Mmmmmm.....donuts!!!

When I was six or seven years old, I went to a Boy Scout meeting with my brother, his good buddy Mike and Mike's Dad.

After the Boy Scout meeting, we exited the church and about two or three inches of fresh fluffy snow had fallen on the ground.

Mike turned to his Dad "Let get some donuts!!!"

Mike's Dad nodded and said, "Sounds good to me, let's go."

We all hopped into his truck (not sure what type it was) and zoomed out of the church parking lot and onto the snow-covered road.

My brother and Mike were talking about the Boy scout meeting (something about a box car derby, if memory serves correctly). I wasn't listening because all I could think about was tasting those fresh, piping hot glazed donuts followed by a nice, glass of fresh milk.

I was pretty giddy with excitement to say the least.

"We're here," Mike's Dad yelled as he pulled into Steeple Valley Middle School.

"Sweet," cheered my brother.

"Yeah," screamed Mike.

"Cool," I shouted.

Was there some sort of bake sale going on at the school that I didn't know about? I didn't care. I was hungry for some donuts. Chocolate covered. Old-fashioned. Smothered in white icing with those little flickers of funfetti on top. It didn't matter to me. My stomach started to grumble with anticipation. I couldn't contain myself.

All of a sudden Mike's Dad hit the gas and started twisting and turning the car around school parking lot. The car slid and twisted around the basketball hoops implanted in the middle of the playground while Mike and my brother hooted and hollered with glee.

I'll have to admit. It was pretty fun. It felt like a roller coaster ride at Cedar Point.

Then, just like that, Mike's dad pulled his truck out of the parking lot. Mike and my brother were giving each other high fives and telling Mike's dad how awesome he was.

We got dropped off at home and said our goodbyes to Mike and his father.

As my brother ran inside with his yellow bandana hopping in the wind, I stood there in the falling snow an utterly confused kid.

What in the hell just happened?

And where in the fuck were my donuts?

Is You Is or Is You Ain't My Baby!

I was just thinking of this Tom and Jerry cartoon yesterday. My brother and I used to sing it all the time when we were young. Check out the hot female cat that Tom's singing to. Rawr!

No wonder I liked this cartoon.

A Winning One-Word Presidential Campaign Speech.

I was in sixth grade history class and our teacher Ms. Myers (a dinosaur of a woman who always wore these big, flowery sundresses) was discussing the various American wars of the world.

As I scanned the room, you could just tell that no one was paying any attention to her.

Some were doodling. Some were drooling. Others were picking their nose. Some were even flicking their nose. I, however, was scrawling EIMER FOR PRESIDENT on my brown paper grocery bag history book cover.

No, no one was paying attention to her stupid presentation. Because all thoughts (at least my own) were firmly focused on the upcoming class presidential elections scheduled to occur right after history class.

The three candidates (myself included) were going to read campaign speeches in front of the class in hopes of persuading potential suckers to vote for us.

I practiced my speech all night and couldn't wait to take the stage. It was funny, yet sublime. Poignant, yet loosey-goosey. It was perfect.

Without being too cocky, I knew that after my speech was over, I was destined to be President of Steeple Valley.

My thoughts of conquering the world were rudely interrupted by Ms. Myers' scraggily voice.

"My oh my," she said in a high octave that woke up the class. "I've been through a lot of wars."

Then she looked up in the air, deep in thought, and started counting the various wars on her fingers.

"Vietnam...World War 1...World War 2....Korean," she put a finger to her mouth and started tapping her lip. "Mmmmm?"

Suddenly this kid Jason (who was also running for class president) yelled from the back row.

"Civil."

The class started to laugh.

Ms. Myers, however, got pissed.

She gave Jason one of those Marty Feldman, angry teacher glares. Then, without saying a word, held out her skeleton-like finger and pointed towards the door.

With a big shit-eating grin on his face, Jason shuffled off to the principal's office; an inevitable detention was in his foreseeable future.

More importantly, he wouldn't be able to deliver his campaign speech to the masses.

Oh yeah!

But, it really didn't matter.

Much to Ms. Myers chagrin (and my own), his one-word pre-election campaign speech cemented his legacy as our Sixth-Grade Class President.

It was a landslide victory.

Kudos to you Jason. Kudos to you.

As they say in the news; there's no such thing as bad publicity. Especially if it's funny.

________

Click here for another childhood story involving Jason.

A Cedar Point 70's Gang Story

I've talked about my love affair with Cedar Point

I've also talked about ways to upgrade theme parks around the country.

But, my very first memory of Cedar Point that still lingers in my brain involves a gang who looked like cast members of the hit 70's flick The Warriors.

I'll try to keep this short.

I was about seven or eight years old (maybe younger) and it was a warm summer day. My mom, dad, brother and I were waiting in line to ride The Blue Streak at Cedar Point.

This summer, I had just made the 'you-must-be-as-tall-as-this-stick-to-ride-this-ride' height to be able to conquer all of the rollercoasters at the park. Much like getting a driver's license, this was an important badge of honor in a young boy's life. Myself included.

My brother - a rollercoaster aficionado to this day - had a simple strategy on this particular trip: take his younger brother on a couple smaller rollercoasters (i.e. the Mine Ride, The Corkscrew and The Blue Streak) and get him ready, willing and able to ride biggest, baddest, newest rollercoaster of them all, The Gemini.

Sure it was extremely selfish on his part. But, in a way, it was helping me overcome my rollercoaster fear as well. Thanks bro.

Anyhow, when you're waiting in line, you have to walk these metal gates that send you through this endless maze that stretches back and forth, back and forth until, finally, you reach your ride.

If you love to peoplewatch, then waiting in line for a ride at Cedar Point is the thing to do.

Hot girls.
Nasty girls.
Big guys.
Skinny guys.
Cute kids.
Ugly kids.
Here come the fat kids!

So there we were waiting in line. All of a sudden this group of guys approached the ride and took their place behind us in line. As I stated above, they looked like extras from the hit movie The Warriors. I remember that they were a little rowdy, giving each other high fives and the like. I also noticed that they were all dressed the same...black t-shirts and blue jeans. Which seemed a bit crazy to me considering the humid temperature.

My dad (with his big-ass curly head and big-ass sideburns) kept looking back at the gang with this annoying scowl, almost like he was keeping them in check. At least that's what it seemed like to me.

Anyhow, we made our way around the first turn of the gate, advanced one gate forward ahead and headed back down the line.

That's when something frightening caught my eye.

As the gang of dudes approached the turn in the gate, the leader of the gang (I'm not sure but I believe he had one of those roach clip feather things in his hair) walked by and put his left hand on the top of the railing.

That's when I noticed his knuckles. They were busted open and covered in blood.

My heart started racing.

Then I looked at the rest of the gang. They too had similar battle wounds.

One guy had a black eye. Another guy had blood dripping out of his mouth. A couple of the other guys had bloody knuckles as well.

Being a young kid, this threw me for a loop. Questions that I knew would never, ever be answered started swirling around in my little brain.

Did this gang just beat the shit out of some other gang in the parking lot?

Did they beat up a Cedar Point employee and charge their way into the park for free?

Did they get into a rumble before breakfast? (I should note that it was around 10 a.m. at the time.)

Did they just get finished robbing someone's house a' la The Clockwork Orange and rape one of the homeowners with an extra-large porcelain dildo?

I mean, I couldn't think of a better thing to do after a big street battle then to to hop in my van (that's what I pictured them driving), heading to Cedar Point and riding The Blue Streak.

All before 10 a.m. and without cleaning your wounds.

Every time I passed the leader in line, I thought he was going to take a swing at me with his fist full of steel and kept my distance from his bloody guns. They must've got a kick out of that.

Then I imagined that I was part of their gang. And that I, too, had just got finished kicking the shit out of some gang members.

Then I imagined that my mom, dad, brother and I were a gang and we were going to beat the crap out of some other family in the park.

Then I thought that I was going to be a part of a gang someday and possibly kill someone and go to prison.

Then I started thinking about prison. Then I got really, really nervous.

My memory was going so fast that I didn't even realize we were on The Blue Streak.

When we hit the first hill, I wasn't excited, scared or anything. I couldn't stop thinking about bloody knuckles, gangs and prison.

For the rest of the day, I was completely messed up by the bloody knuckles and the gang of droogs at The Blue Streak line.

That was the only time I really, truly didn't enjoy myself at America's Roller Coaster Capital of the World.

Thanks a lot you wannabe Warriors assholes!