I was double
super sick.

Our next mission was food. We saw $7 foot long corn dogs and $8
sodas for sale. So we settled on a Mexican joint where we found a table (!), adequate air
conditioning (!!) and $8 nachos with beans and rice and cheese and sour cream and
guacamole and jalapenos and black olives (!!!). I’d say we got the best deal in the
park. I managed to force down 1/4 of my meal. I really just wanted Saltines. It was next that I tried to
wait in line with T.O.B. for a non-roller coaster ride, but I just couldn’t
hang. I needed to at least be in a seated position. Sadly, the boyfriend and his sister later
decided it wasn’t worth waiting since they’d both riden it before.

By that time it was late afternoon and everyone decided to ride one more roller
coaster. Superman:
Ultimate Flight was their choice. I knew there was no way I could ride
another roller coaster. I waited as they had what they claimed was a thrilling
experience. I’m so fucking jealous. I wanted to fly over the park like
Superman.

But it was cool overall. I was just glad to be feeling better. And the people watching
was PRIMO. Like I said, tons of pre-teen girls dressed like sluts. What I found truly
phenomenal was the lack of attention teenaged boys paid to these skimpily
dressed tarts. I like to watch girls, then watch the boys watch them, but to my
amazement they were not fazed. I practically saw this woman’s nipples, both of
them, and not a guy in sight noticed. I’m like a damn eagle with the people
watching. I may not be subtle (though I think I am), but I am thorough. Have
young men become so desensitized to slutwear that it has killed their dicks
completely?

We left after The Best Ride Ever That I Missed Out On Because I Can’t Not
Puke. Still, though, it was fun. When you contemplate punching a kid for
stepping on your foot you know you’ve had a fun day.

Check out the tiny photo gallery from our trip. The boyfriend took most of them.