Getting Drunk On The Titan

If Six Flags gets their liqour license (read about that here) then the following story (a work of fiction) is more likely to happen.

Finishing my third $6.00 beer (some watered down Coors Lite — tap the Rockies, boyeee!) I let out a massive belch right before boarding the Titan. I knew I was a little buzzed, but Barry was like, “Come on, dude. You’re a tank,” so I jumped into the first car with him, and yelled, “Let’s get this [expletive deleted] party started, [expletive deleted]!” Some old lady with her kids looked at me like I’d just killed a puppy, but I didn’t care, I was totally ready to ride.

We started up the lift hill, and I was like, “wow, this is really high,” and I started to get a little dizzy after abour 20 feet. Barry was like, “Dude, don’t look down,” and I totally did, and I thought I could see our car but it made me more dizzy. And then we’re like at the top of the hill, and Barry’s like, “Dude, we’re totally drunk on the Titan!” and I’m like “yeah.”

As we’re heading down the first drop, I feel my last beer coming back up. I totally spewed halfway down the hill, and everything headed backwards. The kids in the car behind us, then that old lady and another kid, and finally those two hotties we were checking out in the queue. Everyone was covered in my Coors Lite and taco flavored vomit, and we’d just started the ride.

Although I felt better already, I knew I still had to ride through about a minute more. Barry was next to me screaming, “Dude, you totally lost it!” but by the second drop, he’d lost his lunch, too, right in my face.

By the time we finally came to the end of the ride, I’d spewed twice more, Barry lost it again, and a few of the other riders tossed because we did. When we pulled into the station, the whole group waiting to board looked shocked, but the attendent just sighed, rolled her high-school eyes and picked up the phone to call the maintaince folks. “Lou, we’ve got a code yellow — yes, again.”