That’s No Fun

Amusement parks.  They are a bit of a misnomer for me.  Nothing I find really amusing about them.  Oh, don’t get me wrong.  I did think they were a lot of fun for like a brief blip on what is my now aging timeline. Sometime in my childhood, where those years now seem like nano seconds.

The fun years, where I enjoyed amusement parks, began when I was like 7 or 8.  Our Catholic grade school, St. Denis, held its annual fundraiser, the May Fair, in it’s asphalt parking lot which doubled as our playground every other school day of the year. 

There were no jungle gyms, no swings, no nothing.  When that recess bell rang the school emptied out like a pack of rabid hound dogs who were on the scent of some varmint or other.  Or inmates from a prison that were on death row and have been given a reprieve. Or, well, you get the idea.

We ran free, wildlings that we were, and played games like tag, freeze tag, jump rope if someone thought to bring one, stick ball, or handball.. 

But I digress.  Back to the point.

Being a Catholic school meant they did not receive government funding which meant they had fundraisers to help defray their costs.

Someone got the brilliant idea to host a fair, replete with rides and games.  The carny folk would come into town and set up what looked like ancient, rickety rides.  Our parents, and clearly the faculty, felt that the chance to raise money outweighed any possible risks to life and limb of the children entrusted in their care.  When’s the last time this equipment was inspected? What are your credentials and experience operating this heavy machinery?  Was any child ever hurt? Questions never asked, I am sure.

That aside, we kids thought it was nirvana.  Oh, sorry. We are talking about a Catholic school, so let’s change that to heaven.

The best was when we got let out of school early to ride all the rides and play the games, the day before the fair opened to the public.   And, wait for it, for free!!  Looking back on it, we were probably their test rats, making sure everything ran smoothly.  Better to keep any injuries in the family before exposing the general public to any risk.

Such was my introduction to the world of rides.  But those rides were on the tame side.  The scariest thing was the Ferris Wheel.  And it wasn’t even all that high.  No roller coasters, or anything else that was so terrifying.  Just your run of the mill fair rides like, Tilt-a-Whirl, Scrambler, and maybe a Carousel.

With that as my foundation for amusement parks, I then graduated to a real amusement park.  It was our 7th grade field trip.  We went to Hershey Park.  This was the first time I had been to an actual amusement park.  Keep in mind that I was born in 1963.  Parents back then thought they were doing you a favor just taking you down the shore for a week in the summer.  The rest of the year, any entertainment was on your own.  Basic instruction was, “Go out and play and don’t come home until dinner.”

So, there I was.  Standing at the gates of Amusement Park Heaven.  Hershey Park.  Not only were there tons of rides, but tons of chocolate too.  Talk about a win-win.

The first thing my friends and I did was run to the Super Duper Looper.  It had just opened and it was the first of its kind roller coaster where it would, as the name suggests, send you upside down through a loop.  Now mind you, I had never been on a roller coaster before. Probably wasn’t a good idea, in hindsight, to start with the Super Duper Looper.  But you know.  My critical thinking skills were clearly not fully developed yet.

Terrifying doesn’t begin to describe what I felt.  When I got off the ride, Sister Walter Mathau (no, not her real name, but I really think Walter Mathau had an identical twin sister who became a nun)  asked me if I was ok.  I assumed that I was either a really gross shade of green, similar to the ocean at the Jersey shore, or else completely lacking in color as perhaps the blood had all drained out of me.  I had difficulty standing upright and was all wobbly.  My eyes were somewhat glazed over and had difficulty focusing.  And I thought for sure I was going to vomit.

Meanwhile, the imprint on my brain, was “Oh, don’t think I will be doing that again.”   This not amusing amusement park experience was then escalated even further when word spread that a boy in the grade below us was hanging by his hands to the seat of one of the mono-rail cars.  We all ran over to where the crowd had gathered and sure enough there he was.  Somehow he had fallen out of the mono-rail car and was gripping the seat with both his hands.  Until the mono-rail jolted and then sent him hurtling to the ground.  The good news was it was not very high up at that point where he fell.  He survived but was in a body cast for like a year.

At that point, my fondness for amusement parks started to take a serious, hard turn. And since my parents weren’t taking us to them, and there were no more class trips after what happened at Hershey Park, it would be another 6 or 7 years before I found myself at another amusement park.  And not just any park, but the mother of all amusement parks.  That’s right. Disney World.

I was 18 years old, a freshman in college.  My younger brother was 11.  My dad decided he was taking us to Disney World over Christmas for a whole week.  My three older siblings who no longer lived at home, were so bummed.  Our parents finally get around to taking us to a park, but they weren’t around anymore to benefit.

I was excited, even though my fondness for amusement parks had waned.  I mean, it was Disney World.  This had to be an amazing experience right?  Plus, I was 18 now, some of my critical thinking skills were working and I could figure out which rides I would be comfortable with and which I wouldn’t.  No Space Mountain, for instance.  Plus, that was the first year that Epcot Center opened.  And that sounded really cool.

And because this was the trip of a lifetime, my dad did not scrimp.  We stayed at one of the Disney resorts. It was the Treehouses, where you literally felt like you were staying in a treehouse.  So cool.  He even had the meal plan vouchers.  Top notch.

Now, going to Disney World requires a high degree of strategic, logistical, and tactical expertise.  One just doesn’t show up there without a map and plan of attack.  I, being 18, was certain I could lead us and had very definitive ideas of how to approach the whole week.  My dad, being the dad, thought that he was the General in charge of the troops.  This created a clash as what he saw as his subordinate’s attempt to assume greater power than was assigned. My mother was like Switzerland.  Completely neutral and happy to go where either one of us suggested. My brother was 11, so he pretty much had no say.

Once we worked through that power struggle, we proceeded to enjoy the perks of the park.

First up was Epcot.  And don’t you know, the first “ride” we went on left me, you guessed it, nauseous and dizzy.  It was a “visit” to China.  You stood in the big room with a 180 panoramic screen that took you on a “ride” of China without ever leaving your feet or that room.  Well, come to find out, that that sort of visual experience makes me have motion sickness.

From there on out I kept it pretty safe with rides like It’s a Small World and Pirates of the Caribbean.

Fast forward 3 or 4 years. I am visiting Ernie, who was my boyfriend at that time.  He was living in Rhode Island after graduating and landing a job there.  Let’s go to Rocky Point, he said.  It was an amusement park.

Argh.  “Ok,” I said. “ But I am not a big fan of amusement parks,” I told him.  I added that I particularly did not like roller coasters. 

“No problem,” he said.

We got there early.  Like, the very first people through the gate early.

Ernie points to a ride and says,  “Let’s go on this one.”

“What’s it do”, I asked?

Ernie said, “I don’t know. I think it just spins you around.”

The ride looked like a ferris wheel type thing but instead of being upright it was flat, horizontal with the ground. And the seats were caged in.

Since we were the first people through we had no idea what the ride was or what it did, as we didn’t yet see it in action.

My critical thinking skills should have kicked in.  I should have realized that I did not have enough information to make an informed decision.

But I decided to wing it and trust my boyfriend who seemed to think it was no big deal.

Wrong.

I should have known something was up when you are strapped into the seat and then a cage is lowered over you.  The ride starts to spin around alright.  But then, it starts to rotate upwards until it is indeed like a ferris wheel and it has gone from being horizontal with the ground to being vertical with the ground.  And it is whipping you around in a circle at roller coaster plunging level speed.

I was screaming at the top of my lungs, complete terror gripping me.  Ernie was in the cage with me and holding me but I was yelling at him, totally blaming him for luring me into what I was sure was a death trap.

The ride finally ended.  I vowed then and there to never go to anymore amusement parks.  I can’t tell you what else we did for the rest of that day.  But I did end up marrying Ernie, so I guess I didn’t blame him too much for that terrifying experience.

Amusement parks.  More like, Scare the Bejesus Out of You parks.  Give me a good book, a nice glass of wine, and I am good.  Amused even, if I am reading a humor book. Critical thinking skills finally operating at full capacity and message received.  No more amusement parks!