Rolling Coasters

We had a three day weekend. Correction. For my currently on summer holiday, five year old, Lanes, and my blundering unemployed self, everyday is a long weekend--so to speak.  For my long suffering spouse, P, it was a chance to have some fun in between bill paying, errand running, and wasting time on the Internet looking for new places to live.

P decided that we should go to the PlayLand at the PNE (www.pne.ca).  Labor Day weekend was the last chance for us to give Lanes her first ever amusement park experience--for this year. So I guess the trip to Disneyland I've been dropping hints about, purely for Lanes' sake of course, is out?

I was reluctant to partake in the activities because I heard that the PNE was notoriously crowded on this particular weekend. I despise crowds; they make me feel claustrophobic. Before I put the kibosh on the idea, P had already told Lanes about it and she was raring to go, and if I cancelled the plans, I'd be labelled down there with the Grinch who stole Christmas.

After waddling around swearing at my fate, I got into the spirit of things after I saw how excited Lanes was. She had three goals: go on a roller coaster, try a Ferris wheel, and eat some cotton candy. I figured the first one I could veto because she was too small.

Her father vetoed the second choice, I have no idea why, something to do with a fear of being stuck on top. The third option we were all in, and I was delighted that Lanes loves to share because I have a soft spot for cotton candy--the pink ones in particular. Perhaps that's why I have so many lumpy spots.

As we entered the play area, I noticed there was a mini roller coaster and the kids in line looked about Lanes' age at least. Obviously, an adult had to accompany the child on the ride and knowing I don't have the stomach or the heart to try a 'real' roller coaster, I thought this was the ideal way for both Lanes and I to get our thrills.

I thought we were lucky that we were the first to enter the area in our batch and I brilliantly chose the first car on the ride. I vaguely remembered hearing that the first car in a roller coaster has the scariest view--after the operator pressed the 'go' button.

Lanes, ever game for a good time, was beaming from ear to ear. As we approached our first twisted descend, I felt like we were going to hurdle off the rails and into the ground. Surely we are not secure with only a metal bar in front of us? Where were the seat belts? The eject button? Something, anything? Even with my girth and density, it seemed like I lurched forward a little.

At that moment the gravity of the situation--literally--hit me. It was too late to turn back and this blasted thing went on for two rounds. Lanes was grinning with delight next to me, but I was shamelessly petrified and I could hear my aunt's voice in my head chastising me 'I told you not to go on that ride child!'.

With no escape plan on the ready, I decided I'll just scream like a school girl at a Justin Bieber concert. Lanes looked at me, and quickly followed suit. So we had a very noisy ride and my heart was pounding out of my chest when the ride was over. Lanes wanted to go again, but I felt like I'd have heart failure if I had another go. P was unwilling to oblige so that that was that.

In hindsight, it was a lot of fun and P got a hilarious shot of both of us screaming and holding the bars for dear life. I promptly e-mailed it to the elderly relatives in the Motherland and got the expected horrified responses. Mission accomplished.

My nutty sister saw pictures of our day at the amusement park, and in between baby talking to her dog and making dinner and she yelled at me and threatened to take custody of 'her' child thinking I took Lanes on a ride called Atmosfear. Now that's one crazy ride.

You go up 218 feet in the air and you get swung around like a lasso 360°, at about 70km/hr. On one hand, the brave folks that go on the ride would have a fantastic view of the mountains and Vancouver city. On the other hand, they might be scared silly.

If I did it, with my luck, a gaggle of geese would fly into me or the power would go out and I'd be suspended in mid air. So no way was I doing that. I took a picture for you loyal readers though. Perhaps there are some brave souls out there who want to give it a whirl. I don't recommend you do it soon after a meal.

After sampling all the rides and taking in a show of the Peking Acrobats we called it a day. I even cheated on my liver diet and indulged in Pennsylvania Dutch Funnel cakes (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Funnel_cake); also known in my book as little fluffy pieces of gastronomic heaven. For something that can make you weigh a ton, you sure feel like you have wings when you eat them.

P, the disciplined one in the family, shook his head at me but didn't dare utter a word. As he marched on with Lanes to catch the bus home, I floated behind them savoring every bite. Several people stopped me to ask where I found the funnel cake from, because trust me, it was just so darn delicious. Fully worth facing the accusing look in my homeopathy doctor's steel blue eyes!

Now it's back to reality. Today I had to go for a fifteen minute interview at Lanes' kindergarten. I was sideswiped by the end of summer and had to find and fill out the several pieces of paper we were given at orientation a few months ago. Our apartment is where paperwork comes to never be found again--sort of like the witness protection program for documents.

As usual, when I'm trying to accomplish something, my nutty sister calls on cue. I made the mistake of telling her that the letter with our appointment information said that I should bring a translator should I need one. She lamented that she actually had work to do, otherwise she would have crossed the border and attended the interview as my translator.

That can only end badly because with my random misunderstanding and twisting of syllables in our mother tongue, I once told someone to fry my dog and then marry a fish. I was trying to say fry a fish and put the leash on the dog. Luckily, neither the dog or any fish were harmed due to my misinterpretation.

My sister then wanted P to take leave from work and for him to spend seven minutes of the interview translating for me and then she thought it would be hilarious if we swapped roles and then I started translating for him for the last seven minutes.

When she got no response from me (she couldn't see me bashing my forehead into my bedside table), she started her South Asian accent and made up a jingle that involved lentils and chickpeas and not speaking English.

When they were picking out families in heaven I think I must have picked the shortest straw. Sometimes I wonder if everyone around me is crazy or if it's just me. All I know is that she too casually asked me what time the interview was and I gave her a fake time and put my cell phone off. Last thing I wanted her to do was call in.

I had to explain to her that it was a serious interview and not an episode of 'Who Wants to Be a Millionaire' and she certainly was not my life line.  I don't think it's acceptable for Aunts to phone in on kindergarten interviews.  The teacher would think we are all mad! My nutty sister was a little put out but bounced back up and pottered off to torment her two girls and four legged son.

With that I must sign off. Lanes starts kindergarten tomorrow. I'm taking deep breaths and trying not to have palpitations over it. It's a gradual entry so it's only one hour tomorrow. Here's to hoping that a.) my nutty sister won't show up at the class with twenty questions for the teacher and b.) Lanes has a good time, which is directly proportional to my mental and physical well being! More musings from BC next week...

Those little specks are humans! What a ride!