Pet Peeve Monday

Oh, what a weekend. Wow. Just. Wow. I went to Atlanta with about 20 youth from church for one last summer BASH, during which we went to a Braves game, Six Flags, church, and the Varsity. Naked dog walking, anyone? And then we came home and I slept for 11 hours and woke up fearing the whole thing was a dream.

While at Six Flags (from 10am - 10pm) on Saturday for 12 hours, I noticed a strange and Peevish phenomenon. And since we were there for 12 hours, I had plenty of time to notice said phenomenon. Like 12 hours of time. To notice. For 12 hours. At Six Flags.

All the friendly Six Flags employees, when ending a transaction, a conversation, or before sending you plummeting to your death on one of their roller coasters, would pleasantly say "Have a Six Flags day!"

Pardon me? What?

What exactly does "have a Six Flags day" mean? To me, Six Flags is synonymous with terror, death, puke, racing pulse, long lines, over priced food, crowds, screaming, fear, heat, long lines, more terror, and finally - death.

So when you wish me a "Six Flags day", are you saying, in short, that you wish my day to be filled with all those things? Really? Is that what you're saying?

In that case, kind sir, I wish a "Six Flags day" to you and yours, too.

Did I mention that we were there for TWELVE HOURS?!?!