Underwire Blowout

At California Adventure on Thursday, my family persuaded me to go on the Tower of Terror ride. Basically, the idea here is that you are in a ghostly hotel on a broken elevator, which heads up and then ---- and this is the allegedly "fun" part ---- rushes down some 12 stories. It does this a few times, so that you get to really appreciate the feeling of your stomach flying out through your mouth. When the elevator gets to the top of the hotel, the doors open and you see the whole park. They do this to ensure that you know just how high you are before you fall. On the first ride, we sat in the back and I stomped my foot so hard when we dropped that some nice man sitting next to me may never walk the same again. We went on the ride early in the morning and when I got off I secretly swore that I would never go again.

But as the afternoon unfolded, the boys wanted to go again. My rotten sister and mother would not say no and so there I was, riding it again. I could have said no, of course, but this would require that I admit my cowardice in front of my mouthy 6 year old son. So I boarded the elevator knowing full well that I would not enjoy the trip. This time, we got to sit on the front row, allowing us perfect view of the park below us. I sat in the corner (hoping this would afford me some safety). I made my mother sit front and center, reasoning that she has already lived a full life. JT screamed with happiness while sitting next to me. I just prayed it would end quickly.

We survived the ride........but I blew out an underwire in my bra. I realize that some readers are under the impression that the underwire was under strain prior to the Tower of Terror, but you'll never convince me.