Big Dork Dad in Waterpark

So here in Redding, there's a place called Waterworks Park. It sits on eight acres, with several water rides, along with tamer attractions for little kids and older folks.

Rhonda and I, prior to Dylan's arrival, never felt the pull of Waterworks Park. We'd instead opt for more natural water recreation at one of two nearby lakes: the huge Lake Shasta, with 370 miles of shoreline, or Whiskeytown Lake, with its beautiful quasi-alpine setting.

But, as any parent can attest, having a child changes things. Last summer, Dylan and Rhonda visited the park a few times at the invitation of our friend Sharyn and her two daughters. Dylan had a blast, so we bought season tickets for this summer.

Thus, Dad's initiation to Waterworks Park.

Last weekend, the three of us spent a couple of hours at the park. Dylan, Rhonda and I had a grand time plummeting down water chute rides. I was surprised when Dylan announced that he wanted to go down a ride called the Cyclone.

Dylan had announced on the way to the park that he would never, ever ride on the Cyclone. Not in his whole life. But after an hour or so at the park, he had a change of heart. He'd, ahem, mastered the three giant waterslides, and felt up to a bigger challenge. He wanted to ride on the Cyclone.

The Cyclone looks kind of scary. The rider climbs several flights of stairs, then plunges five stories down an enclosed tube into a giant bowl. It looks like a giant toilet bowl, in fact, complete with a drain at the bottom. The rider swirls around the bowl two or three times, then gets dumped down another steep chute. The ride ends with the rider being propelled through a waterfall and into a pool.

We picked up a two-person raft for the ride, then climbed the stairs to the top. Dylan showed no hesitation until we looked at the mouth of the chute. "Dad, can we go back down the stairs?" "Of course we can." We went anyway.

Yep, it was thrilling. Especially since it's dark in that tube. When we climbed out of the pool at the end, Dylan allowed as how he was glad he'd done it, but was in no hurry to do it again.

I should have left it at that, but for some reason, I got the bright idea that it would be fun to plummet down the Cyclone solo. I found one of the innertube-with-handles thingies for solo riders, and set off to face the Cyclone alone.

The young lady attending the ride at the top looked concerned when I approached. I'm not sure if it was because I was twice the age of the next oldest person waiting in line, or because of my size. To borrow a line from comedian Ron White, I'm between six-four and six-six, depending on which convenience store I'm walking out of.

"Sir, cross your ankles, and be sure to keep your feet down."

I'm a helicopter pilot. My working life is built on procedure. My life depends on adhering to procedure.

Unlike the two-person raft that Dylan and I had traveled down, the tube tended to rotate in the enclosed chute. I realized that fact at the very moment that it got good and dark in the chute.

"Be sure to keep your feet down." Mr. Helicopter Pilot, he with eleven thousand hours and thirty-three years of flying experience, he with thirty-three years of adhering to procedure, did not adhere to procedure.

Oh yeah, I kept my ankles crossed, but I didn't keep my feet down. As my tube rotated around, my feet brushed the wall of the chute. In a split second, I was flat in my back in the chute, head downhill, with the tube upstream. The tube and my body were serving as a plug against the rushing water. "This is not good," I thought.

Perhaps only a second passed until I could move my foot, wedged against the chute. Meanwhile, the wall of water had built appreciably. I plummeted again, only faster, and on my back, head downhill. "This is not good," I thought.

I began to tumble, and tumbled into the toilet bowl. The tube took its leave and plummeted down the last chute to the pool below. The water was no longer carrying me. I sat there in the toilet bowl for a moment, before sheepishly crawling to the final chute to the exit pool, and salvation. I suddenly remembered those dreams I had as a kid, those dreams where I'd find myself sitting in a classroom naked.

Rhonda and Dylan stood waiting for me, looking concerned. "What happened?" Rhonda asked. "The tube got away from me." I didn't feel like elaborating.

That night, Rhonda and I were in bed, almost asleep, when her voiced roused me. "Hal?" "Yeah." "What was that sound I heard when you were coming down the Cyclone?" "That was my body." She paused, then asked, "Your body?" "Yeah, that was the sound of my body tumbling through the chute. And the bowl." Rhonda began laughing, laughing hard. I heard her nose running. She was laughing so hard she was crying. She recovered for a moment, then asked, "What were you thinking?" I answered, "I was thinking, this is not good." Rhonda completely lost it. She was laughing so doggone hard the bed was shaking. I fell back to a slumber to the sound of my dear bride laughing herself to sleep.

It's wonderful to be loved.