Have I gone too far?

I'm starting to wonder if I've gone too far with my memoir rewrites. At the beginning I vowed I would only fix a couple sentences and mend grammatical errors. But now I find myself rewriting entire paragraphs! Yes, I do have paragraphs. The formatting of this blog doesn't allow the indentations to appear. So I just break up my story into spaced chunks.

So I'm rewriting entire chunks now! Soon it'll get to the point where I'll delete an entire entry and just start from scratch!

I'm just trying to improve my writing. Is that such a bad thing? Am I taking this too seriously? I mean, they do sound better after I'm through with them. They make more sense after I revise them, they truly do. I still don't have an outside opinion though. Damn.

Disgust and Dismay

A few minutes ago, I logged into my blog with the intention of continuing my memoir rewrite. To my surprise, I noticed I had a new follower. A new follower! A strange coincidence, after writing an entry lamenting my lack of followers, right?
My surprise and delight was shattered when I realized that my new follower was none other than my ex-boyfriend, Bryan. This discovery filled me with a mixture of disgust and dismay, as the title suggests. He followed both my blogs, including my inactive blog from a high school health class.
How did he find me you ask? Well, several months ago, I left a mildly snarky comment on a blog entry he'd written regarding health care. Why, I don't know; I'm very impulsive sometimes. He responded with sincerity, clearly missing the snarkiness in my tone. Did he know who I was? Most likely, seeing as the title of my abandoned Health Class Blog has my last name in it. After all, how many people have my surname?

Why would he want to follow the ex-girlfriend who broke his heart and (literally) broke his balls? Is he still obsessed with me, as he was in the months after I dumped him? Does he follow me to keep tabs on me, wondering if my life if better or worse than his?
I check up on my exes via the internet whenever I'm bored. My motive is generally one of curiosity, I want to see they're doing with their lives, if they ever still think about me. Lots of people do the same thing, especially women. Women relish the idea of their exes still thinking about them, it strokes our egos.
For me, it strokes my ego and disgusts me to find an ex still thinking of me. On one hand, I feel a certain pride knowing that I made such an impact on their lives.

My relationship with Bryan lasted one month and three weeks. I was twelve at the time, and he was fourteen. It was for my part, unpleasant, mainly because I was not emotionally ready to have a boyfriend. I panicked, and fled. He reacted by following me around, attempting to win me back. Then, when he realized he wouldn't ever get me back, a rivalry began. Who was the better thespian? Who was the better singer? Who was cooler? With the rivalry came an abundance of bitterness.
We both hated each other, and both tried to constantly outdo the other. The whole thing created plenty of amusement for our peers, and plenty of frustration and humiliation for me. I regretted ever meeting him, and I still feel that way.

When I moved to VT, I thought I had escaped the drama. But thanks to the internet, the drama sought me out and found me, causing more trouble. He's messaged me on Myspace, followed me on my blog. I'll never be able to evade my juvenile mistake of dating him. The internet makes it easy to find anyone you want. All these social networking sites, like Facebook and Twitter only make it easier. It's a problem that we are only just beginning to grasp.

This unspoken rivalry, as old as it is, will probably never go away. The urge to one-up a nemesis never does. I can hold a grudge for a damn long time, too. I was a kid when this started, just a kid who made a stupid decision that should have meant nothing at all. But instead it turned into an epic clusterfuck, one I can never escape. Normal people don't hold death grudges with former childhood sweethearts, you know?

So I blocked him from my blog (let's hear it for alliteration!). I only wish that I'd written this blog before hand, so he could see this and answer for himself. I want to know his intentions, and then I want him to go the fuck away.

Memoir rewrites!

I started to write a blog about some of my obsessive compulsive rituals involving food, but had an attack of writer's block. The thought of writing more memoirs kept taunting, teasing and tempting me. I couldn't settle upon another idea for a memoir, nor did I want to make this blog redundant, so I resisted the urge. But the urge grew stronger, and my obsession with self-indulgence and rich details began to consume me. So I decided to re-read my already published memoirs. Doing so left me dissatisfied and frustrated, for nothing about my published works sounded right. The language sounded stilted and awkward, and I found a few grammatical mistakes peppered here and there. My writing didn't make any sense, and didn't sound as intelligent as I had previously thought.

So I decided to fix it. I've started rewriting them, though not completely. Nothing drastic, just a few touch-ups here and there. Rewrite a few sentences, add some semicolons (the semicolon obsession persists!) and fix mistakes. I'll add more information in some places, to flesh out my already florid and corpulent details. I have a few doubts about this clean-up though, a feeling that I'm simplifying my work and making it as dull as Stephenie Meyer's prose. A writer is often her worst critic though, so I need a second opinion to tell me if these changes are for better or worse. Unfortunately, it looks like my followers don't seem very interested. I think perhaps they don't really care about the memoirs (which is why I've decided to avoid them from now on). I must admit that the memoirs are more for me, than the reader, and I use this blog as an outlet for my memories and opinions. I didn't start writing to garner attention (though that is an incentive, sometimes); I started writing for my pleasure, a reason I think a lot of people start writing for. Very few people write for unselfish reasons I think.

I've begun to doubt my talent. I suppose a lot of writers doubt themselves, like Stephen King. He was never going to publish Carrie, but his wife took the manuscript out of the trash and convinced him to go through with it. Sometimes, all a writer needs is a sensible person to slap them in the face and say "you don't suck!". I haven't had anyone do that for this blog though. This little corner of the internet goes widely ignored, no matter how often I pimp it out to friends and loved ones.

But I'm going to keep on trucking. I enjoy writing, whether or not anyone notices that I'm doing it (though it would be nice if someone did). I'm going to obsessively rewrite my self-indulgent, florid memoirs and maybe even write some new ones. At some point, I'll write some regular blogs, when the mood takes me and my mind allows me such a boon. Who knows what I'm going to do next with this blog, or if anyone is going to ever see it? Maybe it won't be such a big deal if I stop thinking about it.

What to write next?

Now that I've finished my third self-indulgent memoir, I am at a loss of what to write next. Should I discuss politics or literature? Should I write an articulate rant? I considered writing another memoir; perhaps about something that has nothing to do with amusement parks. I have also considered editing all my memoirs, for I feel that they do not have enough semicolons. I do not know why I treat these memoirs with such reverence. Perhaps it is the amount of detail and work I put into these, taking days or even weeks to write even a single entry, editing and re-editing them. I certainly don't put as much effort into my other entries.
If I wrote another one, what would it even be about? One idea I had was that I would write about a trip my father and I took to The Shelburne Museum. I've also thought about writing about another amusement park trip, but I was afraid I would make myself redundant.

Normally, my mind is swimming in ideas about what to write, ideas I quickly forget due to the fact that I've got the attention span of a squirrel. But lately, I've been having some 'writer's block'. I don't know what ideas to use (if I can even conjure any to begin with) and when I do actually start to compose something, I begin to doubt its quality. Am I using too many details or not enough? Is my grammar correct; where do I put a semicolon? Did I use that semicolon in my last sentence correctly?
It seems of late, that my anxiety has gotten worse and worse. Every aspect of my life is fraught with intense feelings of anxiety and nervousness. My mind overcrowded with screaming obsessive thoughts. Then, the depression and the despair sweeps through. Nothing seems right, and everything my friends do or say annoys me.
I've had a lot of unwanted drama in my life lately, most of it of my own making. Things I should have left unsaid, now out in the open. Misunderstood words coming back to bite me in the ass. It feels like my life is falling apart, and at this point, I'm willing to let it. What else can I do? There does not seem to be much I can do to stop fate, so I am going to have to take things as they come, and learn to accept the inevitable.

Fox and Squirrel Pt. 11

This is the final chapter of my longest, most self-indulgent memoir. And this time, I mean it. I don't know what I'm going to blog about after this. I might start another memoir, or I might actually blog about something other than myself. Who knows? Also, I'm tired of writing this, so it might be a little bit sloppy.
Part 11: Time To Go Home
As you already know, we had chosen The Flying Trapeze to be our final ride. Since it was the end of the day, there was virtually no line. So we got on the ride much quicker than usual.
We selected our swings, and fastened all the safety restraints. While we waited for the ride to start, we swung ourselves back and forth, just like one would on a regular playground swing. I think a lot of people do this whenever they go one one of these rides.
The ride began, lifting us into the air, then us spinning around. It was pretty fast, though not as fast as the swings at Hershey Park (which are prettier as well, thanks to the art, which features Victorian women right out of Godey's Ladies Book). The view was pretty amazing though, one could see the setting sun, and The Boomerang Coaster. I could hear the kids behind us, talking about The Boomerang. Then one of them idly mentioned, that whenever they ride the swings, that they're afraid that the chains of their swing are going to snap off and send them flying to their deaths. I laughed, I have that exact same fear myself. I'm terrified that one day, I'll be riding one of these things, and the chains are just going to snap, sending me flying out to my certain doom. This is of course, very unlikely, since the chains are generally very strong, and one would have to be immensely heavy in order to make them break. You'd have to be, like 500 pounds in order for this to occur. But it's unlikely a 500 pound person would even be on one of these swings, because the seats would be unable to contain their ass, after all. Also, I think most rides have weight limits.

When the ride was over, it was time to go home. The park was closing, and crowds of people were navigating their way to the park's exit. We joined this great herd, which moved slowly, as if everyone was reluctant to leave or just too exhausted to move quickly. The latter is more logical. By park's closing, most people just want to get home, or to their hotel rooms and collapse. Amusement parks take a lot out of you.
Usually, whenever I leave an amusement park, I take a moment to muse upon its fading magic. During the day, an amusement park is loaded with magic. Its loud noises, its bright colors, the way they draw you in and enchant you. At night, when all the lights turn on and the place sparkles, there's a different kind of magic, but a magic all the same. But then, when the park closes, the fey glamor of the place wears off. The rides are still and silent, the concession stands no longer give off luscious smells. The place is going to sleep, and when it's sleeping, it can't work its magic on anyone.
But as we left, I was not musing upon these thoughts. I was just too tired, too sore and too uncomfortable to think. I just wanted to get out of this crowd, get to the car and go home. I wonder how Acacia felt. I think she was just as tired as I was, and probably not looking forward to driving all the way home.

We entered the little International Village, where, as you already know, the parks entrance and exit are located. We'd had our picture taken there that afternoon when we walked into the park, and meant to pick up the photos (supposedly they were free if we presented the ticket that the photographer given us). We never even got close to the photo kiosk though, because it was so crowded. It was as if every single park guest had rushed to that kiosk at once, and so we decided to head on home.
We exited through the gift shop, stopping to admire a few things, but since we had no money to spare, we moved on pretty quickly. After all, we really wanted to go home.

We made the long trek back to the car, our bodies sore, our legs unwilling. Up the ramp, over the bridge and into the vast parking lot. I wished we hadn't parked so far back. My bra was chafing my skin and my feet were hurting.
When finally we made it to the car, Acacia and I stripped off any garments we found uncomfortable. I whipped off my bra, for the under wire was poking and irritating my skin, the straps cutting into my shoulders. Acacia rid herself of those damp shorts, which she had been wearing all day without any complaint (though she had declared earlier that she would not wear them for the ride home). We threw our stuff into the back seat and got in the car. I peeled off my shoes and socks, and let my feet breathe.
The ride home was subdued. Every part of my body hurt, and I fell asleep quickly. I only woke up when we stopped at the Stewart's gas station. I had to pee, plus it was my job to pay for gas, seeing as Acacia was clad only in a t-shirt and bright orange underwear, and would not put those shorts on again for anything. So, I pulled on my sneakers without putting my sweaty socks back on or even bothering to lace them, and got out of the car with the rest of our cash.

I felt awkward, stumbling into Stewart's without a bra on. I'm very subconscious about my breasts (you would be too if you were my cup size) you see, and felt uncomfortable going into the station with them in their unbridled state. So I crossed my arms over my chest, as if trying to keep them from wandering away, and shuffled over to the bathroom.
It was occupied. Of course it was occupied. It's a well known fact, that whenever you're at a gas station and in a hurry, the bathroom will be occupied, or the line will be ridiculously long. Whenever you're in a hurry, there will always be some obnoxious obstacle.
Eventually, the man in the bathroom finally vacated (and naturally, it seemed like he took an eternity. It's as if they do it on purpose you know, because they know someone is waiting, and want to be a total dick about it.) and I had my turn. Then I went to the counter and bought our gas. It was my first time buying gas, and I had no idea how to do it. We didn't have enough money for the amount Acacia wanted, so I had to ask for as much gas as our money would buy. I don't even remember how much money it was nor do I remember which one of us pumped the gas. I think it must have been me, because in her pants-less state, Acacia could not get out of the car. I had to have her guidance of course, seeing as I don't know how to pump gas, much less even drive a car. The whole experience at the gas station was very surreal.

The rest of the ride home was very much a blur. I dozed on and off, my body screaming in pain from the day's excursions. At some point, we passed the state borders. We were back in Vermont.
But we weren't home yet. We still had aways to go, for we were on the west side of VT, and home was on the easternmost edge of the state. Luckily, we were in the narrowest part of the VT. But the ride still seemed to last forever, and not in the exciting way our ride to the Great Escape had been. After all, we were very tired. Also, I felt strangely melancholy, as I often do after a fun trip. There's all the emotional build-up and excitement. Then during the event itself, there's a kind of emotional climax. It's like being high on my own feelings. When it's all over, and I come down from this high, I find myself drained and depressed.
That's what I was feeling at the moment. Usually it goes away after a couple of days filled with feelings of uneasiness. But for some reason, after this trip, I sunk into another depression, which would land me in group therapy.

When we were approaching Chester, Acacia asked if I wanted to stay another night at her house, seeing as she would be too tired to drive into Bellow's Falls. As much as I adore Acacia, I didn't feel like staying another night in an unfamiliar place, and begged her to take me to my own home. I wanted to see my mother, and to sleep in my own bed. Kindly, she agreed, on the condition that I hand her a Rice Krispy treat to give her enough energy to get us both home. I obliged and we continued on to Bellow's Falls.
We pulled up in front of my house. I knew it was late, but I didn't know what time it was, only that it was dark. It may have been anywhere between 10 PM and Midnight. I gathered my things, my overnight bag, my backpack, the tote full of food and the cooler. So much stuff to drag inside! Then Acacia and I said our farewells, and I staggered into the house.

The end of our adventure is rather anticlimactic, I'm afraid. As soon as I got in the house, I dropped all the bags on the nearest chair, and changed into a pair of pajamas. I told my mother all about my day, describing rides, telling her how expensive it everything was.
I was exhausted, my body ached and my throat was hoarse from screaming on the roller coasters. Emotionally, I felt a little drained, the excitement of the day being over and all
And as I went to bed that night, physically and emotionally worn out, I knew one thing for certain.
I was going to write about this day in my blog.

Well, that's it. The damn memoir is finally finished. Maybe now I can write about something meaningful. Or, I can just write another self-indulgent memoir.

Fox and Squirrel Pt. 10

This may or may not be the last chapter of my most self-indulgent memoir ever. I don't know. As always though, my memory might be hazy, and I may not get everything in linear order.

Part 10: A Disturbing and Tacky Little Tableau
Right after we left The Steamin' Demon we wandered around a little bit. I noticed, set up around the arcade, were a bunch of coin-operated barrels, which would vibrate and bounce up and down. Being an immature git, I had a few crude thoughts about the vibrating barrels.
I also noticed a statue of a grizzled old miner. You could sit on his lap and have your photo taken. I briefly considered having Acacia take a photo of me with this statue, for a lark, but I decided against it. I thought it would waste precious time we could be spending on rides.

We decided to ride an old favorite of mine, The Desperado Plunge. That's right, friends and neighbors, they changed the ride back to it's original name! It was briefly called The Poland Springs Plunge, for obvious marketing reasons. But now it's back to its maiden name, why I do not know.
The line was relatively short, compared to the first time I rode it, back in 1999. We were behind some people, who I found to be rather obnoxious and poorly educated. You've probably noticed by now, that I can be quite judgmental.
While we were waiting, we somehow ended up cutting in front of these idiots. If I remember correctly, when the line moved, they were too busy yammering away to notice. They were holding up the line, so Acacia and I moved in front of them, I felt bad about doing so, but then I figured, you snooze you lose. They probably would have done the same thing to us.
Our stuff was already neatly put away in little cubbies, which, rather than being next to the area where riders board and exit, were right next to the line. They created a little divider between the line and the exit, so that when you left the ride, you could grab them without a fuss.

Our turn came very quickly, thanks to cutting those idiots in line. Our barrel-shaped, aquatic chariot floated up to us, the brown vinyl seats splattered with water. That's the one thing I hate about log flumes and river rapid rides, is that the seats are always wet.
Acacia graciously let me have the back compartment, where one is less likely to get splashed, and she took the front. There aren't any seat belts on this ride, despite it's steep drop. There are however, handles that one can hold onto during any rough parts of the ride.

The gate holding us back lifted, and the current swept us out of the station (perhaps with the aid of some gears and motors). The ride moved gently, bumping along the sides of the canal.
Then, it was lifted uphill by way of conveyor belt (a part I hate, because, despite the rubber coating in the conveyor belt, I always feel like the little boat is slipping backwards), to be released onto some rapids. The ride is faster and bumpier at this point, going down little dips. Water splashes up over the sides, soaking riders.
Also at this point during the ride, one notices the park's outskirts, a lot like a junkyard, where one can see the remains of old rides, rusting for all eternity. The Rainbow was there, it's lights gone, only a heap of unloved machinery. I pointed it out to Acacia, and told her how much I hate seeing the outskirts of the park.

I was enjoying the ride, until we entered the weird building which looks like a warehouse. That's the building which has The Great Escape sign painted on it's side (facing towards traffic), as well as a bunch of creepy dummies inside, which are supposed to be loggers. Those dummies have always disturbed me, because, let's face it, mannequins are creepy as fuck.
I looked around boldly, challenging my fear. I also remarked that the musty smell reminded of The Shelburne Museum. Then, came the part of the ride I dread. Right before the drop, above the rider's head are two sinister dummies. One of them is attached to a spinning log, seemingly in danger, reaching out towards the riders below him. The other is an equally terrified looking fellow, tangled in ropes, reaching out to the dummy stuck on the log. It's a disturbing and tacky little tableau. I had been hoping they had removed these chaps, but my hopes were dashed.

Right before we went down the drop, I looked to my left and noticed an employee, sitting on a chair. Why was he there? What was the point of sitting in that creepy, musty little building all day, with those fucked up dummies? I would hate that job, having to sit right in front those two creepy mannequins, watching people plummet down a hill, day in and day out.
We greeted the man, which I imagine most people don't do (I think it's the guys job to tell people to hold on tight or something like that). Then our little boat tipped down hill.
The drop was not as steep as I remembered, nor was the splash as big. It came up over the sides, but it barely touched me. It probably splashed Acacia a little more, though, seeing as she sat in the front.
The boat floated into the station and we got off the ride. When we went to collect our things, I was treated to a shock. My coke cup was gone! Someone had taken it, and thrown it out! I don't know who did it, if it was an employee, or if the people we had cut in line took their revenge on us by tossing my soda cup. Maybe someone had just decided to be a dick and throw it out, or they knocked it over. But it was gone. There had only been ice in it, but I was still highly offended that someone would be rude enough to throw it out while we were on the ride. It makes me think, if someone can just go into one of the cubbies and throw out someone else's drink cup, what's to stop them from going through that person's belongings and stealing?

I was still seething when we went to the photo counter to see the picture of us going down the hill. I can't remember what we looked like nor did we buy the picture, simply because we didn't have the money to spare.

We decided to ride The Canyon Blaster, which is a mild roller coaster marketed as "a family coaster". I was convinced that this was going to be our last ride of the day, based off of the information I'd heard about the park closing at seven. The park employee who had told us this had been wrong. The park closed at eight PM, whereas just Splashwater Kingdom closed at seven. But at the time, I didn't know that. I was convinced that, since it was so close to seven, that this was our last thrill before retreating home to Vermont.
The line was very short, so we had to do a lot of running to get to the end of it. While we were running, a group of fourteen year old boys cut in front of us. I expressed my frustration, and the woman operating the ride noticed what had occurred. She scolded the boys, and let us cut in front of them! I felt bad about it actually, having to cut in front of these boys. The whole thing wasn't a big deal after all.
But neither Acacia nor I said anything, and awkwardly cut in front of the boys. They apologized to us for cutting, (even though technically they had just passed by us while we were running) and I wanted to apologize for our being allowed to cut them. I had feared they would be rude to us because of the ride operator's decision, but that was not the case. They bore us no ill will, and even conversed with us briefly.

Acacia and I decided we would sit at the front of the roller coaster. I've only sat at the front of a coaster once before. It was at Hershey Park in 2007, on a coaster very similar to The Canyon Blaster. Briefly, I felt bad about choosing the front, wondering if the young men we'd cut had wanted the prize seats. But I wanted to sit there, and after putting our stuff away, we did just that, buckling ourselves in and lowering the lap bar.
The ride operator asked us if we were ready, to which we responded with a joyous shout. This response wasn't good enough for her though, because she demanded that we scream louder, before starting the ride.
The coaster was fun, but not nearly as fast or wild as the other coasters we had ridden that day. It had some some dips, some sharp turns and even went through a tunnel, but it just wasn't as fierce as The Boomerang or The Comet. When the ride stopped suddenly, my breasts and stomach made painful contact with the lap bar.

The day was getting close to ending. We decided there was still time for a few last rides though, and made our way back into Story Town, though not through the tunnel. We wandered the area, wondering what to ride next. Acacia suggested The Grand Carousel but I didn't want to ride that. I had never ridden the Swan Boats before, so I suggested we ride those instead. This ride consists of several swan shaped boats that tour around the park. By the time we got there though, the only operating boat was already about to disembark, with only a small family aboard. Though there was room for Acacia and I on the boat, we were still left behind. It was going to be a long wait until their ride would be over and there wasn't another boat or operator available. We tried waiting, but became very frustrated and decided to ride something else. I was disappointed, but did not want to waste time by waiting.
We went into the Fest Area and decided to ride The Sky Ride. It's a ride a lot like a ski lift, with little brightly colored gondolas which move slowly along a cable. The ride offers a birds eye view of the park and is very slow and gentle.
We got in line, which wasn't very long. The boarding station looks like a stereotypical Arabian palace, straight out of Aladdin, painted white, gold and purple. When it was our turn, we stood on a yellow line, waiting for our little gondola to come up behind us. When it bumped up against us, we sat down, then lowered the lap bar. When the ride is operating, the cable never stops moving, so the gondolas are always circulating. The gondola ride at Hershey Park does not do this. It stops every time some gets on or off the ride, leaving people dangling in mid-air. It is not a pleasant experience, especially if the kids in front of you are swinging their gondola back and forth, making the entire cable tremble. Luckily, I have never experienced this at the Great Escape. Also, it's verboten to make your gondola swing back and forth on their Sky Ride.

I don't remember what color our gondola was. It may have been orange. The ride was slow, and so relaxing, it was verging on the side of boring. Below us, a bunch of employees in Looney Tunes costumes danced to The Six Flags theme song. Other employees joined them, and even a few guests danced along. It was their end-of-the-day ritual, a signal to park goers that the day was ending, and the park would be closing soon. Acacia and I boogied in our little gondola, careful not to shake it too much.
The ride was very long. We spent it, not only dancing, but talking very seriously, about subjects I can't recall. I was feeling tired, and I wanted to get off the ride.

The worst part about The Sky Ride is when your gondola switches cables, so it can return to the station. This part of the ride is in an isolated part of the park, surrounded by trees. Usually, I hate this part the most of all, and feel so uncomfortable, but this time it wasn't so bad. Why? Because I saw a squirrel, running around in the woods below us, probably looking for scraps. Wild animals often live in or near parks, because the smells of food and trash attract them. Seeing the squirrel made me happy, during a part of the ride that usually makes me feel uncomfortable and even scared.
The final half of the ride was less than pleasant to me. I felt anxious to get off, partly because I wanted to join in the festivities below, and also because the tweens sitting behind us we're annoying me. I can't remember why, but they were.

When we got off the ride, I found that my legs were in excruciating pain. They had this heavy ache, which made walking difficult. Even though I had been walking around all day, they did not begin to ache until I had gotten off the Sky Ride. I thought maybe the length of the ride, or even the way I was sitting may have caused it. I just don't know.
Right next to The Sky Ride, were the swings, which go by the name The Flying Trapeze. We decided to ride them, making it our official last ride of the day.

Fox and Squirrel Pt. 9

And now, more of my longest most self-indulgent memoir ever written! I got my information on the parks history from themeparks.lovetoknow.com and wikipedia.

Part 9: This is Probably a Bad Time to Tell You I'm Pregnant
We wandered around the Fest Area, which is the section of park that boasts classic amusement park rides and games. Like many amusement parks, the Great Escape is divided into themed sections. I would like to take a moment to describe the different sections of the park to you, and discuss a brief history of The Great Escape as well.
First there is the little International Village at the park entrance. Designed to mimic a little Bavarian village, it mainly features gift shops, stroller rentals and park information. It's pretty but boring, seeing as it doesn't have any rides.
Then there is Storytown, which is the oldest part of the park, being 56 years old. The Great Escape was originally called Storytown USA, a Mother Goose themed amusement park that had been built in 1954. It had little child-sized buildings straight out of beloved nursery rhymes and fairy tales. It built up over the years, until it became The Great Escape in 1983. Storytown, is now the fairytale themed section of the park, featuring a beautiful river, rides, places to eat, games and shows. It's one of my favorite parts of the park. Those little child sized buildings are still standing too, though they're a little careworn.

Another section of the park is Ghost Town, which is the wild west themed part of the park. It was also a part of the original Storytown USA; it was created in 1957 when the owner, Charles Wood realized his park was only entertaining to little kids. It has some wild west themed rides, restaurants and shows as well as some arcade games.
Splashwater Kingdom is yet another section, a world of it's own. I think you know what part of the park it is by now, if you've read my last three or four entries. It's theme is varied, parts of it are tropical, parts of it have a Paul Bunyan theme. In proximity to Splashwater is a picnic area called the North Woods Picnic Grove. Large groups accumulate here for picnics, even though outside food is banned (Perhaps The Great Escape provides catering? I know Hershey's Chocolate World does). During October, it becomes a Haunted House, one which I almost went in one year, but the line was way too long. One day, I'll go in.
The Fest Area is supposed to be like your classic amusement park, with a Bavarian theme. I have noticed that a lot of amusement parks like to use the whole Bavarian fest theme, but I am not sure why. It has classic rides and games, lots of food and even a bungee jump ride, which costs 45 bucks for one rider, 50 for two and 60 for three. The fest area is the largest part of the park and features the most rides.

At The Great Escape, there are also sections of the park designated specifically for young children. The first of these is Looney Tunes National Park. The theme is quite obviously centered around the classic cartoon and major franchise, with kiddie rides based off of the characters. Looney Tunes National Park replaced Jungleland, which was a Jungle themed section created in 1960. It didn't really have much except a zoo, and a really cool Jungle Walk, which had fake animals peeping out of foliage and wobbly rope bridges. When they demolished Jungleland and made it into LTNP, they kept the Jungle Walk, but made it into some kind of Bugs Bunny walk. I wandered into this section of the park out of curiosity, once in 2005. I found it bright, colorful and rather tacky, to be honest.
The second section designated for ankle biters is Wiggles World. The Wiggles are a musical group just for little kids, in the same vein as Raffi. Parents blow all their money to bring their precious little babes to the band's concerts and to buy the albums, all for varying excuses. Some of these excuses could be honorable, though I think most people's intentions are less kid-oriented, and geared more towards one upping all the other parents in the "Who is the Number 1 Parent?" contest. Either way, in the end, the parents usually end up enjoying the cheerful demented music far more than the child ever does.
So The Great Escape cashed in on this franchise in 2008, creating a bright, psychedelic haven for little kids to play in, so that they could enjoy the park just as much as the older folks can. (Though I reflect now, that there are more kiddie rides than thrill rides at most fairs and theme parks). Wiggles World is the smallest park section, with only three rides and one restaurant. I've never personally explored it, though I walked past it during my most recent Great Escape trip.

Now that I have bored you sufficiently with a tangent of useless trivia and details, let me continue on with the true story. We were in the fest area, as I mentioned much earlier, and were trying to see how many rides we could possibly get on. I was extremely picky. After riding roller coasters and other extreme rides, I was craving an intense thrill. We chose a classic, The Cannonball Express, which is a Himalaya ride. I love Himalayas, I've loved them since I was ten. The Himalaya at the Great Escape has a funky disco theme. Usually, they play music to accompany you as you ride. But this time, there was no music.

Without the music, the ride wasn't as fun. Music adds to the pleasure of the ride. You don't necessarily need it, but it makes the experience a lot more exciting. When it comes to thrill rides, music adds to the sensory experience. I have noticed this is especially so with Himalayas and scramblers, but I have not figured out a reason yet.
The ride went fast, but not fast enough, nor did it last as long as I had hoped. Like I said, without the music it didn't satisfy as well as it could of. Anyway, I liked the Cannonball Express a lot less since they stopped making it go backwards. When I first rode it 1o or 11 years ago, it used to go backwards and forwards, but sometime in 2000/2001 they abruptly stopped the practice, probably because some idiot injured themselves.

After we got off The Cannonball express, we decided to ride The Blizzard. The Blizzard is a scrambler ride which is painted light blue, with a snowflake motif. There used to be a scrambler called the Magical Mystery Ride, which was housed inside a large green dome. In those days, it was painted bright orange, and spun you about in the dark, music and strobe lights adding to the fun. But sometime between 2004 and 2005, it was shut down and now there is a scrambler in the same area where the Flying Elephants ride used to stand.
Most scramblers are fast and furious, but this one was not going fast enough. This is the second time in the past two years I have gotten on a scrambler and found that it went unbearably slow. This usually occurs when kids are riding, probably because the ride operator doesn't want them to be too scared or get sick. Scramblers are supposed to go fast, that is why they are called scramblers. Their speed, combined with the circular motion is supposed to leave you disoriented and well, scrambled. Making the ride slow is, in a way, like castrating a bull. It takes out all the fire, all the fun. The bull becomes fat and docile, and the ride becomes dull.

After we exited the disappointing ride (I thought it was so, I do not remember how my companion felt about riding it), we went through the Alice In Wonderland Adventure. It's basically a walk-through, as opposed to a ride, loosely based of off the Disney cartoon (not the fantastic Tim Burton version of Alice). It's a part of the original Storytown USA, having been built in 1960.
We started our Alice Adventure by entering a giant hole in a tree, and walking through a bizarre red and black striped tunnel. Then we found ourselves in a room where all the furniture is three times bigger than you are. This room is actually very creepy, because it's so dusty and the lighting is bad. I usually want to get out as soon as possible.
At some point during the walk-through, we saw Alice's giant legs sticking out of a house (for some reason I just love that imagery). Also featured were The Hatter, giant mushrooms, flowers and blades of grass and the soldiers made of cards. I'm afraid I didn't pay a lot of attention, because I was too busy thinking of how much time we had left in the park. I was also distracted by the high-pitched whine of the child ahead of us throwing an epic hissy fit.

When we left the Alice Adventure, we had decided to ride the Sasquatch again. Our reasoning was that the park was probably going to close soon (it actually was not) and that we might as well squeeze in one more good ride. So we made our way back to the great towers and decided to ride the second tower, as opposed to the one we had ridden earlier that day. While we were getting in line however, a group of boys jumped in front of us, cutting us in line. We had been following the rules and not jumping over the line railings, but these little bastards disregarded that rule and us. When we voiced our displeasure, they behaved disrespectfully towards us. Then the two of us launched into a rant about how rude kids are. I am of the solid opinion, that most of today's youth are nothing but a bunch of spoiled, degenerate assholes. I know, it is odd hearing a 21 year old woman, still so young herself, say such a thing, but I stand by my opinion.
We were cut in front of twice while waiting for that ride. The first time was non-consensual, but the second time we let some kids go in front of us on the grounds that their group was going to leave the park in a few minutes and they wanted to ride The Sasquatch before they left. For all I know, they could of been lying, but we gave them the benefit of the doubt.

The second time we rode the Sasquatch was not as fun as the first. It shot up to the top of the tower, just like the last time, but this time, it seemed that we stayed up there for an eternity. We could hear the ride operator over the intercom above our seats, asking us if we were ready. Yes! Yes, we were! So let's get it over with!
When it finally did drop, I felt sick to my stomach. It didn't feel as exhilarating as it did the first time. In fact, it was actually a bit frightening this time. I do not know why this was so.
We got off the Sasquatch, and decided that it was high time to get some funnel cake. I love funnel cake. It's like a fancy version of fry bread, and is often served with powdered sugar or even soft serve ice cream. They are usually found at theme parks and festivals, like most other tasty artery clogging snacks.
I bought a funnel cake and a coke for Acacia and I to share. The whole thing cost around eleven dollars. It never ceases to amaze me, just how ludicrously expensive amusement park food is. But what choice does one have? Sometimes, you just have to have a funnel cake. People will pay these exorbitant prices, because they love the delicious unhealthy treats sold at theme parks and because Americans in general just love spending their cash. We're addicted to consumerism. We'll bitch and moan about the expense, but we will pay anyway, simply because that's how we're programmed.

We sat down on a bench and ate the hot funnel cake, powdered sugar dusting our chests and grease coating our fingertips. It was very delicious. Funnel cake is slightly crunchier than fry bread (fried dough), possibly because of it's shape. I enjoy this texture difference very much. As much as I love my fry bread (and trust me, I love my fry bread), I actually prefer funnel cake, especially with vanilla soft serve as a topping. Whoever decided that hot fried dough and cold sweet ice cream go good together should be given a Nobel prize.
When we finished eating, we stood up, brushed the powdered sugar off of our chests, wiped our hands off and decided what to do next. As we did so, I joked that the sugar on my chest looked like cocaine.
"Looks like I did a lot of blow," I had said.
We has decided to go into Ghost Town, and see if we could squeeze in any more rides (there was still some concern over when the park would close). So we tossed our trash, and made our way to the rock tunnel that connects Ghost Town to Story Town.

The tunnel was the same as ever, though it was not as cool (temperature wise) as I remembered. The gum was still stuck to the ceiling, though. When we passed the window with the waterfall, I stuck my hand under the water, which by this time of the day was lukewarm. Families with screaming, bawling kids walked past us, headed in the opposite direction. The tunnel was much longer than I remembered.
On the other side, Ghost Town lived up to it's moniker. It was quite empty, only a few people milling around. It was a little drab and boring compared to the rest of the park and didn't have a lot of rides. It has in total, four rides, I think. It used to have five but, The Nightmare roller coaster shut down for some mysterious reason. I always wanted to ride that, but never got to. The line was always too long. It also used to have an old-timey train ride, but I think that was closed down before I even started going to the Great Escape.
We bypassed The Condor, the "family thrill ride" which has traumatized me so many times and went straight for The Steamin' Demon roller coaster, which I hadn't ridden in ten years, not since my very first trip to the Great Escape.
The line for the coaster was rather short. It was nearing the end of the day, and there were much less people at the park, so the lines to rides were shorter
Our turn arrived, and we sat in my usual spot, in the middle, slightly near the back. We stored our glasses in the cubbies, buckled in and pulled the shoulder restraints down. I was only slightly nervous, not having ridden this coaster in ten long years, but willing do it, still high from the adrenaline rush of The Sasquatch and The Comet.

Like the Comet, this steel coaster started out slowly, staying low to the ground, before climbing up a steep hill. During our ascent, I turned to Acacia and said jokingly, loud enough for the other riders to hear:
"This is probably a bad time to tell you I'm pregnant,"
I don't rightly remember her reaction, but I do remember telling her that I love the idea of telling someone that you're pregnant, while riding a roller coaster. I've decided that every time I ride a roller coaster, I'm going to turn to the person next to me, and tell them that I am expecting.
At the top of the hill, instead of dropping right away, we made a sharp turn which led us to a very steep drop. We plummeted down the hill, then before we could fathom what was happening we were going through a loop, then several corkscrew turns. The Steamin' Demon is very fast and disorienting in this way. The ride isn't very long, but it's very exciting.
When we returned to the station, the ride operator didn't stop the ride or anything, he actually let us go through a second time! This happens rarely in the world of amusement parks, usually because of long lines, but here we were being given a twofer!
The second time around was just as fun, but this time, I noticed that during the corkscrew turns, my head would knock into the sides of the shoulder restraints, boxing my ears painfully. But I endured this as gracefully as I could, if one can be graceful while riding a roller coaster.
When we got off the ride, we got right back in line, to ride it all over again. Once on the ride, we made the usual jokes about being pregnant on roller coaster ("though not for long" I added). Also, during this ride, I experienced another painful ear boxing at the hands of my treacherous shoulder restraints (I love how the very devices that are supposed to keep you safe, get you hurt!).
The ride ended quickly, no twofer this time around, and we made our exit. I was slightly bitter that we didn't go around twice again, but shook it off. We had other rides to ride and not a lot of time to do it.