A lesser highlight of our trip was the famous Facepalm Jesus. He was a meme for awhile, but he exists in real life as well, at the Oklahoma City National Memorial. He seemed exasperated at our presence.
After that we went to Wayne Coyne’s House (really!), but he wasn’t home.
Once when I was six, my parents took us to Six Flags. I don’t remember very much about how the day went, but I remember one incident pretty clearly.
At some point we came across some mascots, and one of them was Tweety Bird. I don’t remember ever liking Tweety Bird that much, as he’s horribly deformed and ugly (my favorite Looney Tune character was Speedy Gonzales, for what it’s worth), but for some reason I must have been caught up in the moment and ran over to give Tweety a hug.
When I returned to where my parents were standing a few feet away, my mom looked suddenly horrified and in a blur of incomprehension I felt someone pressing napkins against my face and people asking if I was alright, my mom reassuring strangers that everything was fine, it’s just blood.
So for some reason after giving Tweety Bird a hug, my parents tell me that blood was pouring down my face, which looked especially macabre because I was grinning and oblivious. This was many years ago, so some questions will never get answered. For one, I don’t know why I didn’t feel a thing. More importantly, my parents still can’t figure out what Tweety had done to me exactly. We speculate that there might have been a pin or something sticking out from the costume, lined up perfectly with my face. The more sinister theory was that a massively creepy psychopathic deviant was in that costume and got his kicks from sticking kids in the face with sharp things. In short, Tweety was trying to kill me.
I don’t think I have any sort of PTSD symptoms as a result of this assault, but it will always be a mystery. The only lasting effect I think it had on me is that I’m not particularly fond of mascots anymore. I always seem less than thrilled to be around them.