The life odometer is about to tick over, and my wife is after me to write something about the weekend, so here it is. We decided to treat the kids to a day at the Six Flags Over Texas theme park in Arlington, Texas this past weekend. To our chagrin, and to no surprise for me at all, the park's rides were closed when we arrived. Why was it of no surprise to me, you ask? You see, for as long as I can remember, every single time my parents took me to Six Flags, it rained. I have many memories of us walking from the car to the gate only to stop for a rain check. Over and over and over again. I began to think that I was a rain-god who could only make it rain by paying a visit to Six Flags in the summer. And so we left the park in search of more children's entertainment. As we approached loop 12 from I-30, I thought to call back to Six Flags to check the status of the rides. The park employee told me that the rides were running. So, we exited and turned back for Arlington. Again, storm clouds started to form, and it looked as if they were on an intercept course with us. Five miles from the park, it began to sprinkle. Not long after that, we could see some of the taller rides from the highway. They were still running, and to my amazement, they were still running when we made our way back to the gate. Whether the old Flores Rain Curse is over or not, I cannot say. But, we were able to enjoy the evening at the park without much incident. We even met up with my niece and her boyfriend. Armed with dramamine, I was able to get on a few of the big rides without blacking out. I even cajoled my 8-yr old into riding the Flashback with me. Boy, did he get cold feet before getting on that thing! I even began to ponder whether it was such a good idea for me to get on that one. I tried to find my wife so that she could pull him out of the line, but she was off with our 6-yr old riding bumper cars. I was feeling pretty awful for putting the kid into so much anguish. He was trying to hold back tears as we lowered the harnesses onto us. Remember: I wasn't feeling very confident at this point, either, and listening to the plaintive wails of my son wasn't helping one bit! "This is gonna hurt," he said, over and over again. The ride began. The cars pulled back up the track. "Relax -- this is supposed to be fun," I said to him. We lurched forward, spinning over one, two, three times? I couldn't tell. The dramamine should have been working. I think that it was. I felt like laughing instead of fainting, so it was okay. "Be strong, be strong, be strong," from the boy. He was doing a good job of coaching himself though this ordeal. The trip backwards began. Once it was complete, I was done for. When the cars returned to the bay, my son and I stumbled out. He was speaking in a normal tone, now. No more whimpering, just commenting without affect. I can't recall what he was saying, because I was thinking only about navigating to a bench for a little rest. When my wife caught up with us, all she could talk about was how white I was. White, after spending the month of June outdoor on movie sets! That ride maxed me out, I said, and had to take it easy for the next forty minutes, or so. Once we were on our way home that night, my son remarked that his favorite ride was the one that had him so petrified -- the Flashback. It was a relief to think that I hadn't scarred the boy for life by taking him on that rollercoaster.