Six Flags has a key to my Honda -- and they can keep it

By Kevin Nielsen

September 20, 2005 | There exist three copies of my car key: one I carry with me, the other sits on a ledge above the coat rack at my house and the third belongs to Six Flags Magic Mountain in Valencia, Calif.

It was already a bad weekend, the Aggies had lost to Cal State-Northridge the night before, but there was hardly any traffic for the hour drive from Anaheim to Valencia that Saturday morning. I was mad about the $8 to park but it was sunny and we had arrived at the "grown-up" Disneyland.

The other 10 spring breakers and I had broken our college habits and arrived early enough to beat the long lines. We went to ride Goliath, who turned out to be a gentle giant eliciting screams of delight and whipping the warm California air through our hair. Next was the classic Psyclone, an old time wooden coaster with a top speed of 50 miles per hour. After the ride I still had the ever-important keys.

After taking our break on the Psyclone the group decided to split up and half of us went to ride the Scream. Not The Scream, just Scream, like Diddy.

The crowds had caught up with us so we waited about an hour snaking through the roped-off sidewalk onto the platform. As we sat on the floorless flying chairs and strapped ourselves in, what looked like the floor left, leaving us hanging over the gravel and trash-laden ground. As I rode through the extreme curves and inside-out loops my pockets were being pillaged, my khaki receptacles of trinkets were being thieved of shiny metal and door-opening power.

As I exited the ride I didn't notice any difference since my pockets aren't known to lose things, so I continued on my merry way. Batman the Ride was next followed by absurdly overpriced burritos. After the refreshing lunch break we split up once again. The four girls that remained went to wait for the Riddler's Revenge which was new and as such had a two-hour wait. Craig and I were the only ones remaining in the plaza and we wanted to go on some water rides since it was midday and the sun was baking whatever wasn't soaking wet.

We went to bumper cars first and there, with the horrendous crunching of rubber-padded electronic go-carts, I reached into my pocket and didn't feel my keys. My diaphragm dropped along with my jaw. I tore through my pockets like they were lined with gold. No keys.

I still had my change from the burrito place and I still had my change from the gas station where we bought drinks for the ride up, but the most important pieces of metal weren't there.

"What?" Craig asked as I hesitated to enter the line for the bumper cars.

"I don't have my keys," I replied. After his disbelieving response I pulled my pockets out and showed their emptiness except for the lint and now worthless coins.

We retraced the last hour at the burrito place and we tried to remember if I would have given them to the other group, but no. As we went through everything in our mind the immensity of the amusement park imposed itself on my mind and I had just about given up already.

I filled out the proper form, but as I was reminded about seven times during this ordeal, its not like they can stop the rides and strip search them for keys. As with most other places with thousands of people there were metal detectors and we checked with those guards to see if anything had been left. Nothing.

We went out the park to come back in and ask the guards outside about the cars in the lot. Well, as it turns out the $8 parking stub is actually valid for three days. I couldn't complain any more but I sure hoped it wouldn't be three days before I would leave since on the third day I had class back in Logan.

Craig and I decided to not tell the girls on the Riddler ride about the unfortunate key incident since they had come in another vehicle, luckily a minivan. It was still early in the afternoon so a couple more coaster rides to enjoy and then we could drop the bomb. We decided to go on at least one water ride then we waited for the girls to finish. After the Riddler we took a ride on the Ninja and the Viper which covered almost three hours of the afternoon.

Yelling on roller coasters helped to get rid of the anxiety of the uncertain but finally I had to tell them and we called the other group which we had been separate from just about the whole time. So four hours after I had realized I no longer had my keys I called my dad and got him to find a way to send the spare key down to California since I hadn't thought ahead.

When I checked for the last time at the lost and found they told me to leave a description of my car so the security guards could keep an eye on it overnight. The security guards were impressed that besides knowing my car was a blue Accord, I actually knew my license plate number. I left them with all their information and headed back to the group.

With just the minivan remaining we piled the 11 of us in. With four in the backseat and two on the floor the car was packed. The eleventh had to sit behind the back seat and he rode backwards for the hour drive. We made it back to the hotel in Anaheim without any further problems.

To take off the stress of the day we spent some time in one of the hot tubs at the hotel. After soaking our anxieties away the security guards came to close the pool and tubs at 10 p.m. As I passed one of the guards with my towel wrapped around my hips he gave a nod and said "Have a good night."

"Why not," I said. "It can't be any worse than today."

By that time the spare key was on its way to the John Wayne Airport in Anaheim thanks to my dad. Delta doesn't skimp on being a delivery service, either. For half the price of an actual seat on the plane you could send a key on a ring which would fit on, below or above a seat without causing any inconvenience to anyone. We retrieved the key the next morning and started on our return trip with an hour detour to pick up my car.

And so it is that the 30-day recovery period expired and I didn't get my keys back from Six Flags. Maybe someone points blindly at Hondas and tries to unlock them in the parking lot hoping to get lucky. Best of wishes to him, because I'm never going back.

NW
MS