Rescue 911

Recently, our family sat down for a leisurely lunch at Chick-Fil-A. Well, correct that. Recently, two-thirds of our family sat down for a leisurely lunch at Chick-Fil-A. The other third wanted to play on the restaurant's indoor playground. That third was not myself or my wife. You do the math.

So Rebecca and I were midway through a conversation when I had what I call a "What's that, Lassie? Timmy fell down the well? Let's go, girl!" moment.

Don't ask how. It was one of those parental instinct things. I thought I heard a high-pitched wail that resembled my daughter at abject panic. Or it could have just been the shattering of glass at the indoor playground from the screams within.

I raced into the indoor playground. I could hear Rachel, but I couldn't see her.

"Where are you?" I called.

"Right here," she replied.

Well, that was helpful. I couldn't see her. I knew she was in the general vicinity of "up there."

"Move over where I can see you!" I told her. Two little hands clutched the netting about ten feet above my head. Tears streamed down her face.

Let's see, what could I say that would show I was fully in control of the situation?

"Can't you come down?" Yeah, good one, dad.

"I'm scared!"

She was on a blue ledge. Her teddy bear, Joanie, lay, apparently uninjured on the floor the next level down. Joanie, apparently fearing an incident just like this, wore a red life jacket that had come with a press release to my office. Joanie was calm. Rachel, however, was not. I realized my voice needed to remain calm and measured, even if I didn't feel that way inside.

"Sweetheart, sit on the ledge. Let your feet dangle." It really wasn't that far of a jump.

Rachel threw one leg over the side, but refused to dangle the other. "I don't want to go to the hospital!" she cried.

Well, that was a bigger leap than the one I was going to ask her to make, but never mind. My wife sat dejected in another part of the playground equipment with a look on her face that seemed to say 1)"This is the second time you've gotten stuck on Chick-Fil-A playground equipment" and 2) "I'm suffering from vertigo and you have got to be kidding me!"

Desperate times called for desperate measures. I eyed a plastic slide that seemed to make three twisting turns from near where Rachel was down to the safety of where I stood. What went down had to go up, didn't it?

I discarded my shoes and started hauling my 6'2" frame up the slide. It was no easy task. For one thing, every time I made a turn, my dress slacks would slip and I'd start sliding back down. So I stopped, pulled my dress slacks above my knees and resumed my knee-bumping climb. It wasn't easy and by the time I reached the top, I was wheezing like Queen Latifah trying to fit in a size 6 dress!

Lo and behold, there was Rachel right above me! I thrust up my hands. She grabbed them. I pulled her down. I instructed her to pick up Joanie and I sent them down the slide from whence I came.

"Are you okay?" asked my wife from below. "Yeah, I just need to catch my breath!" I wheezed. Three minutes later, I slid down and immediately went for a refill of lemonade.

If Rachel gets stuck on a Chick-Fil-A playground a third time, I think it's the fire department's turn.