You know how much I love you. I don’t even have to say it. But I want to thank you for having me last weekend… You were just what I needed–what I always need, let’s be real.
It had been six years since I walked your streets last. Six years since your lap bars kept me from falling 400 feet to my death. Six years since I questioned getting on Wicked Twister because the wind was making it wobble. Six years since my adrenalized screams added itself to your symphony of noise.
You are my very favorite place on Earth, you know that? I could talk about you for hours with my friends, which I’ve done before. Because I love metaphors, you’re like a religion and I, your dutiful missionary. I want everyone to know of your Greatness. Okay, I’m done with that…
But seriously, you’re awesome.
18 rollercoasters? Is that how many you have? One that hits 120 mph in four seconds and reaches 410 (or is it 420) feet in the air?
Oh, and you sit on an island surrounded by Lake Erie? Casual.
Don’t worry; I will be back… many, many times. I hope to have my bachelorette party under your metaphorical roof. I hope to bid my single life goodbye whilst free-falling down Power Tower.
My favorite part about visiting you is how I feel when I’m breathing your salty, lake air. Happy. Content. Excited. Warm. Energized. I don’t know where this comes from, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that, when I finally work up the nerve to sell all my possessions and find a nice, soft place under one of your rollercoasters to live indefinitely, you won’t have your employees kick me out for trespassing.
I promise to look as un-homeless as possible.