Hershey Part Seven

And now the last chapter...

Part 7: Plunged Into Night
I stood with my friends, staring up at the bright orange behemoth known as Fahrenheit. Hannah and Courtney wanted to ride it, but Mr. Burke and everyone else were going on the gondola ride. I had already gone on that, and so had Amanda, who didn't want to ride it again. I wasn't sure what to do; should I ride the roller coaster, like I said I would? After some deliberation, I made a decision.
I would not ride the Fahrenheit. The sight of that vertical drop filled me with a sense of unease, and I chickened out. Instead, I would ride The Monorail with Amanda. I felt a little foolish, I had told everyone I would ride that coaster, but my bravado had been false and I had broken my word. But it didn't matter, because at that moment, I had realized that being with my friend was more important than anything. She would be moving to Utah that summer, and I wanted to spend as much time as possible with her.

As we made our way to get in line, I bought a lemonade. Employees wandered around the park pushing carts filled with cups of the cold drink, along with other amusement park snacks, such as cotton candy. I paid three dollars for a cup, but it was worth the money, because it was the best lemonade I had ever tasted. It was sweet, tart and very refreshing. It wasn't too sugary, too watery or too sour. It was perfect, and much better than the Pepsis and Gatorades I'd been drinking all day.
Amanda and I boarded the monorail, with the Blue Cross Blue Shield logo plastered on the side. The seats were hard, white and institutional. I could understand why a medical insurance company was sponsoring it. Another family boarded the ride and then, it started. It was slow, gentle and boring. To pass the time, Amanda and I gossiped about our day and admired the scenery. The park was starting to shut down, and was virtually empty now. It was creepy, for all those glittering lights, and had a vaguely haunted feel. I wondered if the ghosts that resided in the park were wandering now. The thought made me shiver.
I sipped my lemonade, and I tried to shake the uneasiness I felt. The ride itself was well lit, but the world around it was being plunged into night. We actually left the park at some point, and rode over train tracks, past the factory. This was rather creepy, as we were outside the glittering safety of Hershey's Chocolate world, and out in the doom and gloom of the real world. But even inside the park, there was still a vaguely sinister feeling, as there always is at closing time in an amusement park.

We re-entered the park, and passed the Animal Reserve. We howled to the wolves, hoping they would hear us and answer. They did not, much to our disappointment. They were no longer nocturnal, the park's schedule had changed them.
After the ride was over, we went to meet everyone. We left the creepier parts of Chocolate World, and into the more well-lit areas close to the park's entrance. We passed a stand selling turkey legs. I couldn't help myself, I bought one. It was hot, greasy, salty and delicious. I shared it with my friends, though I eventually had to tell a few people to leave me alone and stop picking at my food without my permission. I prefer it when people ask me, before they start acting like damned vultures. But it was good meat, and if I had not shared it I could not have finished it. After I stripped it of viable flesh, I went into the gift shop, wiping grease off my fingers.

I wanted a souvenir, something to remind me of my wonderful day. This was the last time, I would go to Hershey with Miss Westbrook, maybe the last time I would go to Hershey ever. I called my mom, asked her if I could use the rest of the money she had given me. She said I could. I bought a small brown bear that had the word "Hershey's" embroidered in silver. It was $11.99, but luckily, Amanda lent me a dollar to cover it. Miss Westbrook and I named him Herschel. I'm holding him now, as I type; the tag is still in his ear.

We finally left the park, exhausted after a long day. I felt some sorrow as we left. I also hoped I would get a seat to myself.
On the bus, I found my bag had fallen to the floor and slid to the back of the bus. I growled to myself about the damn bus driver and the damn bus. Then I growled even more, when I realized that the search for my scattered had lost me my seat. The spot I had claimed was taken by someone else, who was hogging the whole damn thing. I should have put my backpack down on the cushion, claiming it, before I got up to search. So, I ended up sitting with Olivia instead, right across from my original seat. Because I had to share a seat, I knew I would not sleep well.

The ride home was long and strange. I slept uneasily, my back and hips flaring in pain, my neck screaming in agony. I could not get comfortable! I scooched down in my seat, rested my legs up against the seat in front of me. I would sleep fitfully, wake, then sleep again. The bus was oddly quiet. It was the sort of silence one experiences after a long journey. The sort of silence caused by pure exhaustion.
We stopped at a strange gas station; I remember that we stopped because the driver needed to get some food. The line for the bathroom had a family that did not speak any English. They cut in front of us in the bathroom, or did we cut in front of them? I cannot recall; I felt so dazed and groggy. I wanted a snack, but had no more money.

We returned to the bus. Someone's shoes smelled like wet dog and cheese. Miss Westbrook had tried to prevent this from happening (in 2007, there was so much foot stank that the whole bus smelled like New Jersey) Though I can't say anything about foot odor, as my feet can be pretty noxious themselves. One girl complained of having blisters. Mr. Burke explained that because her shoes had gotten wet, she had gotten blisters. So that was why I had blisters the previous year! This year thankfully, my feet were unscathed.

A bunch of the kids were sitting in the aisles of the bus, whispering into the night, I longed to join them; I felt left out. But I wanted to sleep so badly, I couldn't keep my eyes open. I do not recall if I dreamed or not. I think Morpheus and I did not meet that night. Or if we did, I don't remember it. The night was a very surreal blur. While I can remember so many details of the drive to Hershey, I remember so little of the ride home.
Then, as the sun danced across the horizon, bringing a pink and gold dawn, we arrived in Vermont. By five AM, we arrived at the high school. It was over. Our weekend was over. It was Sunday June 1st, Hershey and my experiences there seemed very far away. We exited the bus, stretching our limbs and rubbing our eyes. Belongings were gathered, and we waited for rides in silence. It may have been drizzling, but for all I know I could be confusing 2008 with 2007.

My mother picked me up. I showed her my bear, but neither she nor I said much. I felt like a refugee from a strange land. I wanted to fall into my bed, I wanted to pet my cats. I'd had a fun weekend, but it was over now. It felt like it all happened in another country, another lifetime. After all that planning, all the anticipation, it was over, faded into nothing more than a memory.