We have the weekend off and the station hooked us up with free tickets to the local Six Flags “Worlds of Adventure” park, so we spent the day there yesterday. This may not have been the best move I could have made, rep-wise.

I ride a motorcycle to work and have a bad attitude about my job, and that has somehow translated to me having an image as being something of a bad-ass. In fact, that’s what my co-worker Joe calls me: “Billy-Joe Bad-Ass.” Now, deep down inside I’m just a cuddly ol’ teddy bear with a heart of marshmallows and a lunchbox with rainbow pony stickers, but who am I to argue? So I let them think I’m a half step removed from being a Hells Angel and people pretty much stay out of my face. It works for me. But this weekend blew my cover.

You see, I have a thing about heights: I don’t like them. I also have a thing about getting dizzy, also about being strapped into immobilizing cages, also about being flipped upside down. These are all things that tend to happen at amusement parks, especially when you’re riding roller coasters. Which is what we were doing.

When we got to the park, my co-workers Kara, Lance and Joe all made a beeline for the nearest coaster and we all got in line. As the line inched forward, I spent the time checking out the insanity that was this roller coaster: 37 loops, 18 negative G switchbacks, a 500-foot section of missing track where the train leapt the chasm over a firepit filled with crocodiles, tunnels filled with pygmies armed with poisonous blowdarts… This rollercoaster was suicide, I’m telling you. So when we got to the front of the line and it was our turn to board, I did the only sensible thing possible: I took the Chicken Exit.

And thus did my rep die a shameful death.

I spent the rest of the day trying to live it down. I did ride three of the tamer coasters that day, but I took a pass on riding any of the more death-defying choices, and so Joe, Kara and Lance frequently helpfully suggested I visit the children’s section of the park or pointed out the occasional carousel that might not be going too fast for me. It was a sad day for my rep, and I’m sure I’m only compounding the damage by admitting it here where other co-workers will read it.

But I’m man enough to admit I’m a Nancy-boy. Mainly because there were too many witnesses to deny it…

Speaking of witnesses, here are some pictures from the day. As usual, click the thumbnails for full-size images:

Joe, Kara, and Lance thinking “Oh great, the Nancy-boy is taking our picture”

Joe mocking me by pretending he has to puke on a ride I wouldn’t go on, while Kara laughs at both his mockery and my cowardice.

Joe waving at me from yet another ride I wouldn’t go on.

And finally, me on one of the few rides I wasn’t afraid of.