Pretzel Anyone?

Beth and me at the Broadmoor


In just a few days, I will be heading to Aspen to spend some time with my BFF Beth. I met Beth when I was eleven...the year that Miss Malissa was my official referee camp counselor and the year we all sang Friends are Friends Forever in the back of the dining hall. No one knew all the words, but it was powerful nonetheless. Beth has remained a faithful friend through every imaginable event and circumstance over the past twenty-something years, and I am so very thankful to have her in my life. She is an encourager, a listener, a caring mom to her three kids, and a great wife to Mark. She also has an uncanny ability to throw up without making a sound. I'm not kidding. It's unnatural. She has given me permission to share this story because, quite frankly, it just isn't fair to keep it to ourselves anymore.

It's 1980-something...we're at Astroworld...a mid summer evening in Houston...about 173 degrees outside. Our gang of park-goers consists of our friend Julie, Beth, and myself. I would imagine our hair had probably settled a good five or six inches by this time, since it was late in the day and the humidity was at least 97%. I'm not sure what we were wearing, but I'm guessing "pinch rolling" and multiple pairs of socks might have been involved. As the park is closing, Beth decides she wants a large soft pretzel with mustard. I'm in agreement...no reason not to be. After partaking of the amusement park delicacy, we head for one last roller coaster. The fun ends, and we walk toward the exit to wait for our ride home.

So, here's the visual...Julie, Tiffany, and Beth (in that order...all with minor sunburns and looking very much like middle schoolers) sitting on a curb in the dark with an illuminated Astroworld sign behind us. I am doing my best to trade my squirt gun (no idea where this came from) for a stuffed animal. Finally, an upstanding gentleman agrees. He takes my squirt gun, proceeds to shoot me with it, and then runs out of the park with my gun AND his stuffed animal. At some point during the commotion, Beth taps me on the shoulder and says calmly, "I just threw up." With great compassion (my squirt gun has just been hijacked for crying out loud), I reply, "No you didn't." At which time, she points to the evidence hidden in the shadows of the Astroworld sign.

Let me just say this...the last time my dinner made an upward resurgence was the night before my first 9th grade basketball game. It was so violent that I had to schedule a full body massage the next day. I have literally willed myself out of ever experiencing such hardship again. But Beth? I knew that night at Astroworld that we would be friends for life. Anyone with THAT kind of talent is a rare gem and can be my roller coaster riding buddy ANY time!