During the summer of 2012, you told yourself you’d never go back to Six Flags. Indeed, it’s the last place on the planet that you want to spend a 97 degree Wednesday. But it’s the only place your nephew wants to go for his birthday. So you go, but you tell yourself that this time you will at least have the good sense not to ride Aquaman. You arrive to learn that the very first ride your nephew wants you to ride with him is Aquaman. So you tell yourself it’s probably not as bad as you remember, and you ride it with him, and it’s every bit as bad as you remember, and you spend the rest of the day waddling about with squishy socks and a soggy pair of boxer briefs hugging your nether regions in a highly disconcerting way. Then you walk past the over priced souvenirs and tell yourself that at least you won’t be blowing money on that claptrap. And then later, just to get your kids to shut up for five freaking minutes, you find yourself buying a ridiculous plush penguin hat and a painted pink parasol. And then you tell yourself that you’re not going to tell yourself things anymore, because you’ve clearly been talking to an idiot.