Here's how amusement park thrill ride turned into disappointment

It was going to be epic, because everyone said it was awesome.

In those days, we used that word a lot: Awesome. But the Tidal Wave ride at Marriott's Great America (in those days, we called it "Marriott's") was the newest, greatest ride at Northern California's new and leading theme park when I was in high school.

I lived in Eureka, six hours north of the park, so the trip was a major undertaking. The theme park's reputation made it a desirable location for any teenager, but the addition of the Tidal Wave – a roller coaster that had a loop in the middle and was designed to take off with maximum force and acceleration – made the park a must-visit attraction.

A year after the ride opened, I made the long trip with a group of friends from church. It was a junk-food-eating, non-sleeping trip that included a full day on the various coasters and other attractions at Great America.

Especially the Tidal Wave. Because everyone was talking about it.

I wasn't a huge fan of roller coasters, but I didn't avoid them. The thrill that others got didn't really translate to me, although it was fun to say I rode whatever famous ride there was.

Growing up in Humboldt County, that meant such rides as the Zipper and the Scrambler, the kind that were part of the annual county fair or whatever carnival came to town.

Great America was different. It was huge; it had permanent rides.

And it had the Tidal Wave, the most epic ride in the world.

We arrived at the park and the line for the Tidal Wave was so long that we decided to check out the rest of the park, getting on many of the rides and undoubtedly eating unhealthy food while keeping an eye on the line.

Which got longer.

Finally, my friends and I decided to get in line for the Tidal Wave. Sure, it would take a long time, but it was worth it. It was wickedly fast and took off with such force that it took your breath away.

The line was agonizingly slow. When you're a teenager, it's worse. When it's hot, it's even worse.

Ten minutes. Thirty minutes. Forty minutes.

After about an hour in the Santa Clara sun, we reached the front. We were going to ride the Tidal Wave.

I was scared, but knew that the ride didn't take long. While waiting, I repeatedly watched it blast forward, go through the loop, then return, backward. People got off with huge smiles, saying how great it was.

Finally, we were at the front of the line. I made my way into a seat and was buckled in.

Awesomeness coming.

5, 4, 3 . . .

"Please make sure you are secure in your seat," the ride operator said, as we waited for the thrill of our lives.

I looked down to see the belt – and the ride took off.

It launched with so much force, I couldn't lift my head. Full speed ahead, into the loop. Everybody screamed. My head was stuck, looking at my lap.

I moaned with an inhuman groan, trying to lift my chin off my chest.

The famous "maximum force" of the ride left me unable to move. I spent the 20 or so seconds – the time everyone else was raising their arms in ecstasy – staring at my lap.

The ride ended. My friends were thrilled. They survived the Tidal Wave! And the line was even longer, so we weren't going to ride it again.

I rubbed my sore neck.

My reaction? The Tidal Wave was overrated. All it did was make you stare at your lap and groan.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Dad gives advice on his special day

Who gives better advice than good ol' Dad?

Nobody!

That's why every year on this date (the third Sunday in June), I turn this column over to the greatest advice columnist in history.

Not Dear Abby. Not Ann Landers. Not Dear Prudence.

Dad.

The old man takes over with (possibly) real questions from (maybe) real readers. Do you want advice on this, the holiest day on the fathering calendar? Read on.

Dear Dad: My husband and I recently moved into an apartment that is perfect in every way except one: The upstairs neighbors are loud.

They stomp around at night. They play their TV loud. My husband pounds on the ceiling with a baseball bat, but they stomp on their floor in response. Should we complain to the landlord? My husband wants to take care of it without involving management, but I feel that's not safe. Please advise.

— Sleepless in Suisun City

Dear Sleepless: Neighbors can be a problem, although sometimes it works out, which reminds me of a kid who lived down the street from me when I was about 10 years old. His name was Jack. Or John. Something like that. Anyway, he thought he had the coolest bike in the neighborhood and probably did – but coolest didn't mean best.

One time my brothers and I built a ramp to let us jump over things: wagons, other bikes, even our youngest sister. This kid – maybe his name was Scott? – decided to make the jump. He went as fast as he could and as he was airborne, his feet came off the pedals and he completely missed the landing ramp and crashed. We laughed so hard we couldn't stand, but he knocked out his front teeth and bled all over the street. He had to get fake teeth, then his family moved away. Wait. Maybe his name was Jerry. Anyway, it was crazy.

Dear Dad: I sent Christmas gifts to my grandchildren in December, but never got a thank-you card. I believe you should always thank the sender of gifts, so they at least know you received them. Should I bring this issue up to their mother (my daughter)? I don't want to interfere, but I feel like they should send cards.

— Anxious Grandma

Dear Anxious: The best gift my grandma ever gave me was a gift card to Sam Goody that I used to get Van Halen's "1984" album. I guess it was probably the Christmas of 1984, right? I played that thing over and over and over. My friends liked "Jump" the best, but I was a big fan of "Panama" and, of course, "Hot for Teacher." I can see why people got tired of David Lee Roth, but the "Van Hagar" years were never as good for the band as when Roth was their lead singer. In my opinion, at least.

Dear Dad: I have a medical condition that permits me to get a handicapped parking sticker and because I don't have an obvious physical disability, people often shout at me. Please inform your readers that not every disabled person is obvious.

— Don't Shout at Me

Dear Don't Shout: Here's what I don't understand: Why people back into spots in parking lots. Those lots are designed so you have a lot of room to back out! It reminds me of when my dad used to shout at other drivers. He was convinced that Oregon had the worst drivers in the world, so every time he'd see someone with an Oregon license plate, he'd start cursing. That was while he was smoking his cigars, too, so it was sometimes hard to understand what he was saying. Funny that we didn't think anything of smoking in cars back in those days.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

My brilliant plan will revolutionize movies and TV

Sometimes, advances are so obvious that it's hard to know how we got along before them.

Take toilet paper, for instance.

Lunchables. Cup holders in vehicles.

I'm about to propose what is the next.

Years from now, you'll remember first hearing this idea in 2018. Your grandchildren won't believe it didn't exist before that.

I call for the creation of the TV/Movie Recap Person.

Relax. You'll like it.

I got the idea from cable TV news, which will report the same news over and over. But when breaking news happens – when the situation keeps changing – the networks have a technique.

"Here's what we know now," a serious broadcaster will say. And then the broadcaster recaps everything important. A plane crash or a military invasion or a stock market crash or a Kardashian pregnancy. They summarize the details, give the timeline and say what's next. It maybe takes a minute, then they resume the news.

In, out, updated.

Good idea, right?

So why not use this for movies and TV shows, which so often get confusing?

I'm not calling for a revolution, I'm calling for something similar to when TV networks began showing the clock and score during sporting events, providing us something that we should have had all along. Clarity.

This is something we need.

Or at least, it's something I need. I often get lost while watching movies and TV shows, wondering whether I missed some important dialogue or didn't catch the return of a character from earlier. The people on the screen know what's happening. Mrs. Brad often knows what's happening. I don't.

The TV/Movie Recap Person could change that. A quick recap.

In, out, updated.

Consider, for instance, if this were a thing during the run of "Breaking Bad." You would be watching an episode, not sure exactly what was happening – wondering if you were supposed to know what was happening – and the recap person would suddenly come on screen.

"Here's what we know now: Walter continues to get more focused on making meth, even though he seems like he has enough money. The mystery is whether he actually does. That boy who was looking for spiders is dead . . . still . . . and Todd seems like a sociopath, but we don't know yet. Todd just told Walter that he has contacts in prison, although we don't know what that means. It looks like Walter thinks the prison connection could work, but we know it won't. Oh, one more thing, . . . that guy who played the DEA agent and looks familiar? He was on "Longmire," which you watched for a while. Now back to the show."

Makes sense, right?

You have the one-minute interruption every half-hour or so, which resets the plot and explains everything that's happening. It reminds you of what you forgot. It clarifies what you should know. It lets you know that the audience is supposed to be confused by something. And it cleans up those random actors who look so familiar, but you can't place without going on the internet.

Here's the best part: If you don't need it, skip it. Jump ahead with your remote.

It's perfect! How did we ever survive without the TV/Movie Recap Person?

This works with movies, TV series, even documentaries.

The TV/Movie Recap Person is what America needs, to save us from all the maddeningly complex storylines and questions that arise during a film or TV show.

You're welcome. Now enjoy a Lunchable.

How did we ever survive without them?

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Another inspiring, undelivered graduation speech

The text of Brad Stanhope's once-again undelivered graduation speech to whatever Solano County school would invite him:

Thank you for that long standing ovation and congratulations to the Class of 2018 at (insert school here)!

Graduation is both the end of a long journey and the beginning of a longer journey. But let's treasure the moment. Let's enjoy the present.

It's called "the present" because it's a gift. And because the phrase "the present" means now. Both of those are true, but the second is more true.

Anyhoo, congratulations on finishing high school. Remember, if this is the extent of your education, you have done something that 84 percent of Americans couldn't do. At least those were the statistics in 1890, which was 128 years ago. It's probably different now.

For those of you who are advancing to college – whether it's community college, a four-year school or the electoral college – you are about to advance to a memorable part of your life consisting of toga parties, beer pong and wild escapades, if the movies I've seen are any indication. My memory of college is of working and doing homework, but apparently I was an exception.

Here's some advice from someone well down the road from you: Enjoy college. Learn. Make friends. Avoid making life-changing mistakes. Collect stories. Try to graduate. Realize college is spring training for the rest of your life.

Here's the part about being 18 that you might not appreciate now: You will look back on this period for the rest of your life. At least until you lose your memory.

Anyway, as today's commencement speaker, I have some tips to prepare you for adulthood.

First, work: Remember the guy who said, "Do something you love and you'll never work a day in your life"?

That guy never had a real job.

Even if you land your dream job straight out of high school (aside from LeBron James and Taylor Swift, few of us do), there will be difficult days. There will be tasks you don't enjoy. There will be difficult co-workers. There will be dumb bosses.

Work anyway. Do a good job anyway. The best way to succeed is to do a good job, require little maintenance and outperform expectations. That's true in your teens, 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s and beyond.

Remember, your job at 20 or 30 is unlikely to be your job at 40 or 50. That's called a career: In the 21st century, our jobs change, but our character in them remains.

Most who find joy in work know that it's work. You don't go to play, you go to work (unless, of course, you're in theater. Then your work may be a play. But I digress.).

Now, about love: Sometime in the next decade or two, you will likely fall in love. Enjoy that. But don't assume it's easy.

Like with everything else great in life (good health, wealth, good career), relationships blossom for people disciplined enough to do the hard work. In a relationship, that means learning to communicate difficult things, finding common interests, always being teammates.

Remember that. The other person – if you marry them – is your teammate. So be a good teammate. Be their biggest fan. Work on the team. Stick together. It's worth it.

There are other tips: Exercise. Eat well. Make some crazy decisions. Take some risks. Have fun.

You're going into the world. Spring training is over. The regular season begins.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.