Fox and Squirrel Pt. 6

Part 6: Positively Drenched
We found ourselves speeding down the tunnel, water splashing around us. The lenses of my glasses were splattered, so I could not see, and all I could hear was the roaring of the water. Acacia and I screamed in delight. The turns and dips were sharp and sudden, and I had no idea when we'd end up dumped in the basin of the Mega Wedgie, or what would happen once we were in there.
Then, with a splash (I warn you now, this word and all it's variants are going to show up a lot during this chapter), we shot out into the large basin, which is shaped a lot like a bundt cake pan. The current spun us around this bundt basin once, then twice, and then a third time. This surprised me, because I had expected only one revolution. I was even more surprised when we got stuck during our third trip around! The current had washed us up onto a spot where there wasn't any water, close to the center. We were stuck on this dry patch, the water roaring around us. We frantically tried to push ourselves back into the current, I was feeling mildly panicked. We pushed our legs against the sides of the basin, and with some force, freed ourselves. We were the current once more, rushing towards the basin's exit. We landed in the pool with a great splash, let ourselves float for a moment, then rolled off the inner tube and waded out of the three foot deep pool to hand our inner tube to the next person in line one. I wrung the excess water out my bathing suit and we went to see what else we could go on.

We had only just whet (pardon the pun) our appetite for water rides, and were eager for more soggy thrills. We decided to ride Captain Hook's River Adventure, the same lazy river ride I discussed in another memoir. It's always been a favorite of mine, and I was surprised to see some of the changes it had undergone, not to the ride itself, but in the way people were using it. Instead of just floating down it on inner tubes, bathers were now swimming in it, alongside those using the tubes. Acacia and I decided to wait for an inner tube however, and got in line.

It was a pretty long wait, but it was bearable, since we were still wet from the Mega Wedgie. It also helped that as we got closer to our turn, we could wade in the man-made river, the water lapping over our ankles. When we waded deeper, it lapped at our knees. We talked to other bathers very cordially ( for there is nothing like an awkward, polite conversation with a stranger you'll never see again) and watched people get on their inner tubes, and if they had little kids, rest them in their laps. When it was our turn we were handed our vinyl rings of joy, and tried to climb on them. It was almost impossible, because they slip out from under you, the stubborn little bastards. I eventually asked a gentleman to hold mine down, which he kindly did. I settled awkwardly onto the thing, and let the current take me. Acacia, had no such luck climbing onto her tube, so she climbed through it, and kind of walked/paddled using the tube for support.

 This ride is wonderful, you just bob along, utterly relaxed, going where the current takes you. We passed under the bridge, but I don't think I got splashed by it's little waterfall. We talked to each other, and to the people around floating around us.
At one point, we were nearing that dreadful pipe that pours gallons of water onto unsuspecting floaters. One man nearby said "I don't want do go under that,". Just as he said it, I happened to be the unlucky fucker to get stuck under that aquatic torture device. It's hell being under a fountain or a spouting pipe, it feels like you're under that rushing water for an eternity. You can't see anything at all; you can only hear the loudness of the water pounding against you and your inner tube, and of course, that shit is freezing. After a few moments it was over. I was not hurt nor missing any jewelry, just soggy, so very soggy. Positively drenched in fact. The man who had not wanted to go under the gushing pipe laughed in a good-natured manner, and thanked me for going under it for him. I do not remember my retort, but it was probably a mixture of sarcasm and good cheer.

We passed a swimming pool attached to the river. Well, this was new. People were lounging by it, wading in it, and when they so desired, they would walk down some underwater steps into the lazy river. A lot of these swimmers were kids, who were eager to show Acacia and I that they could swim underwater and that they could swim like dolphins.
The ride came full circle eventually, and we found ourselves back where we started. Not wanting my pleasure to end, I asked the lifeguard how many times we could go around.
"Once" She said rather sternly.
Once?! Only once? You used to be able to go around twice. I don't know why they decided to change it; probably because the lines were getting too long. Disappointed, I dismounted from my inner tube, and handed it to the next rider. Then Acacia and I waded out of the water.
We then decided to go on the most epic water slide the Great Escape had to offer. It's called the Tornado, and it is a water slide that shoots you out into a huge funnel; once you're in that funnel, you're sliding up it's sides, thrown around at the mercy of the soggy elements. Then, after you lose momentum, you slide out the funnel into a pool.

I was a little nervous about riding it, because of how high the walls of the funnel were. But we gathered up our towels, and Acacia's sandals (I had opted to go barefoot) and went to get in line. It was a rather long line, and it would be a bit of a wait, but we were properly drenched and cooled off. So it wasn't torture, like the lines in the rest of the park are.
The line for The Tornado worked the same way the line for the Mega Wedgie did. There was Line 1, where you waited for a four person inner tube, which was shaped like a four leaf clover. In Line 2, you waited for your turn to go down the slide.
As we waited, we watched people walk past us with their inner tubes, most of them gaggles of teenage boys in surf shorts or skinny teenage girls in their dainty string bikinis. I couldn't help but feel fat and unattractive in my voluminous swimsuit which could barely contain my equally voluminous chest.

As we got further up in line, we watched people come shooting out of the mouth of the slide, shouting with joy and amusement. Some people had expressions that displayed only surprise and shock, as if the slide had been too intense for them. But it seemed most people enjoyed The Tornado.
After the long wait in the first line, we received our gargantuan inner tube. It was, despite being feather light, a very awkward thing, easily carried by four or even three riders, but not by two and certainly not one. To add to the discomfort of carrying our awkward inner tube, the walk from line 1 to line 2 happened to be a little bit long and quite impractical. We struggled with our clover tube, trying to keep it off the ground, not only to keep the concrete from popping the tube, but because the scraping of vinyl on concrete is an irritating noise.

So we waddled across the pavement with our tube, past crowds of bathers. We struggled up the wooden stairs to the second line. At the top of the stairs was a wooden bridge, that stretched across the great funnel that gave The Tornado its name. People were blocking up this bridge; they weren't even in line. They were just standing there, basking in the spray coming off the slide, and watching the riders slide up the sides of the funnel. Now that I think about it, I wonder if these people weren't just random bystanders, but were there waiting for their friends to go down the slide, either because they themselves had already ridden, or because they were not riding at all. This impromptu audience consisted mostly of middle-aged housewives and small kids, so I'm guessing the latter.

We navigated past the small crowd of people on the water slick bridge, and continued up more stairs to find ourselves in Line Two. We were very high up, more than 20 feet, able to oversee the entire water park and even some of the regular park. I felt a little bit dizzy and a little uneasy being up there, but what could I do? I wanted to go on this slide and there was, as usual, no turning back...

The Great Escape pt 5

I really have to finish this memoir, I've been paying too much attention to the other. Try to keep up!

Part 5: I Was Sternly Told Not to Yodel
Even though my aunt was hurt, she still took me to the lockers so I could change into my street clothes. Then, while she visited the infirmary, my Uncle Russell took me on some rides. I don't remember all the rides he took me on, nor do I remember the chronological order I went on these rides. This was ten years ago, after all; I cannot be expected to remember everything. . My memory of this trip is very shaky, and while I can tell you what I rode, I can not tell you when I rode it or in what order. It's very frustrating that I can not tell you this story in chronological order, but I suppose it is not very important.

I do remember my uncle taking me on a miniature ferris wheel, where the gondolas are shaped like yellow, red and aqua air balloons. It was kind of boring, I don't remember enjoying it. I also found myself on The Flying Elephants, a kiddie ride where you sit in a bad rip-off of Dumbo and go around in a circle, while you use a joy stick to make yourself move up and down in the air. It was pretty boring, and I kept my hand on the joy stick's little button, so I stayed up in the air for the entire ride. I hadn't even thought of making my elephant move up and down.

I was desperate to go on rides, it had become an obsession. I wanted to experience everything I could. So I flitted from ride to ride in the Fest Area, which was how I ended up on those damn elephants and few other baby rides. Some rides, I found I was too big to go on, such the Motorcycle Carousel or the Flying Dragons.
One of the other kiddies rides I had gotten on in my desperation was a tractor trailer themed ride called The Convoy. It consisted of miniature tractor trailers that slowly moved around a slightly curvy track. The tricks seat two people. One person sits inside the truck, while another person can sit on a little seat situated on top; each seat has a little steering wheel, so you can pretend you're really driving a freight truck. When it was my turn to get on, the woman operating the ride asked me if I wanted to sit inside one of the little trucks. I told her no, I would sit on one of the upper seats. I must have figured that it was bad enough that I was riding this idiotic thing, why further compromise my dignity and self-respect? Also, it looked like I would be too tall to sit inside, sitting on top of the mock tractor trailer was a sound decision.
The ride was boring. It was so boring, that I actually remember how dull it was. I tried to pass the time I was wasting on this ride by pretending I was really a trucker. It helped a little, but not much.

At one point, I also rode the Bumper Cars. While in line, I made a tit of myself trying to talk to some boys close to my age. I fumbled my words, and they laughed at me. Later, when I was out on the floor, they bumped me mercilessly with their cars, still laughing. I had trouble steering, and trouble braking the stupid car and if I recall correctly, the damn thing eventually broke down! My initiation into the bumper cars did not go well, and as a result, I rarely ride them. I find that people get too aggressive during this ride. Also, when you do get hit by another car, it does hurt. On one hand, they can be a lot of fun, but on the other hand, they can be very unpleasant.

The best ride I went on during this trip was The Himalaya. If I've got my history right, Himalayas were invented sometime in the late 19th to early 20th centuries. A train of cars speeds around on a bumpy track, and the breeze this produces cooled off riders in the summer months. Because of this, it was named after the cold winds of the Himalaya mountains.
The Himalaya ride at The Great Escape is called the Cannonball Express. It has some kind of swinging 60's-70's theme, with large pop art flowers, and figures of go go dancers and funky fresh dudes. It's colorful, alive with purples, sky blues, goldenrod yellows and aqua greens. Every time I go to the Great Escape, I ride it, except for once, when I went with Families First. During that trip I only went on two rides because the chaperon took us home early. She did not know how to handle my panic attacks and thought I had been misbehaving.

My uncle and I got in one of the cars, my uncle sitting on the outside, for he was taller. We buckled in, then pulled the lap bar down. The ride was fast and exciting, and music played the entire time, adding to the experience. I slid around in the vinyl-covered long seat, bumping into my uncle. I gripped the bar, straining my muscles from trying to keep from sliding around too much. I was having so much fun!
The ride slowed down after a few minutes. I assumed it was over, until it started moving again, only backwards. This was even more fun than going forwards, it was the best part of the ride. Sadly, they stopped making it go backwards a few years ago. I was very disappointed when I learned this. I never found out why made this decision either, but I think I shall ask someone, someday.

Eventually, the party re-grouped and the it was decided that we would ride The Comet. The Comet is a wooden roller coaster. In another memoir, I discussed riding it's doppelganger at Hershey Park, another wooden coaster of the same name, and an identical track.
My first ride on a wooden roller coaster was traumatizing. It was fast, rickety and the heights were terrifying. I love that coaster now, but as I kid I was terrified.
After that, we rode the Pirate Ship. Ship rides come in different themes, Viking, Pirate, even Nile themes tend to pop up. At The Great Escape, theirs is a pirate ship. Like most rides, I used to really hate this one, but now it's a favorite. As an adult, they're not as scary as they used to be for me.
My uncle led me to sit in the way back, the best part to sit. In fact, whenever you're in line for The Pirate Ship, it's a rule that the first place to get filled up is the back, because everybody wants to sit there. You can hope you'll get a back seat, but the fact is, the skanky teenage girls in front of you will sit there, forcing you to sit in the second to last row or even further up, near the mast.
But we were lucky enough to get the coveted back seat and I was especially lucky to get it on my maiden voyage (forgive the pun). We sat down and lowered the lap bar.

"When the ride is in the air, lean forward," My uncle told me. Being young and impressionable, I would do as he said, not even wondering why he had asked such a thing of me.
The ride started, swinging back and forth, simulating a ship tossing in the waves. When the side of the ride my uncle and I were sitting was up in the air, I did as my uncle said, and leaned forward, my bottom lifting off the hard plastic seat. I was already frightened by being so high up in the air and leaning forward added to my fear, for it caused a strange weightless feeling. I screamed, and never leaned forward again.

Afterwards, my sister went on more water rides, but I did not, instead my Aunt took me back to the fest area so I could go on more rides, It was during this time that I rode a few of the rides I described earlier, including The Convoy and The Elephants. At one point, I tried to convince my aunt that I wanted to go on the Rotor, a ride that spun so fast, you stuck to the walls while the floor dropped out from under you. She let me get in line, but when she warned me how sick it would make me I changed my mind. I also tried to get in line for a strange looking kiddie ride that consisted of an oval track and little cars shaped like mice. Unfortunately, it must have been closed down for some time, because there wasn't anyone else waiting in line or even a park employee to operate it. But I didn't realize that. I stood there, waiting, completely oblivious to the concept of the ride being closed. After all, there wasn't a sign indicating that this was so. Eventually, I shuffled off to find something else. Instead, I got to ride The Swings, which at the Great Escape they call The Flying Trapeze. I had always wanted to ride one of these, ever since I had watched my sisters ride it at the fair when I was four, and I could not, because of my size. But now six years later I was tall enough. So I got in one of the metal swings, dangling from long chains, pulled the bar down over my lap and clipped the safety chains together. My Aunt did not get on with me, but sat on a low wall nearby and watched.
I enjoyed the ride, while those swings spun around, quick as you please. It was kind of high up, yet I was not afraid, for the ride was gentler than a Pirate Ship or a Roller Coaster. I looked down at my aunt, and waved at her, which I imagine a lot of kids do when the adults with them let them ride by themselves. She waved back and I smiled. When I got off the ride, I gushed about not being afraid.

Like I mentioned repeatedly, I do not remember the chronological order I went on the rides, I really don't. I'm probably getting this all wrong, I could have gone on the swings before I rode the Comet or after I rode the Alpine Bobsled. Wait, I haven't mentioned the Alpine Bobsled? I should probably cover that, shouldn't I?

I don't remember at which point I rode the Alpine Bobsled. The Bobsled is a roller coaster, which instead of rolling on traditional tracks, goes down a chute, just like real bobsledding. It's actually really dangerous for a roller coaster, and a woman died when it went off the 'track'. But as a kid, I did not know that. I only knew that it was a long line. While we waited, my Aunt Amy brushed my hair, as it had gotten tangled. She mentioned that I had split ends. Curious, I asked her what that meant as she braided my hair. She told me it meant the ends of my hair was splitting in two.

The bobsled cars have the flags of different countries on them, keeping up with the Olympic theme. There was America, Switzerland, Italy, Germany, France, England and to my amusement, Jamaica. Those are the only ones I remember. We got Switzerland, and I was sternly told not to yodel.
The ride goes pretty fast, and you get knocked around pretty easy from all the jolts and sharp, swooping turns, but I liked it because it wasn't as high up as the other roller coasters. I also ignored the warning about yodeling, and gave some pitiful attempts at the vocal art, though my Aunt Amy would later claim I was a very good yodeler, in the way that adults tell you you're good at something, when you're really not. When you were a kid, did you ever try something, and know that you fucked up, yet your parents or teachers or relatives still told you you were good?

Soon enough the day had begun to wind down. We had a few rides left to go on, and then we would leave. But to hear about that, dear reader, you will have to wait until the next and final installment of this memoir.

Fox and Squirrel Pt. 5

Dearest reader, I hope you're keeping up, and I hope you're reading everything in order. If you're reading this at all.

Part 5: Blessed Relief
As I mentioned earlier, Acacia had left her bathing suit in the car. So before we could have our soggy romp in the water park, we had to make the long, hot trek out to the parking lot, where we were inconveniently parked way in the back of that dreaded asphalt ocean. Naturally, I had some complaints, some of which I vocalized, some of which I kept to myself. Mainly, I bitched about the heat, and the proximity of our car.
So we made out way out of Storytown and into the International Village where the entrances and exits of the park were located. I just wanted to get this over with, I was slowly roasting inside my own clothes, and my feet had already begun to ache. At the exit, we had our hands stamped so we could reenter the park. The old guy manning the exit flirted with us shamelessly.

You have to exit the Great Escape through their Gift Shop, there is no other way. This is some excellent planning on their part, because as you're leaving, you're exposed to their merchandise. How can you resist some of the fine souvenirs they're offering you? Drinking mugs, apparel, shot glasses and magnets all emblazoned with the Great Escape logo. Stuffed toys, jewelry, and candy. Puppets and sodas. Sundry items line racks and shelves. Anything you can think of will be there. How can you resist? Aren't your pockets just burning to be emptied?
But I did not feel any burning in our pockets, I was too busy concentrating on the sweet coolness of the air conditioning. Compared to the thick heat outside, the air in here seemed thinner and cleaner. It was a blessed relief, like diving into cold water or stepping into a freezer. We walked through the gift shop slowly, taking in the sensation of the crisp, cool air wrapping around us. I knew that once we left the gift shop we'd be back in the thick, soupy heat, and that the heat would feel much worse after having been exposed to air-conditioning. But I tried not to think about it, and concentrated on enjoying as much of the cold air as I could.

When we exited the gift shop the heat fell on us like a heavy quilt. It was pretty bad; in fact, it was downright terrible. The air felt suffocating and dense, thick and almost tangible. We trudged back to the car, cursing the heat. It seemed to take forever, it always does in this sort of humidity, but eventually we made it to the car. Acacia grabbed her suit, and then grabbed some juice pouches from our cooler for us to drink. We had left our cooler in the car, because The Great Escape doesn't allow guests to bring in outside food into the park. This forces patrons to either leave and have tailgate picnics in the parking lot, (which I have done in the past) or buy food inside the park. Most people would rather do the latter than have to drag their kids outside the park and listen to them whine about not wanting to leave. This senseless rule about outside food was probably made in an effort to get more money out of park guests.
The juice pouches were mostly frozen, thanks to my mother sticking them in the freezer a few days before. But we sucked out what juice we could, relishing the cold sweetness. Then, we walked back to the park, ripping the pouches open to scoop out the slush, chewing on them to force out the cold icy goodness inside. It was still hot, and people were staring at us, but it helped us feel a little better. We got most of the punch flavored slush out and into our mouths by the time we made it to the gates. Then, we threw them out (no outside food, remember?), flashed our stamped hands at the gate people, and reentered the park without a fuss.
But it was a long trek to Splashwater Kingdom. Consulting our maps, we walked through Storytown, and the Fest Area. In the Fest area, we found lockers to rent, but you could only rent them with an ATM like computer, a feature they did not have the last time I went to The Great Escape. People were swarming around these computers, complete pandemonium all around. My panic levels rose dramatically, and I had my one and only freak out of the day, as we attempted to rent a locker via computer. It seemed too complicated, what had happened to the old way of renting lockers? There were other lockers, inside Splashwater Kingdom, couldn't we try those? I begged Acacia if we could try the lockers inside Splashwater Kingdom instead.
Acacia relented, and we walked into Splashwater Kingdom. It seemed sunnier in this part of the park, and everywhere, people cavorted, the children in Noah's Sprayground, the skinny teenage girls clad in neon bikinis, the matrons in practical one-pieces. Even consumerism dwelt here, for there were inner tube rentals, and kiosks to buy ice cream and drinks. There was a little pizza restaurant and even a place to buy bathing suits, goggles and sunscreen.

In the large cement building with lockers an changing stalls, we found a table where actual employees were renting lockers. We rented a small one for eleven dollars, and went to put our stuff in it. But it wouldn't open. We stood there, trying to get it open, frustrated. Then it turned out we hadn't been given a special bracelet to open it! I felt so silly! The employees strapped the hot pink bracelet, similar to the type you wear in a hospital, around my skinny wrist. Then, I ran my wrist over some kind of digital strip on the locker, and the metal door popped open. I took out my bathing suit, shoved my backpack and towel in, and then we went to change into our suits.

My bathing suit is a one-piece, in the 'bathing dress' style, meaning it looks like a minidress as opposed to a suit. It's the kind of swimsuit chubby girls like me wear to hide our pudgy tummies and plump thighs, patterned in a motley of indigo, white, teal and iguana green prints and hues, with dapples of metallic copper thrown in. While it fits me fine in the hips, it's still too tight in the chest. No matter what suit I wear, it will always be too tight in the chest, because with an H cup, you'll always be too big for bathing suits unless you have them custom made. But if I maneuver my breasts just right, the suit fits just fine, and I still look halfway decent (though I'm sure some would say otherwise). Acacia changed into her red and white bathing suit top, but I didn't see her put on her bottoms, she still had her shorts on. At first I thought she had left them on out of modesty, but I later found out that she had dropped her scarlet bathing suit bottoms in the parking lot. Changed and ready, I shoved our clothes into the diminutive locker. There wasn't any room for Acacia's bag, so she stored her valuables in the locker and left her bag on top of the lockers. Then we headed outside into the hot sunshine.

We barely knew where to start, there were so many things to do. There were two slides I had never seen before, and rides that had been there for as long as I could remember. Most of the slides at the Great Escape, such as the Black Cobra, I have never been on. I've just never had the chance to ride them and I didn't ride them either this time. The lines were simply too long. I did ride the new slides, however. Next time I go, I vow to ride all the water slides, even if I end up spending all day in the water park.
We decided that the first water ride we'd go on would be the Mega Wedgie. It's a purple and turquoise water slide that sends riders spinning into a giant basin, before being dropped into a pool. It looked like fun, so we got in line.

Technically there are two lines; in the first line, you wait for an inner tube. The Mega Wedgie had a limited supply of figure eight shaped water tubes that can seat one or two riders. This line was at the bottom of the slide, by the pool, so that when someone finished the ride, they could pass off their inner tube to whoever was next in the inner tube line. Once you get your inner tube, you get in the second line, where you climb a set of stairs to the top of the water slide. It's all a neat little system. Of course, I imagine that by renting an inner tube, you could probably bypass this system all together.

Acacia and I waited for our inner tube patiently. It was much cooler in the water park, possibly a psychosomatic effect caused by the sight and sound of the water. Or it maybe it's not all in your head, maybe it really is just cooler being near the water, for scientific reasons that I probably learned in high school and promptly forgot. Pop music blasted from speakers situated about the park. We watched people jettison out of the bottom of the slide and hit the water with a splash, often accompanied with joyous screams. Now that I think about it, this water slide reminds me a lot of the digestive system. You enter the mouth of the slide, slid down an esophagus, into the stomach-like basin, down the intestine and out the bottom opening of the slide, into a pool. Actually, wouldn't that be a cool theme for a water ride? How about a human body themed amusement park in general?

Eventually it was our turn to receive an inner tube. I stepped into the pool, relishing the cool chlorinated water lapping at my ankles, to collect our tube from it's previous user. Now that I think about it, this too reminds me of The Dress Lodger, and Gustine in her pretty blue dress being passed from man to man like our inner tube. Maybe I need to put that book down.
We carried the pale blue figure-eight to the second line. Despite it's light weight, it was very awkward to carry because of it's size. But we managed to get it to the second line, and climb up the wooden steps.. Also, As we waited, we discussed Hetalia, and played with our inner tube by popping in and out of the holes in the middle. Acacia called it a donut, then we briefly discussed cartoons with the kids in front of us.

As we got closer to the mouth of the slide, we began to discuss who would sit where. Should I sit in the front? Or should Acacia? Acacia designated herself to the back seat, whereas I could take the front.
It was our turn at last; the lifeguard gave us instructions and we lay our inner tube in front of the slide. We asked the lifeguard to hold it for us while we settled into it, afraid the rushing water of the slide would carry our tube away, without us on it. So she kindly obliged, holding down our tube while we awkwardly settled into it. Cold water tickled my back and ass, the sound of the water filled my ears. I looked down the precipice of the slide, into the darkness below, the only light coming in was from the sun filtering through the seams of the slide. Then, Acacia and I pushed forward, and plunged down the throat of the Mega Wedgie...

Fox and Squirrel Pt. 4

If you're wondering what the title of this memoir refers to, allow me to enlighten you. The fox is Acacia's totem animal, and the squirrel is mine. I call her 'Foxy' now and again, and my Abenaki name is Mikoa, which means squirrel. Now, on to the story...

Part 4: Slightly Queasy and Frazzled
We survived The Sasquatch, quite impressed with ourselves for having the balls to ride the very thing we were afraid of. Acacia's reasoning had made sense. It was better get it over with right away, than put it off and give ourselves time to change our minds. We rode what we were afraid of the most, and started our day with a bang.

We briefly debated what to ride next, and somehow it was decided that we would ride The Boomerang Coast to Coast roller coaster. At this point in my life, I'd only ridden this coaster twice, once when I was ten, and again when I was twelve. Both experiences had been rather traumatizing for me, and as a result, my opinion of the ride had been a low one for many years, bolstered by the fact that a kid had become paralyzed after falling out of the ride. But now I realized, that if I could ride The Sasquatch and survive, then I could ride The Boomerang.
But before I rode anything else, I desperately needed to use a bathroom. So we wandered around Storytown, looking for a bathroom to use. We may even have wandered into the Fest Area (which looks like a classic carnival). As we searched, I took in the familiar sights, noticing that even with the new rides, the park looked very much the same as it ever was. Storytown was still very pretty, if not a little careworn. I also noticed that food and games were ridiculously expensive, much to my disgust.

After finding and using a bathroom (I'm sure you don't want to hear the details about that), we made our way back to the Boomerang. It was dreadfully hot, and terribly uncomfortable, but thankfully not as crowded as I'd thought it would be. While we walked, I noticed the Cinderella Coach ride. Standing in front of it, was Cinderella herself, trapped in her pretty blue gown. I think it was a prom dress, in a bright shade of blue, a hybrid of cyan and aqua. In hindsight, all this reminds me a lot of the book called The Dress Lodger, whose main character, named Gustine, is a potter's assistant by day, and a prostitute by night, decked out in a splendid blue gown provided by her landlord. Gustine spends her nights, exposed to inclement weather for hours at a time, waiting for customers to come and use her. Is the park employee not similar, in her beautiful blue gown, having to stand for hours in sweltering heat, waiting for park guests to come over and marvel at her beauty and ride in her coach? Boldly, I asked her if it was terribly hot in that gown, if surely she was not in some discomfort.

She stayed in character the whole time, replying in a sweet voice that it wasn't that bad (more acting I wonder?). We struck up a conversation with her, the girl never faltering in her smile and her princess voice, as we discussed the new ride, which she had heard you could view Lake George from if you sat just right. Yes, she is like Gustine, in a way. She must never show her discomfort or displeasure in her position. Being the Great Escape Cinderella can't be that bad can it now? You get to dress up, you look pretty and you certainly don't have to clean vomit. But unlike Gustine, I don't think she has to have sex with nameless, faceless men every night. I may have mentioned this before, I may even have mentioned it to Acacia that day, that throughout the years while the park Cinderella may change- be a different girl, in a different dress (though it's always a blue one), with different glass slippers, she is essentially the same girl. The park always casts a girl with light colored hair, either a light brown or a blond. Her eyes are probably light as well, and she is usually thin.

After leaving Cinderella, we finally made it to the Boomerang. When I first rode it ten years ago, it had been painted teal, a soothing color that was slowly fading with time. Someone must have decided that this blue-green hue belied the fierceness of the ride, for now it was painted red and yellow. Shiny and new. It looked much better. The Boomerang, as far as coasters go, is pretty small, but its power lies in the fact that it goes backwards and forwards, the origin of its name. It drags you backwards up a steep slope, launches you downhill, and then you go through some loops and twists. Then you're dragged up another slope, parallel to the first and then you repeat the ride in reverse.

The line was not as long as it could have been, but it was still a bitch to wait in. It was hot, as I mentioned, so hot that my denim Capris were sticking to my body. I was starting to feel fussy, the way a small child would feel. Acacia, bless her sweet soul, put her arms around me and spoke soothingly to me. She told me we would go to the water park after the Boomerang, which sounded really really good. The only catch, was that she left her bathing suit in the car and we would have to go back and get it. When I started to fret about that, she began to soothe me all over again. She is really very good at that, soothing me when I panic.

Whenever I'm in line for something, I people watch. It is a habit of mine. I noticed the women behind us were incredibly dressed up for an amusement park.Wearing nice clothes, makeup, gold jewelry and painful looking sandals. I don't get it, why do you need to be so dressed up for The Great Escape? Sure, I had earrings on and some nifty accessories, but I was wearing comfy clothes and sneakers and no makeup. I'm on my feet all day, and the makeup will just get washed off in the water park. I stared at their feet, wondering how they could walk around in dressy sandals all day. Practice, probably.

Soon enough it was our turn to get on the roller coaster. We put our glasses in our bags, and got in a car somewhere in the middle of the train. We pulled the shoulder restraints down, and I made sure that mine was pushed down as tightly as it could go; I wasn't taking any chances. I was incredibly nervous, more than nervous, downright terrified. But there was no turning back, I would not chicken out.
The cars began to move up the hill slowly. I tried to remain calm, but soon found my panic setting in. To keep myself calm, I began to sing to myself, an old Pagan song my mother had sung to me as a child. I wondered if it made the people behind me uncomfortable.

The cars had stopped moving, and we were now in that terrible pause right before the roller coaster drops. I was terrified. I felt dizzy, and because of the angle of the slope, I felt like I was slipping out of my seat. This was the worst part, being stuck high in the air, at the very top of the hill, not moving, choking on my fear. It was hot up there, and my vision was blurry without my glasses. I felt utterly helpless.

Finally the coaster dropped, speeding down the hill. My stomach dropped to my knees, and I screamed in fear and exhilaration. The cars rushed past the operating station, and went through one of the twists, turning us upside down. Then, it twisted again, swooped down and went through a loop, during which I screamed to Jesus. The whole thing was very quick and very exciting. It seems I had overcome my fear of the Boomerang after all!

Then the ride began it's trip up the second slope, to start it's backwards journey. This was a little less scary, because I couldn't see my ascent, only feel it. Then the cars dropped, and we repeated the ride, only backwards. It was a lot of fun going backwards, but I still found myself shouting "Holy Mary Mother of God!" at the top of my lungs, and reciting a few Catholic prayers, despite the fact that I'm Pagan.

The ride ended when it pulled itself halfway up the first hill, then settled back into the station slowly, in a manner that again, reminded me of death throes. It was over. The restraints released themselves, and we climbed out of the car,  I was slightly queasy and frazzled, but throughly entertained. We put our glasses back on, and walked away from the Boomerang. I felt like a champion. I had conquered the beast and won.

Fox and Squirrel Pt. 3

Part 3: Great Amusement and Frustration
Since I hadn't been to the Great Escape in four years, it should have been no surprise to me that there had been some changes. The first of these I noticed back in 2008, while driving past The Great Escape on my way to Glens Falls. Across the street from the park I saw a new hotel known as The Great Escape Lodge, which featured an indoor water resort. Another change that I had noticed in 2008 was the pedestrian bridge. It was a bridge that arched over the road so that guests could avoid the busy traffic and safely cross into the park. This particular road is always busy and crossing the street from the parking lot used to be such an ordeal, but now you can just walk over the relentless onslaught of cars, completely unharmed. It's a concept that I greatly enjoy. I hate crossing the street, and have long dreamed of being able to merely walk above it.

The third change I noticed, was that you could no longer park wherever you wanted. You had to pull into a driveway behind the lodge, pull up to a tollbooth and pay for your parking space. Parking cost ten bucks, and after we paid, the guy sitting in the tollbooth gave us a little ticket of verification.
Finding a parking space was difficult. We drove past car after car, eyeballing the diverse license plates, searching for a space, while I squirmed in anxiety. Eventually, we found a place to park in the way back; it was shitty place to park, but a place to park nonetheless.

We got out of the car, grabbed the bags we needed and locked the doors. Then we made the long trek from parking lot to amusement park. It was a long walk, that led us past picnic areas, and little man-made ponds dotted with lily pads. I felt excited and anxious as we walked; I also had to pee, seeing as I'd been drinking tea and Capri Sun throughout the drive. It was a little after noon and the park had been open for about an hour.

As I surveyed the park, I noticed their new ride, called The Sasquatch. It consisted of a pair 192 foot tall towers, that took riders up in the air, then dropped them at a terrifying speed. I was surprised by this, because I'd assumed that The Sasquatch was a terrifying new roller coaster. I'd been hearing about it all summer, but the only pictures I'd seen advertising the new ride featured closeups of frightened passengers; they did not show the ride's construction. Acacia and I marveled at it with awe and fear and briefly discussed whether or not we would ride it. Acacia didn't want to, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to.

We walked across the bridge, and into Great Escape territory. There weren't any lines outside the admission gates, seeing as it was a Monday and thus not very busy. We walked right through, displaying our online tickets and made our way to a long brick edifice, decorated with international flags. It was here that you had your tickets checked and your bags searched. I was dreading this part. Would they demand to see my ID? Would they find the Xanax that I had stashed in my backpack?

They never carded or searched us, just accepted our tickets and waved us through the turnstile. Turnstiles, provide great amusement and frustration for me. It's very difficult to make that bar turn, most people push them with their hands, but I never do. I just walk through them awkwardly, pushing them forward with my hips and thighs. There's a lot of resistance when I do that, so perhaps I should just try using my hands...

We were officially inside The Great Escape. When you enter the park, you find yourself in some kind of Bavarian village, filled with different shops selling candies, clothes, Looney Tunes merchandise etc. Park employees take your picture, and tell you to come back later to pick it up. Sitting in the center of all this activity is a majestic statue of a bronze warthog.

We were stopped by one of the park employees, a camera in his hand. He was a young man about my age, but I don't recall what he looked like. He took some photos of Acacia and I, some silly, some serious. There's always the simple portrait where you and your companions grin genuinely and then there's the goofy shot. In the goofy shot, people make silly faces, pretend to attack each other and just generally fool around. I don't remember what silly things Acacia and I did for our pictures, for we never retrieved them at the end of the day.

Afterwards, we strolled into Storytown. I still had to pee, but that was soon forgotten when we walked past the new ride. The Sasquatch stood there, in all it's glory, in the same spot The Rainbow had sat four years earlier. The area was decorated with a Bigfoot investigation theme, complete with camping gear and 'evidence' of Bigfoot's existence. The two towers loomed above us in all their magnificence. Acacia said she wanted to ride it, much to my surprise. She explained that we might as well do it and get it out of the way. I agreed with her wholeheartedly, and we got in line.

I do not know how Acacia felt, but I was filled with fear. Why was I doing this? Was I doing it to prove something? Do I do it because I am afraid? I'd been on miniature versions of this ride before, little 30 foot plunge rides featured at county fairs, but this, this was a behemoth, this was a new experience.
It was our turn; we had chosen the left tower, we'll call it Orthanc. We sat down in two of the molded plastic seats, that encircled the tower (if you've ever seen one of these rides you know what I mean) the kind which adhere to the contours of your bum and legs. We pulled down the shoulder restraints, and then buckled the safety belt, connecting the shoulder restraint to the seat, snapping us in tightly. My heart was pounding, and I do not remember if I took off my glasses or not (I must have). I do not remember if I reached for Acacia's hand. I remember the attendant checking our restraints, which is always awkward, because they directly always connect at the crotch. I know it's their job, but I still feel uncomfortable.

The ride's operation is housed inside a building that resembles a Ranger's Station; the ride operator speaks to you via intercom. He asked us if we were ready to go. I responded by closing my eyes in fear.
"Stop that..." The operator warned teasingly. My eyes snapped open, he must have seen me closing my eyes; I decided not to close them again.
The ride began it's ascent. It was a slow ascent, and seemed as if it took forever to get to the top, as it does on any ride where you're being lifted up in the air. It's the same feeling with roller coasters. I tried to center myself, tried to stay calm. I refused to close my eyes again, daring myself to look around. The view of the park, and the mountains surrounding it were beautiful. I briefly thought about how The Last of the Mohicans took place in this part of New York. My fear dissipated, I was so taken in by the landscape. We were at the very top, 192 feet in the air, the world below us so very small.

Then the ride plummeted and it was a fantastic rush. My stomach dropping, the wind in my hair and face. We plunged back to earth at an alarming speed, and our screams were those of delight instead of terror. I wasn't afraid, I was exhilarated!
The ride slowed down, rose a little again, as if it were in death throes, then finally lowered and stopped. We unbuckled ourselves, and I climbed out awkwardly. I say it was so, not because my legs were shaking but because of the shape of the seats. The plastic seats are molded in such a manner that they resemble an imprint of someone's buttocks and thighs. This unintentionally creates a bump that sits between the rider's legs. When you sit down, you can avoid it, because you're throwing yourself into the seat. But when you get off the ride, the bump manages to catch on your crotch. At least when I get out of the seat that plastic bump manages to molest me, I don't think anyone else has this malfunction.

So, we survived the Sasquatch in one piece; we even enjoyed it. But before we could decide on another ride, we had to do one very important thing. We had to use a bathroom!