Surviving The Super Bowl aka "The Toilet Flusher"

My friend Millie's daughter Olivia calls one of the water slides at our local water park the "Toilet Flusher".  I think the proper name for this attraction is the Super Bowl and it rises above the park, a huge, circus-like bowl decked in pink and yellow stripes that you plunge into after climbing up to a height of 35 to 40 feet and then shooting down a slide on your tube.

The "Toilet Flusher"

Saturday Millie and I, along with our families and friends, were enjoying our company's family fun day at the water park, bobbing along in the wave pool without a care.  It was a beautiful day and I was planning on spending the majority of my time in that spot, broken up by a few trips on the lazy river and maybe a round of laser tag or two.

I had planned on leaving the water slides to everyone else since I hadn't been down one since I was a kid and had no plans at all of rectifying that. Just looking up at those heights made my stomach flip over because, despite the water sliding, roller coaster riding dare devil I was as a child, the adult me is quite the chicken when it comes to that stuff.  Shoot, two years ago when I was at my heaviest, I was scared to go up or down stairs. I've gotten over that I'm proud to say, but at the same time, they weren't getting me on a water slide, oh no.

Or so I'd planned.  After a few rounds of riding up and down waves in the pool, our group decided it was time to go ride the Toilet Flusher and that I was coming too, and also that they weren't going to take "no" for an answer.   Caught up by the crowd, I left the pool and grabbed a tube, trying to think of a way out the whole way over to the slide.    Should I slip off and ditch them? No, they're surrounding me and they know I'm a flight risk.  Won't work.  Should I fake a medical emergency?  No.  I want to enjoy the rest of my day here at the water park, not in an ambulance or hospital.  Should I flat out refuse to budge?  Hmm. That doesn't seem likely as my husband and Millie are even more strong-willed and stubborn than I am.  And those two lunatics were insisting that I get over my fears and ride this ride.

Up we climbed slowly in the crowded tower to the top of the ride.  With each step my panic grew.  I kept asking questions to Eric and Millie like, "Do you see some bolts missing on this thing?"  "Is it completely dark in that tube?"  "What would happen if I fall off of my float?"  "Is it possible to get stuck in the tube?"  "Is this tower sturdy?  These boards look sketchy." And on and on.  Oh and I broke my questions up with a chorus of "I don't want to do this."

At one point I looked down at Millie from several steps above her with sheer terror on my face and she said, "You can do this.  Trust me.  Look at you, you wouldn't have even climbed these stairs a year and a half ago and look at you now!" I looked up at my husband and he said, "Sweetheart you can do this. You'll be fine." Finally, with the resolve to be brave, and the glass of wine they bribed me with after the ride was finished (provided I survived), I made my way to the top of the tower.  Refusing to look down, I focused on the mouth of the tube and the carefree way that everyone, but yours truly and a couple of six year olds, was jumping on their floats and riding on down.   Then it was my turn.  I got situated on my float and the lifeguard gave me a push.

Suddenly I was rocketing down the slide faster than I'd prepared myself for, volleying up and down the tube as I descended, clinching onto my float for dear life and just knowing I was going to flip out of it at any minute.  Next I was spat out into the bowl where I was cycloned around and around (screaming "I hate this!" at the top of my lungs) before flying into another hole and down another chute until I was blessedly spat back out into the lazy river.  I'd like to say I felt exhilerated and ready to go again, and I'd like to say that I didn't call my friends and husband the word that means "a person whose parents aren't married", but that wouldn't be the truth now would it?

Well, I survived the Toilet Flusher and even though it didn't turn me back into a water slide junkie, I was proud of myself that I did what I couldn't have and wouldn't have a year and a half ago.   And it was a great day with a lot of calories burned swimming, walking, climbing stairs, running around in laser tag and standing in line for thirty minutes to ride go karts.  At least enough to burn off the soft pretzel I ate because hey, we all deserve a treat now and then.