Before I continue with my story I should tell you all that my dad having a heart attack is fairly common occurrence in our household. The fucking guy has heart attacks like most people have birthday parties. In fact at the time of this story I think he was already up to his 5th or 6th heart attack within a 5 year time span. Im glad to say that dad is now up to 9 heart attacks, 3 heart stints, and a quadruple bypass surgery and has been heart attack free for whopping 6 months.
Ok …so back to my story
By the time we arrived at the ride exit there were already several EMTs waiting to throw heart attack boy onto a stretcher. Apparently the guy monitoring the ride had his eye on our log for a while because our fat asses were tripping all kinds of fault sensors along the ride. I guess when dad had his heart attack the guy saw him clutch his chest on one of the video cameras and immediately called for the Disneyland paramedics. Luckily for them Splash Mountain is fairly close to a first aid station, so the poor bastards that had to carry my dad didn’t hurt themselves too badly.
At this point I was so humiliated that most of the events that occurred past the heart attack I have conveniently blocked out of my memory. The only thing I recall was that while in the first aid station my dad convinced a 20 sumthin medical student that was he was fine… and get this…the dipshit let my dad go back into the park without calling an ambulance or anything. Fuckin retard.
Oh wait…I lied… I do remember one other thing from the first aid station… There was a midget that was brought in right after my dad with a bad case of heat stroke. It was fuckin awesome! The poor guy looked like a sweaty ass Oompa Loompa… But I digress.
By this point we were all ready to call it a day. Having your dad die in the happiest place on earth doesn’t exactly make for a good vacation story. However dad insisted that we stay at the park and he would just take it easy for the rest of the day. So my sister and I decide to go off on our own for a little bit while mom and dad chilled out and got dad another frozen lemonade and churro. Without the use of the cripple pass the line times were ri-god-damn-diculous. We fuckin waited 3.5 hours to get onto Space Mountain…so not worth it. There was no way around it… we needed dad and his cripple pass to get us on the rides… oh and some lunch… .I was fuckin starving.
By this time dad looked like he was doing ok. He had all his color back and was walking around like nothing ever happened. Still we wanted him to take it easy for a while so we devised a little plan. Dad would go with us to cut to the front of the line with his pass, but just as we were about to board the ride he would tell the ride operator he wasn’t feeling well and my sister and I would still get to go on the ride. Haha!!! It was fuckin genius!…We must have hit up like 10 rides in 2 hours. Our vacation was back on track!
I guess after a couple hours of nearly getting on rides dad began to get a little bit envious. He begged, pleaded and swore up and down that he was fine, and he just wanted to go on the Indiana Jones ride once. (which just so happens to be his favorite ride of all time) Considering that there weren’t any 100 foot drops or anything else that could possibly kill him we reluctantly decided to let him go. So we all stroll right to the front of the line being cursed along the way by the people who have been standing in line for hours, and 5minutes later we are on the ride. Everything was going great, Indy himself greeted us as we entered the temple and good ol dad was as giddy as homo at a Boy George concert. As we approached the snake pit dad looked right at my mom and said and I quote “I love this part”. Now I don’t know if in the 5 seconds that it took for him to say that and actually get to the part of the ride he loved so much, if he forgot what was coming up or just went completely brain dead. But as soon as the giant snake lunged out in front of out car dad had another fucking heart attack.
I know that this may sound fucked up but I was pissed. Not because I had to spend the remainder of that day hanging out in a hospital instead of hanging out with Goofy and Donald. Not because we were dumb enough to let him on a ride after the first heart attack. No… I was pissed because he had been on that ride at least 30 times and he knew damn well that snake was gonna jump out. Its not really something you can forget about either… it’s a big fucking snake and you can see it from a mile away before it even jumps out. Im still flabbergasted that he had a heart attack over that stupid shit… Sad thing is there was a lady that looked at least 145 sitting a row in front of us, and she didn’t even fucking flinch when the snake jumped out.
Anyway… dad was taken to the hospital stabilized and released a few hours later and that was pretty much day two of our vacation from hell. Stay tuned for day three… believe it or not dad still has a little something up his sleeve…and its not another heart attack.
