As I was biking to and from work last Friday, I listened to an excellent edition of This American Life. The subject was amusement parks, and it was hilarious (and even a little inspiring).
One of the segments played voicemails that listeners had left about their most poignant amusement park memories, many of which had to do with being vomited on.
I don’t like amusement parks. Never have. They’re hot, sticky, plastic places, “the first toxic great excrement of a hyperreal civilization.”
But, as a youth pastor, I had to spend at least one day every summer at an amusement park. So, I had a secret plan, that I will now confess to the world: