Among the thrill slide choices at Great Wolf Lodge is the four-lane Mountain Edge Raceway with a digital timer at the end. As competitive as I am, this was calling my name more than the other slides.

The first time I went down, Calfgrit6 was in the lane beside me. I gave him a little push on his slick mat when the lifeguard said, “Ready, set, go!” and then I plopped chest down on my own mat and zipped down the chute.

Calfgrit6 emerged from the tunnel slide first, just ahead of me, but then I rocketed past him spraying water all around as I braked to a stop. He wanted to race again because, as he said, “I want to win.”

We jogged back up the staircase to the top of the slide and then took positions for another race. But I won again. I wanted to race like a daddy and let him win, but it’s not easy, (nor probably safe), to slow one’s self down when sliding down a wet plastic tube on a slick foam mat. The little guy had to admit he was far outclassed, (because I outweigh him by a hundred pounds), on that race track, and so he gave up interest in that slide. We moved on to the other thrills.

But later, when he was playing with his big brother in the wave pool, overwatched by their mother, I went back to the race slide for a little self-competition.

The park wasn’t very crowded, so there wasn’t a line for the slide, and most “races,” I went down all by myself. My challenge was against the timer at the end. After a couple times down, getting a time of around 10 seconds, I asked the lifeguard what a fast time was.

“You have to get at least 9.5 or 9.3.” So 9.3 became my goal.

After another couple times down, I had pretty much figured out some good speed tactics. I’d stand at the beginning, rather than lay down, and when the lifeguard at the top/beginning of the slide called out, “Go!” I threw myself into the tunnel. I had to stay crouched pretty low to avoid bashing my head on the top of the tunnel entrance.

At one point, I threw myself forward so enthusiastically that when I came down on my mat, the upturned front of the mat caught me right in the throat. I was gagging all the way down, but I still managed to beat even 9.0 seconds, (8.81 to be exact), on that run.

Another time going down, when my mat went up on the side of the tunnel through a turn, I rolled off the mat. It wasn’t until I blasted out of the tunnel like the last piece of cereal tumbling out of the box, near the end of the slide, where the bottom drops out from under the rider, giving me several inches of room for mat replacement, that I was able to get the mat back under me. Just in time to protect myself from the rippled plastic “brakes” at the very end of the slide.

I took a break from the racing after an 8.02 seconds run. A couple hours later, I wanted to try at least one more run to maybe get under 8 seconds. Again, I was the lone rider in the “race.” I told the beginning lifeguard that I was trying to best 8 seconds. He said, “OK, let’s see what we can do.”

That run down the slide came in at 6.50 seconds. Holy crap! Six and a half seconds!?

When I told the beginning lifeguard my time, he said, “I told you I’d help you out.” That statement raised my suspicions. After that next run, I asked the lifeguard at the end of the slide exactly how the race is timed. I had been assuming that a sensor at the beginning and end of the slide marked the start and finish of the race. Sadly, no. There is a sensor at the finish line, but the timer is started by the beginning lifeguard, manually.

I was disappointed. I thought I had been participating in a fair race against a fair clock. But, sadly, really I had just been running against whatever approximation of fairness the beginning lifeguard, (different guards at different times), felt like setting. That last, 6.5 second, result was just the beginning lifeguard cheating for me.

Sigh.

That really annoyed me. I’m too damn competitive for my own good. And apparently too damn naive.

Well, even if the “racing” aspect of the slide was a sham, I did have fun flying down that wet chute and rocketing out of the tunnel like a human cannonball. The ride was fun even if the results were bogus.

Bullgrit

We just got back from a mini vacation to Great Wolf Lodge. We spent two nights at the resort, giving us a half day, a full day, and another half day of indoor pool fun. Although I had read their web site, and knew generally what the whole concept was, I was even more impressed with the actual experience.

The big wave pool was the main fun for the boys. The various water slides were my favorite, (especially the Tornado). There’s a big ol’ wet playset/fort that played second favorite for everyone, and also another, non-wave, pool that got a little attention, here and there.

The playset/fort had a huge water bucket on top that would, every few minutes, dump a ton, (probably literally), of water down on the waiting crowd below. A bell would start ringing about 30 seconds before the water dump, and this would call all the kids, and many adults, (myself included), from all over the park to the target area. For something really so very simple, it was hilariously fun. People not interested in getting drenched by the pounding torrent would still turn and watch it every time the bell started sounding.

Right after each bucket dump, I’d go back over to the water slides. Calfgrit6 would sometimes go with me, and he loved the thrills. (Calfgrit10 is not so much into thrill rides, so he never joined us for any sliding.) As much fun as the slides were with Calfgrit6, the one I loved the most, CG6 was too small for: the Howlin’ Tornado. When the little Calfgrit was happy with the other water zones, I went back and back and back to the Tornado. I lost track of my times after 9.

The only bad thing about the whole water park experience is that I don’t like cold water. The park and water is supposedly kept at 84 degrees, but that means the water is over 10 degrees cooler than my body temperature. To me, that feels cold.

In the summer, I generally don’t get in the water — ocean, lake, or pool —  if the air temp is less than 90 degrees. And I prefer the water temp to have time to warm up over several hot days before jumping in. The Calfgrits seem completely comfortable jumping right into cool water, but it took me several minutes to acclimate. And it was about an hour before I felt comfortably comfortable going in and out of the various pools. And then, a break for lunch or dinner would set me right back to finding the water just too cold.

But even with the water coldness, the mini vacation was pretty darn fun. I’ll fill in some details soon.

Bullgrit

Saturday afternoon, me and my boys decided we wanted to go to one of the local parks for an hour or two. One thing we needed to do, though, before heading to the park, was stop by the home of one of Calfgrit10’s friends. The friend had left a couple toys at our house a few days ago, and we needed to return them.

So we loaded up in my truck and headed out. As we pulled into the friend’s driveway, I asked my boys if they’d like to invite the friend to come to the park with us. Calfgrit6 immediately said, “Yes,” but Calfgrit10 thought for a moment and said, “No, not today.” I have no idea why he said no.

Calgrit10 and I got out of the truck and walked up to the friend’s front door and knocked. When the friend and his mom answered, we talked for a few moments, and then the friend said, “You want to stay and play with me?”

“Yes!” Calfgrit10 said, enthusiastically.

The friend asked his mom, “Can Calfgrit10 stay and play?”

“Sure, if it’s alright with his dad,” she answered.

So I left CG10 there and went back to the truck. When I got in, I told Calfgrit6 that his brother was going to stay and play with the friend for a while. The look of disappointment that crossed his face broke my heart. He said, “I wanted to play with Calfgrit10 at the park.”

I’d made a big mistake. Damn. “I’ll play with you at the park,” I offered as consolation.

“Okay,” he said with a sign. “You’ll play tag with me?”

“Yes,” I assured him.

He still had a hang-dog look, so I tried to think of something we could do together that we might not normally get to do. Nothing like that came to mind immediately, but, not surprisingly to anyone who knows me, I did have the idea for us to go get ice cream together. “How about we go get some ice cream? Just you and me?” He said yes, but the idea didn’t seem to cheer him up much.

After picking up ice cream from Cold Stone, we went on to the park — the “dragon park,” which we named for this fixture:

At the park Calfgrit6 and I played tag all over the place. All around the three play areas, all up and in the play sets, up and down the ladders, poles, ramps, steps, and chains. How can a little guy half my height run me so ragged? He has to make three strides to my one, and he has to climb where I can just jump, but still, he could just keep going and going and going. I was worn slap out.

Granted, I got a bit competitive with my little opponent, jumping and climbing just short of performing parkour — I’m in a bit more athletic form compared to what I used to be. So, really, I wore myself out where I could have mostly coasted through the games of tag.

We played for over two hours, straight. Calfgrit6 screamed and laughed, I screamed and laughed, and I think he completely forgot that I had broken up his planned play time with his brother. Until we were walking out of the park back to my truck. We walked along the sidewalk, holding hands, and he said, “This was fun, daddy. Can we pick up Calfgrit10 and bring him here and play some more?”

I said, “How about we pick up Calfgrit10 and then go to CiCi’s for pizza?”

“Yeah,” he said, “that would be better. I’m getting hungry.”

Bullgrit

Continued from here.

It’s been right many years since I’ve seen The Sons of Katie Elder, but I could remember most of it. Strangely, though, I couldn’t remember how it ends. Turned out I did actually remember the ending, I just didn’t realize the John Wayne Western ending I remembered was for this movie. They’ve all kind of gotten a bit jumbled in my memory over the years.

Before the movie started, Calfgrit10 asked me about Westerns:

“Is that where they have the guns that they have to click to make them shoot?” he asked.

“Yes, they have to pull the hammer back before they pull the trigger to shoot it.” I explained. “It’s called single action. . .” and I explained how they work.

“And they use those rifles with the handle underneath?” he asked. He sort of mimed the action of a lever under a rifle.

“Yep, that’s called a lever action,” I explained, and I described what that action does mechanically.

He was remembering the time I took him out shooting guns with my father and brother, (and brogrit’s girlfriend).  He shot my dad’s single action revolver that day.

I inherited that .357 revolver, as well as a lever action .30-.30, when my dad passed. They’re up hidden in my office now. While Calfgrit10 and I were discussing the weapons of Western movies, I had the urge to go get the guns and show him. I wanted to say, “You know, I have a couple of those kinds of guns. Let me show you.” But, that’s too close to, “Hey, you wanna see my dad’s guns?” But those words are dreadfully dangerous. So I put the thought away. I could show him in a more appropriately reverent and calm moment some time later outside the excitement of movie time.

We watched the movie, and he seemed to enjoy it. He didn’t get up from the sofa with me, and he didn’t talk about other things during the scenes. That’s signs that he was engrossed in the experience, just like me.

Afterward, he said he liked the movie, and would be interested in seeing another Western with me some time. Great. I wish we could have watched the movie with my dad, and had three generations of us men loving a Western at the same time. That would have been cool. My dad would have really enjoyed that.

Bullgrit