Dear Mr. Six (and yes, I reluctantly learned your real name),
You might have thought you pulled a fast one, that your secret would remain buried in the annals of early 2000s commercial history. But after years, yes, years, of pondering, it finally dawned on me. I’ve uncovered your truth.
Blame it on a year of solitude, confined to my childhood bedroom, that granted me excessive time for introspection. Or rather, countless hours spiraling down internet rabbit holes so profound, not even the Cheshire Cat could guide me back.
It began innocently enough, with a nostalgic check-up on Loonette the Clown from The Big Comfy Couch (rest assured, she’s thriving). This trip down memory lane led to other pressing childhood inquiries: “Did Heinz actually sell purple ketchup?” and “What was that leg-skipping contraption called?” (Skip-It, in case you were wondering). Hours melted away, and amidst this sentimental haze, a critical question emerged:
“Is the dancing old man from the Six Flags commercials still kicking?”
That’s when the bombshell dropped, Mr. Six. Not only are you alive and well, but you’re not even old! The energetic, elderly persona I idolized on screen was just a cleverly disguised performance. Your true identity: Danny Teeson, a then 45-year-old dance choreographer hailing from England (fine, I admit, I know your name now, but it was out of sheer principle).
Let’s be clear: my issue isn’t with you portraying a character in a commercial. I’m not oblivious to the fact that Flo from Progressive, Lily from AT&T, and even the Geico gecko are actors. But, I never aspired to be like a gecko. You, however, were different.
Back in 2004, when you burst onto our screens, I was a naive child, blissfully unaware of life’s complexities. And, I’m slightly ashamed to admit, your infectious moves to Vengaboys’ “We Like To Party” were genuinely inspiring. I remember thinking, with childlike wonder, how incredible it would be to possess that same zest for life and dance when I reached my twilight years. This “Six Flags Guy Dance” was iconic.
But now, the illusion is shattered. The joy you sparked was, dare I say, fraudulent. You’re my personal Lance Armstrong, and this is where I dramatically discard my metaphorical Livestrong bracelet. And Vengaboys, I’m sorry, but “We Like To Party” is forever tainted.
The revelation stings, leaving a scar that may never fully heal. For days, I’ve been plagued by doubts, questioning the authenticity of every elderly person I encounter. Just yesterday, at the grocery store, I may have accidentally (or not) knocked a cane out from under a bonnet-clad woman, simply because her elderly aesthetic seemed a tad too performative. Okay, she fell and possibly fractured her hip, but the doctors weren’t entirely convinced it wouldn’t have happened eventually, so I consider myself in the clear.
I sincerely hope that one day, forgiveness will find its way into my heart. And if, upon reading this, you believe that two lifetime passes to every Six Flags park might expedite this healing process, I would, with great reluctance, accept.
Your Disillusioned Former Fan,
Josh
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