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!