I am a taphophile. That is, I love cemeteries, tombs, gravestones etc. Don't let the suffix, -phile mislead you, for my passion is of a non-sexual nature. I am, however, often reluctant to use the term 'taphophile', for fear of misinterpretation of its meaning, by those who may not understand the term. When discussing my hobby, I just say "I am a cemetery enthusiast".
A lot of people don't understand my attraction to cemeteries, and frankly I don't understand why I love them, either. For you see, when I was a child, I was terrified of graveyards.
One of my earliest memories involves my mother taking me to a cemetery in Bristol, VT. I must have been two or three. I wasn't afraid, being too young to know what a cemetery was. It didn't occur to me that there were dead people under my feet. As far as I was concerned, those big stone things were for climbing. I recall attempting to scale an obelisk, only to have Mom pluck me off the monument.
As I got older, and I learned what cemeteries were, I developed a mild phobia of cemeteries, mixed with fascination. When one of my older sisters made me take a shortcut through a cemetery I was terrified, not because I was afraid of ghosts (the idea that a cemetery could be haunted never even crossed my mind), but because I was walking on dead people. I remember being disturbed by the sight of a baby's gravestone, shaped like a teddy bear.
When my sisters told me to hold my breath whenever we passed a cemetery, and keep holding my breath until we saw a white house, I complied, even though they never told me why I should hold my breath.
But it wasn't all fright and superstition. There were laughs, too. For as long as I can remember, every time we'd drive past a graveyard my Dad would point and say, "Hey kids, people are dying to get in there,". No matter how old the joke got, I always insisted on hearing it.
In the fifth grade, the special Civil War class I was taking (the school I was attending did elective classes, such as drama, or French. You signed up on a first come first serve basis) took a trip to a cemetery in Burlington. We were looking for the graves of Union generals and soldiers and I took the entire adventure very seriously. I prayed at the graves we visited and even scolded the ear off of a classmate who broke a child's gravestone by sitting on it. I remember the grave that he had broken had a lamb statue on it, and was in the segregated African American section of the cemetery. I remember our teacher (who was also the school sheriff) explaining to us that this part of the cemetery was in bad shape, because of racism.
Around the age of 10, while reading up on ghosts, I finally figured out that cemeteries could be haunted. I reacted to this idea with fear and curiosity. I wanted to go to a cemetery and conjure up some ghosts. As I grew up, my fear of cemeteries turned into a fascination. When my 7th grade social studies class went on a field trip to a local cemetery too look for the graves of notable historical citizens, I was so excited I didn't even bother doing our assignment, I just wandered around in a state of joy.
For a long time, cemetery visits were a rarity. I vaguely recall visiting a small 19th century cemetery in Willsboro, NY one humid July 4th, but other than that, my curiosity went unsatisfied.
It wasn't until I moved to Bellows Falls VT, that I started to become a full blown taphophile. I loved going to cemeteries now, dragging friends along with me. When I couldn't find anyone to join me, I'd go by myself, though I felt uncomfortable doing so, due to a slight fear of ghosts.
One day, in fall of 2007, I happened upon a website named Grave Addiction. It was like the heavens had opened up and shone down upon me. Not only could I enjoy cemeteries from all over the country without having to leave my house, but I had gleaned some very important knowledge. I was not alone. There were others like me out there. Other people who shared a deep passion for cemeteries, funerals and the fine art of mourning. Beth's website inspired me to fully embrace my love for graveyards and, what started as a fascination became a part of my identity. When I go on long road trips, I count how many cemeteries we drive by. I walk long distances just to visit a favorite graveyard.
And yet, the old fears never left me. I still won't go into cemeteries at night, at least not by myself. I don't know where this particular phobia came from, but it seems to stem more from a primeval fear of the dark, of the unknown, than the cemetery itself. There could be anything hiding in the gloom- ghosts, monsters, psycho murderers, Snooki.
I also can't go into certain cemeteries by myself, even in the daytime. For instance, I've had so many paranormal experiences in Oak Hill cemetery in Bellows Falls VT, that I just won't go in there alone (though I've still had some eerie experiences even with a companion). I'm working on this fear, by daring myself to go into creepy cemeteries on my own. I've even developed a mantra to help me "The dead can't hurt me. It's the living I've got to fear".
How did I go from being afraid of cemeteries, to loving them? How can I both fear and love something? I've gone over this again and again. Why do I love cemeteries? Why am I so fascinated by the macabre? Why am I so drawn to death, despite my fears? Is it my fear that attracts me? There aren't any simple answers, I'm afraid. Nothing that I can interpret from my brain to the keyboard (curse you, Non-verbal Learning Disorder! Curse you!), at least. I think the best I can do, is stop thinking about the why of things, and just enjoy being a taphophile.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
My Weirdest Cemetery Experiences
I love cemeteries. Really, I do. During spring, summer and fall, I visit them as often as I can. Most of these visits are pleasant, relaxing even. I see interesting gravestones, and sometimes spot wildlife. But every so often, while I'm taking in the tombs, something completely bizarre will happen.
In this blog, I will describe the six weirdest things that have ever happened me in a cemetery. I've probably got more than six, but these are the ones I remember. Each one will be given a rating of 1-10, 1 being "A Little Odd" and ten being "Completely Fucking Bizarre". Enjoy...
1. The Peacocks
One day, in the summer 0f 2007, I was walking through Restland Cemetery, in Bellows Falls, VT. By the fence on the far side of the cemetery, I saw a large white shape. The first thought that came to my mind was that I was seeing a ghost. So I started to move towards it, to get a better look.
It wasn't a ghost. It was an albino peacock! Behind it, was another, smaller peacock, a female, though not albino. I know what you're thinking. Peacocks? In a Vermont cemetery? Astounded, I ran out of the cemetery and down the street to my friends Lauren's house. I needed a second witness, to prove that I wasn't hallucinating. Lauren wasn't home, but her Uncle was and he went out to the cemetery with me, to take a look. We stood at the fence near the gate, and I pointed out the two birds. No, I wasn't hallucinating. Yes, those were peacocks. Probably somebody's pets, he reasoned. I thanked him, and went back into the cemetery. I continued to watch the peacocks, hiding behind a large monument so as not to startle them. At some point, a man and a woman about my age took a shortcut through the graveyard, walking right past the peacocks. They didn't seem to notice the two exotic birds that were less than ten feet away from them. They were oblivious, much to my surprise. In the 4 years since, I never saw those peacocks again, though I've been to Restland hundreds of times. On a scale of 1 to 10 in the Weirdness, this experience was a 10. Completely Fucking Bizarre.
2. The Impromptu Concert
Another summer day, this time in 2008. I was taking a walk, when I noticed I was being followed by two girls who I had had some problems with in high school. Paranoid, I tried to evade them. I turned onto the street that led to St. Immanuel Episcopal cemetery, also in Bellows Falls, VT. They continued to follow me. Starting to feel a little bit nervous (understatement of the century), I entered the cemetery, hoping they wouldn't follow me in there. But just being in the little churchyard wasn't good enough. They'd still see me in the older section, so I started to climb the steep hill up into the more hidden new section of St. Immanuel's, which has a scattering of new headstones and a memorial garden. I could have taken the asphalt path that led up there, but I was panicking, and not thinking so clearly as a result. Once I reached the top of the hill, I was treated to the site of two men playing drums and the didgeridoo. I was surprised, but not frightened. These were just two men playing music, not two teenage girls with a grudge. So I plopped down onto the grass and listened to the impromptu concert. When they finished playing, I talked to the two gentleman for a little bit. They proved to be very polite and pleasant company.
On a scale of 1-10 this little episode was about a 6. It was weird, but considering the fact that I live in VT, not terribly uncommon.
3. The Crow Wing
I was in Old South Church Cemetery, in Windsor, VT, in April of 2010 when I stumbled across a rather grisly sight. At the base of an early 19th century gravestone, lay a dismembered bird wing. A large one. I suspected it was a crow. It had been torn off at the joint, probably by a predator. I looked around for other bird parts, but only the wing remained. Curious, I took a stick and flipped the wing over, to check the feathers for markings. Glossy black feathers, but no markings. It probably belonged to a crow or a raven. I assumed it was a crow, because there were a whole bunch of them in the trees above me. And that's where it gets weird (as if finding a dismembered crow wing wasn't weird enough). As soon as I had moved the wing, the living birds above my head began to squawk angrily at me, as if scolding me for disturbing that wing. I apologized, and moved the wing back into the position I found it (using the stick, I never touch a wild animal carcass with my bare hands). When I went to the cemetery the next day, the wing was gone, probably carried off by a scavenger.
I give this one about a 5. It was sinister, it was creepy, but bits of dead animals are a part of nature.
4. The Cemetery Gnome
In either late summer or early fall of 2010, I was wandering Restland Cemetery when I stumbled across a garden gnome. A garden gnome. It looked like a vintage one too, sitting at the base of a 19th century headstone. Where the hell did it come from? Amused, I snapped a picture of it on my camera. A few weeks later, I showed the picture to some acquaintances. When I went to the cemetery again, the gnome was gone. Was it stolen? Did it just get up and walk away? My guess is the former, but I'll never know. All in all the experience was about an 8. It was just weird.
5. Robert Frost's Tupperware.
On the eve of my twentieth birthday, my mother and I were driving to my aunt's house in NY. We passed through Bennington, VT, and as a treat, my mom stopped to take me to the Old Bennington Cemetery. Robert Frost is buried there, and the first thing we did, was find his grave. As we paid our respects, I noticed an empty Tupperware container sitting next to his grave. Where did it come from? Did somebody have a picnic and just leave it behind? Odd. I'm giving this one a 1. It's weird, but not as weird as the gnome.
6. Squirrel Attack
Once again, we find ourselves in Old South Church Cemetery. So here I am, walking under some pine trees by the cold storage crypt when I hear a loud thump behind me. Assuming it's a ghost, I scream and jump about a foot in the air. But there were no ghosts here. Just a pine cone. A pine cone had fallen and nearly hit me. I look up, and sitting in the tree is a squirrel, screaming indignantly at me. Had the squirrel thrown the pine cone at me? Probably not. But the thought's a funny one. I give it a 1. It's really not so much weird, as it was hilarious.
In this blog, I will describe the six weirdest things that have ever happened me in a cemetery. I've probably got more than six, but these are the ones I remember. Each one will be given a rating of 1-10, 1 being "A Little Odd" and ten being "Completely Fucking Bizarre". Enjoy...
1. The Peacocks
One day, in the summer 0f 2007, I was walking through Restland Cemetery, in Bellows Falls, VT. By the fence on the far side of the cemetery, I saw a large white shape. The first thought that came to my mind was that I was seeing a ghost. So I started to move towards it, to get a better look.
It wasn't a ghost. It was an albino peacock! Behind it, was another, smaller peacock, a female, though not albino. I know what you're thinking. Peacocks? In a Vermont cemetery? Astounded, I ran out of the cemetery and down the street to my friends Lauren's house. I needed a second witness, to prove that I wasn't hallucinating. Lauren wasn't home, but her Uncle was and he went out to the cemetery with me, to take a look. We stood at the fence near the gate, and I pointed out the two birds. No, I wasn't hallucinating. Yes, those were peacocks. Probably somebody's pets, he reasoned. I thanked him, and went back into the cemetery. I continued to watch the peacocks, hiding behind a large monument so as not to startle them. At some point, a man and a woman about my age took a shortcut through the graveyard, walking right past the peacocks. They didn't seem to notice the two exotic birds that were less than ten feet away from them. They were oblivious, much to my surprise. In the 4 years since, I never saw those peacocks again, though I've been to Restland hundreds of times. On a scale of 1 to 10 in the Weirdness, this experience was a 10. Completely Fucking Bizarre.
2. The Impromptu Concert
Another summer day, this time in 2008. I was taking a walk, when I noticed I was being followed by two girls who I had had some problems with in high school. Paranoid, I tried to evade them. I turned onto the street that led to St. Immanuel Episcopal cemetery, also in Bellows Falls, VT. They continued to follow me. Starting to feel a little bit nervous (understatement of the century), I entered the cemetery, hoping they wouldn't follow me in there. But just being in the little churchyard wasn't good enough. They'd still see me in the older section, so I started to climb the steep hill up into the more hidden new section of St. Immanuel's, which has a scattering of new headstones and a memorial garden. I could have taken the asphalt path that led up there, but I was panicking, and not thinking so clearly as a result. Once I reached the top of the hill, I was treated to the site of two men playing drums and the didgeridoo. I was surprised, but not frightened. These were just two men playing music, not two teenage girls with a grudge. So I plopped down onto the grass and listened to the impromptu concert. When they finished playing, I talked to the two gentleman for a little bit. They proved to be very polite and pleasant company.
On a scale of 1-10 this little episode was about a 6. It was weird, but considering the fact that I live in VT, not terribly uncommon.
3. The Crow Wing
I was in Old South Church Cemetery, in Windsor, VT, in April of 2010 when I stumbled across a rather grisly sight. At the base of an early 19th century gravestone, lay a dismembered bird wing. A large one. I suspected it was a crow. It had been torn off at the joint, probably by a predator. I looked around for other bird parts, but only the wing remained. Curious, I took a stick and flipped the wing over, to check the feathers for markings. Glossy black feathers, but no markings. It probably belonged to a crow or a raven. I assumed it was a crow, because there were a whole bunch of them in the trees above me. And that's where it gets weird (as if finding a dismembered crow wing wasn't weird enough). As soon as I had moved the wing, the living birds above my head began to squawk angrily at me, as if scolding me for disturbing that wing. I apologized, and moved the wing back into the position I found it (using the stick, I never touch a wild animal carcass with my bare hands). When I went to the cemetery the next day, the wing was gone, probably carried off by a scavenger.
I give this one about a 5. It was sinister, it was creepy, but bits of dead animals are a part of nature.
4. The Cemetery Gnome
In either late summer or early fall of 2010, I was wandering Restland Cemetery when I stumbled across a garden gnome. A garden gnome. It looked like a vintage one too, sitting at the base of a 19th century headstone. Where the hell did it come from? Amused, I snapped a picture of it on my camera. A few weeks later, I showed the picture to some acquaintances. When I went to the cemetery again, the gnome was gone. Was it stolen? Did it just get up and walk away? My guess is the former, but I'll never know. All in all the experience was about an 8. It was just weird.
5. Robert Frost's Tupperware.
On the eve of my twentieth birthday, my mother and I were driving to my aunt's house in NY. We passed through Bennington, VT, and as a treat, my mom stopped to take me to the Old Bennington Cemetery. Robert Frost is buried there, and the first thing we did, was find his grave. As we paid our respects, I noticed an empty Tupperware container sitting next to his grave. Where did it come from? Did somebody have a picnic and just leave it behind? Odd. I'm giving this one a 1. It's weird, but not as weird as the gnome.
6. Squirrel Attack
Once again, we find ourselves in Old South Church Cemetery. So here I am, walking under some pine trees by the cold storage crypt when I hear a loud thump behind me. Assuming it's a ghost, I scream and jump about a foot in the air. But there were no ghosts here. Just a pine cone. A pine cone had fallen and nearly hit me. I look up, and sitting in the tree is a squirrel, screaming indignantly at me. Had the squirrel thrown the pine cone at me? Probably not. But the thought's a funny one. I give it a 1. It's really not so much weird, as it was hilarious.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Saturday Part 5
Sorry part 4 was ridiculously long. I always add too many details. *sighs* Maybe I can finish this now that I've had a break.
Part 5: Life's Simple Joys
My Uncle Russ and I took the walk from the Mega Wedgie, to the lawn chairs where we had left our towels and drink cups. It should have been a fairly quick stroll, but as we were walking over a little bridge, we ended up behind some fat rednecks who were moving slower than snails. I could see our stuff from where we were, and had the irrational paranoia that someone would steal our belongings within my line of sight, and I wouldn't be unable to do anything, all because some lardy asshats couldn't be buggered to ambulate a little more briskly. My fears went unfounded.
After we collected our things, my uncle and I walked back to our locker so we could change out of our soggy bathing suits and enjoy the rest of the park. First I went into the ladies' room to change, while my uncle stood by our locker. When I was finished, my uncle went to change and I waited by the locker. During this wait, my mother called me on my cell. I can't remember why she called, but I do remember that I had a lot of trouble hearing her, as the area where the rows of lockers stood was very crowded. She wanted to talk to my uncle. When my uncle stepped out of the men's room, I handed him the phone. He'd call her back later.
We walked away from the changing rooms. I left my damp bathing suit and towel in the locker, so I wouldn't have to carry them around. Anyway, I paid ten bucks for that rental, I might as well get my money's worth.
I needed more coke. I got in line at a Funnel Cake Stand, to get my free refill. The wait was unbearably long, seeing as the redneck family (rednecks, it always has to be rednecks) in front of me was taking their sweet time just to order some ice cream. Precious time was being wasted, and I was about to give up, when I saw a soda refill station right behind me. A refill station! I had stood in that line for nothing! Relieved, I hurried over to the station, showed the girl behind the counter my wristband and got more soda. Ah, Coca Cola. On a hot summer day, nothing beats a cold coke with ice, it is one of life's simple joys.
Afterwards, my uncle and I were wandering along, when my mother called. She wanted to know when we'd be leaving the park and going to Schroon Lake, where she and my sister were visiting with my aunt and grandmother. As they negotiated, I stuck my plastic straw in it's little holder and tried to see if I could drink my coke that way. I could, but it was a bad idea. Since the straw was pointing down, soda began to dribble out at an alarming rate. I am such an idiot.
I pulled the straw out of it's holder and stopped the spill. Then, my uncle and I stopped at a trashcan. Lickety-split, I whipped out my wet naps, cleaned up my soda sticky hands, and wiped off the cup. I knew those things would come in handy. I'd gotten the idea to bring wet naps, after last year, when Acacia and I had made a mess of ourselves while eating funnel cake during our trip to the Great Escape. So I had gotten a large pack of Wet Ones, in little individual packages.
I never ended up getting a funnel cake that day, but those towelettes still became indispensable to me during that long weekend.
We had until five o' clock. At five, much to our chagrin, we would have to leave The Great Escape, and go to Schroon Lake. Determined to have fun, we made our way to The Comet, which is my very favorite Roller Coaster at the Great Escape.
We waited in line behind some very loud teenage girls. Well, at least one of them, an obnoxious, hulking she-walrus, was being very loud. At one point she was so loud that she hurt my ears. I made a comment about my ear drum being punctured, and she sheepishly apologized. But she still didn't shut the fuck up.
Each car holds four people, with two rows of seats. Uncle Russ and I had the ill luck of sharing a car with Yappy Lardass and her comparatively silent companion. They sat in front of us, Yappy chattering away, telling her friend that she better put both her arms up (or something equally asinine) when the roller coaster camera takes their picture, and that they were going to ride this coaster again and again until their picture was just right. I rolled my eyes.
As the ride attendants checked seatbelts and lap bars, they high fived passengers. I vaguely recall my uncle expressing distaste for this practice. I'm not sure I like it either. I understand that being cheerful is just part of their job, but sometimes it can be a bit obnoxious.
The ride was delightful, but with one exception. Yappy Lardass and her friend were ridiculously obnoxious, squealing and squawking like retarded seagulls. At one point, one of their ponytails whacked me (though that wasn't their fault). I was sorely tempted to pull Yappy's hair in retaliation for her dumbassery.
But despite this, I enjoyed the steep hills, the intense speed, the sharp turns. When the ride was over, Yappy was still squawking about riding the Comet again, so she and her chum could get their picture just right. But fate intervened, for as we disembarked, we were informed that The Comet was having mechanical problems and was being closed down until further notice. Cruel irony! I took some sadistic joy in knowing Yappy Lardass' plans were foiled.
But the walrus had the last laugh, for when my Uncle and I went to view our roller coaster picture I was dismayed to find that my entire face had been obscured by Yappy's fleshy white arm! The skank! I dearly love seeing the expressions I make on rides (ah, I am so vain, I know) and I was disappointed and irritated. But there was no point in dwelling upon it, so my uncle and I set off to do something else.
Next, we rode The Pirate Ship. It's one of my favorites, but I remember very little of this ride. I don't think we got one of those prime back-row seats, but I still had a fine time. I always enjoy riding one of these, despite being very afraid of them as a young girl.
My memory gets very hazy right about now. I know we rode The Sasquatch a few times. At one point on the Launch Tower, I noticed the Velcro strap of my sneaker had come undone. When I was younger, this would have made me panic. But now I merely laughed, and lifted my foot up to fix, while I was 192 feet in the air! I also remember marveling over the view from the launch tower, for the sun was going down, the sky was lavender, and the moon was a gorgeous pearl in the sky. I don't remember the exactly when this happened, only how gorgeous the sky was. My memory is like that. I can't tell you where my socks are, but I can tell you how beautiful the moon was, on an early summer evening, nearly a year ago.
We also rode The Boomerang for a second time. My uncle wanted to sit in the last car, but I refused, because that car goes to the very top of the coaster. While I now enjoyed the Boomerang, I still dreaded the part of the ride where it sits still, over 50 feet in the air. As it was, I was really surprising myself by riding this coaster twice in one day. I remember thinking that 10 years ago, I wouldn't have even imagined having fun on this coaster, willingly riding it more than once. I felt impressed with myself. After my second time on the Boomerang, I noticed I'd begun to develop a headache. But I shrugged it off, and went to ride some more rides with my uncle.
Next chapter...Our adventure at the Great Escape ends, but the day still isn't over!
Part 5: Life's Simple Joys
My Uncle Russ and I took the walk from the Mega Wedgie, to the lawn chairs where we had left our towels and drink cups. It should have been a fairly quick stroll, but as we were walking over a little bridge, we ended up behind some fat rednecks who were moving slower than snails. I could see our stuff from where we were, and had the irrational paranoia that someone would steal our belongings within my line of sight, and I wouldn't be unable to do anything, all because some lardy asshats couldn't be buggered to ambulate a little more briskly. My fears went unfounded.
After we collected our things, my uncle and I walked back to our locker so we could change out of our soggy bathing suits and enjoy the rest of the park. First I went into the ladies' room to change, while my uncle stood by our locker. When I was finished, my uncle went to change and I waited by the locker. During this wait, my mother called me on my cell. I can't remember why she called, but I do remember that I had a lot of trouble hearing her, as the area where the rows of lockers stood was very crowded. She wanted to talk to my uncle. When my uncle stepped out of the men's room, I handed him the phone. He'd call her back later.
We walked away from the changing rooms. I left my damp bathing suit and towel in the locker, so I wouldn't have to carry them around. Anyway, I paid ten bucks for that rental, I might as well get my money's worth.
I needed more coke. I got in line at a Funnel Cake Stand, to get my free refill. The wait was unbearably long, seeing as the redneck family (rednecks, it always has to be rednecks) in front of me was taking their sweet time just to order some ice cream. Precious time was being wasted, and I was about to give up, when I saw a soda refill station right behind me. A refill station! I had stood in that line for nothing! Relieved, I hurried over to the station, showed the girl behind the counter my wristband and got more soda. Ah, Coca Cola. On a hot summer day, nothing beats a cold coke with ice, it is one of life's simple joys.
Afterwards, my uncle and I were wandering along, when my mother called. She wanted to know when we'd be leaving the park and going to Schroon Lake, where she and my sister were visiting with my aunt and grandmother. As they negotiated, I stuck my plastic straw in it's little holder and tried to see if I could drink my coke that way. I could, but it was a bad idea. Since the straw was pointing down, soda began to dribble out at an alarming rate. I am such an idiot.
I pulled the straw out of it's holder and stopped the spill. Then, my uncle and I stopped at a trashcan. Lickety-split, I whipped out my wet naps, cleaned up my soda sticky hands, and wiped off the cup. I knew those things would come in handy. I'd gotten the idea to bring wet naps, after last year, when Acacia and I had made a mess of ourselves while eating funnel cake during our trip to the Great Escape. So I had gotten a large pack of Wet Ones, in little individual packages.
I never ended up getting a funnel cake that day, but those towelettes still became indispensable to me during that long weekend.
We had until five o' clock. At five, much to our chagrin, we would have to leave The Great Escape, and go to Schroon Lake. Determined to have fun, we made our way to The Comet, which is my very favorite Roller Coaster at the Great Escape.
We waited in line behind some very loud teenage girls. Well, at least one of them, an obnoxious, hulking she-walrus, was being very loud. At one point she was so loud that she hurt my ears. I made a comment about my ear drum being punctured, and she sheepishly apologized. But she still didn't shut the fuck up.
Each car holds four people, with two rows of seats. Uncle Russ and I had the ill luck of sharing a car with Yappy Lardass and her comparatively silent companion. They sat in front of us, Yappy chattering away, telling her friend that she better put both her arms up (or something equally asinine) when the roller coaster camera takes their picture, and that they were going to ride this coaster again and again until their picture was just right. I rolled my eyes.
As the ride attendants checked seatbelts and lap bars, they high fived passengers. I vaguely recall my uncle expressing distaste for this practice. I'm not sure I like it either. I understand that being cheerful is just part of their job, but sometimes it can be a bit obnoxious.
The ride was delightful, but with one exception. Yappy Lardass and her friend were ridiculously obnoxious, squealing and squawking like retarded seagulls. At one point, one of their ponytails whacked me (though that wasn't their fault). I was sorely tempted to pull Yappy's hair in retaliation for her dumbassery.
But despite this, I enjoyed the steep hills, the intense speed, the sharp turns. When the ride was over, Yappy was still squawking about riding the Comet again, so she and her chum could get their picture just right. But fate intervened, for as we disembarked, we were informed that The Comet was having mechanical problems and was being closed down until further notice. Cruel irony! I took some sadistic joy in knowing Yappy Lardass' plans were foiled.
But the walrus had the last laugh, for when my Uncle and I went to view our roller coaster picture I was dismayed to find that my entire face had been obscured by Yappy's fleshy white arm! The skank! I dearly love seeing the expressions I make on rides (ah, I am so vain, I know) and I was disappointed and irritated. But there was no point in dwelling upon it, so my uncle and I set off to do something else.
Next, we rode The Pirate Ship. It's one of my favorites, but I remember very little of this ride. I don't think we got one of those prime back-row seats, but I still had a fine time. I always enjoy riding one of these, despite being very afraid of them as a young girl.
My memory gets very hazy right about now. I know we rode The Sasquatch a few times. At one point on the Launch Tower, I noticed the Velcro strap of my sneaker had come undone. When I was younger, this would have made me panic. But now I merely laughed, and lifted my foot up to fix, while I was 192 feet in the air! I also remember marveling over the view from the launch tower, for the sun was going down, the sky was lavender, and the moon was a gorgeous pearl in the sky. I don't remember the exactly when this happened, only how gorgeous the sky was. My memory is like that. I can't tell you where my socks are, but I can tell you how beautiful the moon was, on an early summer evening, nearly a year ago.
We also rode The Boomerang for a second time. My uncle wanted to sit in the last car, but I refused, because that car goes to the very top of the coaster. While I now enjoyed the Boomerang, I still dreaded the part of the ride where it sits still, over 50 feet in the air. As it was, I was really surprising myself by riding this coaster twice in one day. I remember thinking that 10 years ago, I wouldn't have even imagined having fun on this coaster, willingly riding it more than once. I felt impressed with myself. After my second time on the Boomerang, I noticed I'd begun to develop a headache. But I shrugged it off, and went to ride some more rides with my uncle.
Next chapter...Our adventure at the Great Escape ends, but the day still isn't over!
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Top 10 most ridiculous things a woman can do to her body
I'm going to take a short break from my memoir to write a quick list of beauty treatments I find to be impractical and silly. I am not responsible for anyone getting offended by my opinions.
1. Vajazzling
According to Cosmopolitan, the biggest trend right now for personal grooming is bedazzling your vulva. That's right, those same cute little rhinestones you put on your denim jackets, you can now put on your genitals! Fortunately for the vain and silly women who do this, the rhinestones aren't applied the traditional way. After removing all the pubic hair, little rhinestones are glued to the mons and labia majora, often in little patterns and designs.
When I first found out about this new fad, I was speechless. Then I felt a combination of amusement and disgust. Who actually does this? Strippers? I can imagine strippers putting little rhinestones on their bits. Then I thought, why would someone want to do this? Would I want to have sex with a woman who bedazzles her privates?
The answer is no. No I would not, nor can I imagine anyone, male or female, wanting to have intercourse with a woman who does this. Men in particular, I think would be turned off by a twat that rivals Edward Cullen in sparkle. Most people I know don't really care how "pretty" their partner's genitals are, as long as they're clean and disease free. And while some people like a neatly groomed pussy, I think adding rhinestones is taking it a bit too far.
2. Vaginal Makeup
This little trend, I also heard about from Cosmopolitan. Apparently, another cool thing to do to your vagina is to have it injected with dyes to make it look pinker. What!? Who cares if it looks pinker? The only time the appearance of a woman's genitals is important is if she's a porn star or a stripper. Their careers depend on having a pretty poonani.
3. Vaginal Plastic Surgery
While we're on the subject of altering your genitals to make them look "better", let's discuss the big enchilada. It seems women are getting plastic surgery to make their vaginas tighter, and their labia smaller, all in the hopes of having a more pleasing visage to their private parts.
Why are women enduring the torment of scalpels, needles, dyes and glue? If I know how most women behave, they're probably doing it to please a partner. This is just pitiful. A good partner is someone who likes your body just the way it is, and doesn't demand that you change your body just to please them. If someone is getting plastic surgery because they think their partner won't like their body the way it is, then maybe they should reevaluate their self-esteem, and broach the subject with their partner, asking he or she how they feel about the matter.
I do however want to point out that some women have their pelvic floor muscles surgically tightened for medical reasons, and not just so they can feel like a virgin again.
4. Breast Implants
If done right, they can almost be pleasant to look at, but otherwise, they're just creepy. They're too round, for one thing. Real breasts aren't usually perfectly round. Larger ones tend to have a slight droop. For a second thing, they defy gravity. When the woman with silicone breasts moves around, her tits don't move with her. Real breasts tend to wobble all over the place. They bounce, they jiggle, they quiver. I've never seen a pair silicone hooters do any of those things.
Really large implants always look like they're about to explode. This is probably because the skin is stretched too tight. They look hard and painful, they look unpleasant to to the touch.
Breast implants can also go wrong. The bags can ripple (especially if it's a saline bag) and make the breasts look weird. I'm sure there is a myriad of problems that breast implants can cause if done badly. Rippling bags are just one.
Do men prefer false boobs over real? Most men I know don't. Most men say they prefer the real thing. But women keep getting them, thinking they'll only be beautiful if they have large breasts. Large breasts are a curse, trust me. The back pain, painful marks from your straps digging into your shoulders, the skin rashes and the humiliation of being stared and commented at when you go out, none of that is worth being "beautiful". Not by a long shot.
5. Anal bleaching- What?! Bleach is for your laundry, not your asshole! Who would put a harmful chemical in such a place? Why would someone put a harmful chemical in such a place? Another silly trend started by porn stars, idiots bleach their leather cheerio in hopes of making the skin around the anus look lighter and as wikipedia puts it "More uniform with the surrounding area". Like most of the beauty treatments I've listed here, there really isn't a medical reason to do this, it's all about vanity.
6. Lip Injections-
Known as "The Trout Pout" this ridiculous trend has been around for awhile, and is rampant among starlets. Basically, one injects their lips with collagen until they're large and lush. Unfortunately, it looks terrible. It's so obviously fake, and like breast implants, it looks like your lips are going to explode in a shower of gore. Eventually the collagen wears off, and the lips start to sag. But in their swollen glory, these Trout Pouts make the lady sporting them look, in my opinion rather vapid and slutty. Add some gooey lip gloss, and the Stupid Spoiled Whore look is complete. But don't get me wrong, lips that are already full and lush by genetics, are often very gorgeous, just look at Angelina Jolie. I'd love to be kissed by her.
7. Latisse
Some people have little to no eyelashes. This, is a problem as eyelashes are necessary to protect the eye. So doctors will prescribe them a drug called Latisse, which makes one's eyelashes grow in. However, some women are using the drug solely for cosmetic purposes. Unfortunately, one of the side effects is a permanent darkening of the irises and the skin around the eye! It also causes skin irritations. Is having long lush lashes worth such a disfigurement? Can't you put on mascara? I understand that some people need this drug because they have an actual problem, but if you just want a fuller flutter, then just get some mascara and an eyelash curler.
8. Extreme dieting
Don't even get me started on how stupid extreme dieting is In fact, I don't even know where to begin, there are just too many unhealthy, impractical and idiotic fad diets that stupid, vain women waste their money and their time on. Imbibing foul concoctions in hopes of shedding weight fast, eating only certain foods, in certain amounts. Popping pills of all kinds. It's a slippery slope into Eating Disorderville. Unfortunately, most of the crash diets either don't work at all, or either make you lose weight fast, only to gain it back as soon as you go off the diet. If you want to lose weight, eat healthy and exercise. No, it's not easy, and not everyone can afford to eat healthy, but it's safer for your body than fucking around with extreme dieting.
9. Personal Freshness Products
There seems to be a cultural phobia of vaginal odor. Fear sells, so there's a market for various sprays, washes, wipes and powders all claiming to make your most special area smell fresher than a daisy. Most of these products contains perfumes that irritate the delicate skin of the vulva. But women use them anyway, afraid that if they don't have a perfect, sweet smelling vagina, that they will become social outcasts. I hate to tell you ladies, but when you go out on the street, no one is going to be sticking their nose between your legs to see if your vagina's odor is socially acceptable.
Anyway, it is normal to have a slight odor down there. The only time odor should be a problem is if it's fishy, and accompanied by a foul discharge. At this point, Pussy Perfume will do nothing to save you, the best thing to do is go to a doctor.
If you're concerned about "vaginal freshness", then just gently wash your vulva with warm water and mild soap. There's no reason to hang an air freshener in there.
10. Tanning Beds
Apparently, nothing says 'sexy" like having a golden tan. Some people do this the old fashioned way, by slathering themselves in suntan lotion and lying outside under the sun. Others prefer to go to tanning beds.
Tanning beds are ridiculous for both reasons of vanity and health. First of all it looks tacky, being that crispy shade of brownish orange. It looks really trashy and really fake to me. I used to know girls who would tan so much that their skin would actually match their hair color perfectly. It was just very unflattering. Not to say that being tan looks bad. A light tan can actually be rather attractive. A little golden brown tint to the complexion looks nice. But when I see white girl who's baked herself to an unnatural shade of tan, I tend to be disgusted.
Then there are the health risks. These beds give people concentrated doses of harmful rays that cause skin cancer. And nothing is sexier than cancer, right? Wrong.
I'd rather be pale and unattractive than sexy, tan and doomed to die of cancer.
And sure, instead real tanning you can get a spray tan, but let's be serious here, those are even tackier than going to a tanning bed.
1. Vajazzling
According to Cosmopolitan, the biggest trend right now for personal grooming is bedazzling your vulva. That's right, those same cute little rhinestones you put on your denim jackets, you can now put on your genitals! Fortunately for the vain and silly women who do this, the rhinestones aren't applied the traditional way. After removing all the pubic hair, little rhinestones are glued to the mons and labia majora, often in little patterns and designs.
When I first found out about this new fad, I was speechless. Then I felt a combination of amusement and disgust. Who actually does this? Strippers? I can imagine strippers putting little rhinestones on their bits. Then I thought, why would someone want to do this? Would I want to have sex with a woman who bedazzles her privates?
The answer is no. No I would not, nor can I imagine anyone, male or female, wanting to have intercourse with a woman who does this. Men in particular, I think would be turned off by a twat that rivals Edward Cullen in sparkle. Most people I know don't really care how "pretty" their partner's genitals are, as long as they're clean and disease free. And while some people like a neatly groomed pussy, I think adding rhinestones is taking it a bit too far.
2. Vaginal Makeup
This little trend, I also heard about from Cosmopolitan. Apparently, another cool thing to do to your vagina is to have it injected with dyes to make it look pinker. What!? Who cares if it looks pinker? The only time the appearance of a woman's genitals is important is if she's a porn star or a stripper. Their careers depend on having a pretty poonani.
3. Vaginal Plastic Surgery
While we're on the subject of altering your genitals to make them look "better", let's discuss the big enchilada. It seems women are getting plastic surgery to make their vaginas tighter, and their labia smaller, all in the hopes of having a more pleasing visage to their private parts.
Why are women enduring the torment of scalpels, needles, dyes and glue? If I know how most women behave, they're probably doing it to please a partner. This is just pitiful. A good partner is someone who likes your body just the way it is, and doesn't demand that you change your body just to please them. If someone is getting plastic surgery because they think their partner won't like their body the way it is, then maybe they should reevaluate their self-esteem, and broach the subject with their partner, asking he or she how they feel about the matter.
I do however want to point out that some women have their pelvic floor muscles surgically tightened for medical reasons, and not just so they can feel like a virgin again.
4. Breast Implants
If done right, they can almost be pleasant to look at, but otherwise, they're just creepy. They're too round, for one thing. Real breasts aren't usually perfectly round. Larger ones tend to have a slight droop. For a second thing, they defy gravity. When the woman with silicone breasts moves around, her tits don't move with her. Real breasts tend to wobble all over the place. They bounce, they jiggle, they quiver. I've never seen a pair silicone hooters do any of those things.
Really large implants always look like they're about to explode. This is probably because the skin is stretched too tight. They look hard and painful, they look unpleasant to to the touch.
Breast implants can also go wrong. The bags can ripple (especially if it's a saline bag) and make the breasts look weird. I'm sure there is a myriad of problems that breast implants can cause if done badly. Rippling bags are just one.
Do men prefer false boobs over real? Most men I know don't. Most men say they prefer the real thing. But women keep getting them, thinking they'll only be beautiful if they have large breasts. Large breasts are a curse, trust me. The back pain, painful marks from your straps digging into your shoulders, the skin rashes and the humiliation of being stared and commented at when you go out, none of that is worth being "beautiful". Not by a long shot.
5. Anal bleaching- What?! Bleach is for your laundry, not your asshole! Who would put a harmful chemical in such a place? Why would someone put a harmful chemical in such a place? Another silly trend started by porn stars, idiots bleach their leather cheerio in hopes of making the skin around the anus look lighter and as wikipedia puts it "More uniform with the surrounding area". Like most of the beauty treatments I've listed here, there really isn't a medical reason to do this, it's all about vanity.
6. Lip Injections-
Known as "The Trout Pout" this ridiculous trend has been around for awhile, and is rampant among starlets. Basically, one injects their lips with collagen until they're large and lush. Unfortunately, it looks terrible. It's so obviously fake, and like breast implants, it looks like your lips are going to explode in a shower of gore. Eventually the collagen wears off, and the lips start to sag. But in their swollen glory, these Trout Pouts make the lady sporting them look, in my opinion rather vapid and slutty. Add some gooey lip gloss, and the Stupid Spoiled Whore look is complete. But don't get me wrong, lips that are already full and lush by genetics, are often very gorgeous, just look at Angelina Jolie. I'd love to be kissed by her.
7. Latisse
Some people have little to no eyelashes. This, is a problem as eyelashes are necessary to protect the eye. So doctors will prescribe them a drug called Latisse, which makes one's eyelashes grow in. However, some women are using the drug solely for cosmetic purposes. Unfortunately, one of the side effects is a permanent darkening of the irises and the skin around the eye! It also causes skin irritations. Is having long lush lashes worth such a disfigurement? Can't you put on mascara? I understand that some people need this drug because they have an actual problem, but if you just want a fuller flutter, then just get some mascara and an eyelash curler.
8. Extreme dieting
Don't even get me started on how stupid extreme dieting is In fact, I don't even know where to begin, there are just too many unhealthy, impractical and idiotic fad diets that stupid, vain women waste their money and their time on. Imbibing foul concoctions in hopes of shedding weight fast, eating only certain foods, in certain amounts. Popping pills of all kinds. It's a slippery slope into Eating Disorderville. Unfortunately, most of the crash diets either don't work at all, or either make you lose weight fast, only to gain it back as soon as you go off the diet. If you want to lose weight, eat healthy and exercise. No, it's not easy, and not everyone can afford to eat healthy, but it's safer for your body than fucking around with extreme dieting.
9. Personal Freshness Products
There seems to be a cultural phobia of vaginal odor. Fear sells, so there's a market for various sprays, washes, wipes and powders all claiming to make your most special area smell fresher than a daisy. Most of these products contains perfumes that irritate the delicate skin of the vulva. But women use them anyway, afraid that if they don't have a perfect, sweet smelling vagina, that they will become social outcasts. I hate to tell you ladies, but when you go out on the street, no one is going to be sticking their nose between your legs to see if your vagina's odor is socially acceptable.
Anyway, it is normal to have a slight odor down there. The only time odor should be a problem is if it's fishy, and accompanied by a foul discharge. At this point, Pussy Perfume will do nothing to save you, the best thing to do is go to a doctor.
If you're concerned about "vaginal freshness", then just gently wash your vulva with warm water and mild soap. There's no reason to hang an air freshener in there.
10. Tanning Beds
Apparently, nothing says 'sexy" like having a golden tan. Some people do this the old fashioned way, by slathering themselves in suntan lotion and lying outside under the sun. Others prefer to go to tanning beds.
Tanning beds are ridiculous for both reasons of vanity and health. First of all it looks tacky, being that crispy shade of brownish orange. It looks really trashy and really fake to me. I used to know girls who would tan so much that their skin would actually match their hair color perfectly. It was just very unflattering. Not to say that being tan looks bad. A light tan can actually be rather attractive. A little golden brown tint to the complexion looks nice. But when I see white girl who's baked herself to an unnatural shade of tan, I tend to be disgusted.
Then there are the health risks. These beds give people concentrated doses of harmful rays that cause skin cancer. And nothing is sexier than cancer, right? Wrong.
I'd rather be pale and unattractive than sexy, tan and doomed to die of cancer.
And sure, instead real tanning you can get a spray tan, but let's be serious here, those are even tackier than going to a tanning bed.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Saturday Part 4
Part four! Hurray I'm on a self-indulgent blogging roll!
Part 4: Disaster, Both Painful and Embarrassing
Uncle Russ and I walked to the lockers just outside of Splashwater Kingdom. Unlike the lockers inside SK, these are rented by computer. Last year, I'd had an anxiety attack when Acacia tried to rent one, because not only were the directions confusing, but also because it was a bit crowded. It was still a bit crowded at the lockers this year, but I was determined to use one, mostly because they were cheaper than the other lockers.
I rented the smallest and cheapest locker possible at ten dollars, (the directions turned out to be easier than I had initially thought) and went inside the changing rooms to wriggle into my bathing suit, while my uncle waited outside.
The changing room was loud, the screeches of small children bouncing off the tiled walls and floor. The aforementioned floor was slick with water and had shreds of soggy toilet paper scattered here and there. I selected a stall, and being careful not to drop any of my clothes, squeezed into my ribbed black one piece. Then I went back outside, feeling self conscious about my body, and shoved my things and my uncle's things into the locker, and then we set off, carrying drinks and towels.
We first decided to ride a slide called The Black Cobra. It's a long black slide with plenty of twists and turns. It looked like a blast, and I had never been on it before, so we got in line. The wait wasn't too long, and I anticipated being able to cool off. When our turn at last arrived, we sat down on the oblong tube, and at the ride operator's discretion, pushed forward and went plunging into darkness.
The ride was less pleasant than I imagined. There wasn't a lot of water, so we didn't get wet, and the inside of the enclosed slide was hot, since the black plastic absorbed the heat of the sun. But the twists, turns and drops were pretty fun, despite the discomfort.
I at least expected a splash when we hit the bottom, but there wasn't, we just skidded into a "run-off". Disappointed, we put our tube onto the conveyor belt that would carry the tube back to the top of the slide. I didn't even get wet.
After that epic fail of a water slide, we decided it would be in our best interests to ride The Tornado, a water slide so named for the funnel that you encounter while riding it.
Last year, when I rode the Tornado, there had been a fairly long line just to obtain one of the clover shaped inner tubes. This year, we did not have to wait to procure our tube, for this year, there wasn't any line at all! My uncle and I merely walked to the pile of inner tubes and selected a bright green inner tube. Then we made the long trek to the line for the water slide.
The line for the slide wasn't very long at all and soon enough it was our turn. The ride attendant helped us get onto our inner tube. To my displeasure, I found that I was facing away from the mouth of the slide. I would be traveling down that steep drop backwards. But there was nothing I could really do, and soon I found myself speeding down that drop, gripping the handles of the inner tube with all my might.
The tube shot out into the funnel, and slid up the sides. At this point, I was glad I had gone down the drop backwards, for it meant that I wouldn't be enduring the funnel upside down like my uncle was (though I don't think he minded too much). After we lost momentum, we went rushing out into the pool. It had been so much fun!
After we got out of the pool, my Uncle Russ and I decided to ride The Tornado again. So instead of depositing our inner tube, we just walked back to the end of the line.
This time, when we were being helped into the inner tube, the attendant made sure that I was facing forward. I guess she must have felt bad when I voiced my displeasure at having to sit backwards. But I viewed my new position with dread, for it meant that I would have to ride the funnel upside down...
Once more, we were sent down the drop, and sliding along the funnel. It was all very fun except for one thing. I had developed a slight wedgie. The speed of our inner tube and the rushing water made my bathing suit nestle itself betwixt my bum cheeks. It was very uncomfortable, and I couldn't wait to get off the slide and fix the accursed wardrobe malfunction.
Once we dropped into the pool, I set to work trying to fix my wedgie without anyone noticing. I'll never be sure if anyone saw my awkward attempts, and I prefer not to think about how embarrassing this situation was.
After I put things back in their place, my uncle and I returned our tube and went to find something else to do. We decided to try the trio of water slides named Twister Falls, The Banshee Plunge and The Blue Typhoon. I had never ridden any of these before, so I was very excited.
From a giant pile, we grabbed a pair of hot pink inner tubes, one for each of us. There didn't seem to be any line, so we went straight for the middle slide, The Banshee Plunge. We placed our tubes in the water at the mouth of the slide, and waited for the lifeguard to give us permission to head down the slide. When my turn came, I propelled myself forward, making sure not to go down the slide backwards.
I rushed down the slide at a terrifying speed. Then, disaster, both painful and embarrassing, struck. The force of water once again pulled my bathing suit upwards, giving me the most painful wedgie I have ever experienced in my entire life. Worse then the one I had experienced on The Tornado, it felt like as I continued down the slide the fabric of my suit was being pulled higher and higher, and there was nothing I could do about it. When I hit the receiving pool with a splash, I found myself looking around, checking to see if there was blood in the water. Yes, my wedgie was so excruciating that I was afraid it had made me bleed, or worse, do serious damage to my bum. But my imaginings were unfounded, there wasn't any blood, and my ass was still intact, if not very very sore. I got up and quickly fixed the Epic Wedgie, hoping no one would notice my shame. I met up with my uncle, and we trudged back up the hill to try another slide. It hurt to walk. My wedgie had been extreme enough that it was actually painful for me to walk. I moved slowly, unable to keep up with my uncle. I wondered if I should head to the infirmary, but was too embarrassed.
As I got ready to ride the next slide, a long green behemoth called Twister Falls, I wondered how my trauma had occurred, and how I could prevent it. The combination of the moving water and the high speed I was traveling at had caused the wedgie, that I knew, as had letting my bottom come into contact the slide. The solution was simple. When I sat in the inner tube, I should merely perch above the hole, as opposed to squeezing myself into it. That way, my ass would have no unwanted contact with the slide, and I would be less likely to suffer a wedgie.
After coming to this conclusion, I shamelessly informed the lifeguard that The Banshee Plunge induced wedgies of a painful nature. (Not in those exact words of course, I think I was much more blunt in real life.) He was not surprised and told me, that this occurred often. I wonder if anyone ever had a wedgie as painful as mine after riding this particular slide.
Twister Falls was a better slide than the last one I rode. Instead of going straight down at a horrifying speed, I experienced thrilling twists and turns which I hoped would last forever.
Naturally, it did not, and I ended up in the big receiving pool, checking myself for wedgies. Thankfully, there weren't any.
Then, I finally rode the last of The Holy Trinity of Water Slides, The Blue Lagoon. I remember very little of this slide, other than it's bright color, a loud Crayola shade of blue.
Afterwards, my Uncle Russ and I decided to go on Captain Hook's Lazy River Adventure. I love Lazy River rides. They're very relaxing and pleasant.
My uncle and I grabbed some yellow inner tubes and headed for the water. I bypassed the awkwardness of asking for help with my inner tub, by getting on it in the shallows and having some kids push me out into the current.
Unlike last year, when a lifeguard told me I could only go around the lazy river once, my uncle and I went around three times. The first time, I let my uncle get his revenge for the Sasquatch Incident by letting him shove me under the giant pipe, from which pours gallons of icy cold water.
Also during my pleasant ride down the river, I had bit of a surprise. Floating in the water, was a little body! For one frightful moment I was afraid a child had drowned, but as it turns out the lifeguards were doing a rescue drill with a small dummy. When I expressed my relief, they told me that I wasn't the first person to jump to conclusions.
All in all my triple trip down The Lazy River was pleasant, except for a moment when a group of very ill-mannered teenage girls mimicked and laughed at my squeals of displeasure as I got sprayed by a fountain. I found their teasing to be rather uncalled for, to say the least and had a few choice words for them, which out of good breeding, I kept to myself.
After our third trip, we decided we should ride The Mega Wedgie slide before the lines got too long. So we got out of the water, passed off our inner tubes to the next person and went on our way. We stopped to check on our towels and giant plastic drink cups, which we had left on deck chair, and headed towards the slide.
We grabbed one of the figure eight shaped blue inner tubes, designed for two riders. The line to this slide was longer than the other ones we'd ridden on today. I think this is because it was getting to the hottest part of the day, and more and more guests were starting to drift into Splashwater Kingdom, ready to cool off.
While waiting in line, my uncle and I were surrounded by children. Most of them were between the ages of eight and twelve, and wearing these ridiculous rubber bracelets called Silly Bandz. These things, are apparently the latest fad. They're brightly colored rubber bands, shaped like different things- animals, methods of transportation, and other random objects. They even have Harry Potter Silly Bandz. This trip to to The Great Escape was the first time I had ever seen them, and I have to say, the fascination with them quite confuses and annoys me. Maybe I'm just getting old.
Last year, when I rode the Mega Wedgie, Acacia and I had gotten stuck. This year, I dreaded a repeat of those traumatizing events, but did not voice my anxieties. We got in the inner tube, my uncle sitting in the back, myself in the front. Then, we pushed forward and went speeding down the drop, and out into the basin. This part, spinning around in that bowl, is actually quite daunting, but still very exciting. Luckily, we didn't get stuck, and only went around twice before going down another drop and shooting out into the receiving pool.
Afterwards, my uncle told me that he didn't think the slide was worth having to wait that long. There are very few water slides that are worth a long wait.
We wandered down towards The Lumberjack Splash Wave Pool and Paul Bunyan's Bucket Brigade, but the former was closed, and I neither one of us seemed very interested in the latter. I think we were sufficiently cooled off at that point, and we decided to get our things and end our soggy adventure.
Coming up, there will be thrills, chills and soda spills! Well, there won't be chills, but I need a third word to rhyme with thrills and spills.
Part 4: Disaster, Both Painful and Embarrassing
Uncle Russ and I walked to the lockers just outside of Splashwater Kingdom. Unlike the lockers inside SK, these are rented by computer. Last year, I'd had an anxiety attack when Acacia tried to rent one, because not only were the directions confusing, but also because it was a bit crowded. It was still a bit crowded at the lockers this year, but I was determined to use one, mostly because they were cheaper than the other lockers.
I rented the smallest and cheapest locker possible at ten dollars, (the directions turned out to be easier than I had initially thought) and went inside the changing rooms to wriggle into my bathing suit, while my uncle waited outside.
The changing room was loud, the screeches of small children bouncing off the tiled walls and floor. The aforementioned floor was slick with water and had shreds of soggy toilet paper scattered here and there. I selected a stall, and being careful not to drop any of my clothes, squeezed into my ribbed black one piece. Then I went back outside, feeling self conscious about my body, and shoved my things and my uncle's things into the locker, and then we set off, carrying drinks and towels.
We first decided to ride a slide called The Black Cobra. It's a long black slide with plenty of twists and turns. It looked like a blast, and I had never been on it before, so we got in line. The wait wasn't too long, and I anticipated being able to cool off. When our turn at last arrived, we sat down on the oblong tube, and at the ride operator's discretion, pushed forward and went plunging into darkness.
The ride was less pleasant than I imagined. There wasn't a lot of water, so we didn't get wet, and the inside of the enclosed slide was hot, since the black plastic absorbed the heat of the sun. But the twists, turns and drops were pretty fun, despite the discomfort.
I at least expected a splash when we hit the bottom, but there wasn't, we just skidded into a "run-off". Disappointed, we put our tube onto the conveyor belt that would carry the tube back to the top of the slide. I didn't even get wet.
After that epic fail of a water slide, we decided it would be in our best interests to ride The Tornado, a water slide so named for the funnel that you encounter while riding it.
Last year, when I rode the Tornado, there had been a fairly long line just to obtain one of the clover shaped inner tubes. This year, we did not have to wait to procure our tube, for this year, there wasn't any line at all! My uncle and I merely walked to the pile of inner tubes and selected a bright green inner tube. Then we made the long trek to the line for the water slide.
The line for the slide wasn't very long at all and soon enough it was our turn. The ride attendant helped us get onto our inner tube. To my displeasure, I found that I was facing away from the mouth of the slide. I would be traveling down that steep drop backwards. But there was nothing I could really do, and soon I found myself speeding down that drop, gripping the handles of the inner tube with all my might.
The tube shot out into the funnel, and slid up the sides. At this point, I was glad I had gone down the drop backwards, for it meant that I wouldn't be enduring the funnel upside down like my uncle was (though I don't think he minded too much). After we lost momentum, we went rushing out into the pool. It had been so much fun!
After we got out of the pool, my Uncle Russ and I decided to ride The Tornado again. So instead of depositing our inner tube, we just walked back to the end of the line.
This time, when we were being helped into the inner tube, the attendant made sure that I was facing forward. I guess she must have felt bad when I voiced my displeasure at having to sit backwards. But I viewed my new position with dread, for it meant that I would have to ride the funnel upside down...
Once more, we were sent down the drop, and sliding along the funnel. It was all very fun except for one thing. I had developed a slight wedgie. The speed of our inner tube and the rushing water made my bathing suit nestle itself betwixt my bum cheeks. It was very uncomfortable, and I couldn't wait to get off the slide and fix the accursed wardrobe malfunction.
Once we dropped into the pool, I set to work trying to fix my wedgie without anyone noticing. I'll never be sure if anyone saw my awkward attempts, and I prefer not to think about how embarrassing this situation was.
After I put things back in their place, my uncle and I returned our tube and went to find something else to do. We decided to try the trio of water slides named Twister Falls, The Banshee Plunge and The Blue Typhoon. I had never ridden any of these before, so I was very excited.
From a giant pile, we grabbed a pair of hot pink inner tubes, one for each of us. There didn't seem to be any line, so we went straight for the middle slide, The Banshee Plunge. We placed our tubes in the water at the mouth of the slide, and waited for the lifeguard to give us permission to head down the slide. When my turn came, I propelled myself forward, making sure not to go down the slide backwards.
I rushed down the slide at a terrifying speed. Then, disaster, both painful and embarrassing, struck. The force of water once again pulled my bathing suit upwards, giving me the most painful wedgie I have ever experienced in my entire life. Worse then the one I had experienced on The Tornado, it felt like as I continued down the slide the fabric of my suit was being pulled higher and higher, and there was nothing I could do about it. When I hit the receiving pool with a splash, I found myself looking around, checking to see if there was blood in the water. Yes, my wedgie was so excruciating that I was afraid it had made me bleed, or worse, do serious damage to my bum. But my imaginings were unfounded, there wasn't any blood, and my ass was still intact, if not very very sore. I got up and quickly fixed the Epic Wedgie, hoping no one would notice my shame. I met up with my uncle, and we trudged back up the hill to try another slide. It hurt to walk. My wedgie had been extreme enough that it was actually painful for me to walk. I moved slowly, unable to keep up with my uncle. I wondered if I should head to the infirmary, but was too embarrassed.
As I got ready to ride the next slide, a long green behemoth called Twister Falls, I wondered how my trauma had occurred, and how I could prevent it. The combination of the moving water and the high speed I was traveling at had caused the wedgie, that I knew, as had letting my bottom come into contact the slide. The solution was simple. When I sat in the inner tube, I should merely perch above the hole, as opposed to squeezing myself into it. That way, my ass would have no unwanted contact with the slide, and I would be less likely to suffer a wedgie.
After coming to this conclusion, I shamelessly informed the lifeguard that The Banshee Plunge induced wedgies of a painful nature. (Not in those exact words of course, I think I was much more blunt in real life.) He was not surprised and told me, that this occurred often. I wonder if anyone ever had a wedgie as painful as mine after riding this particular slide.
Twister Falls was a better slide than the last one I rode. Instead of going straight down at a horrifying speed, I experienced thrilling twists and turns which I hoped would last forever.
Naturally, it did not, and I ended up in the big receiving pool, checking myself for wedgies. Thankfully, there weren't any.
Then, I finally rode the last of The Holy Trinity of Water Slides, The Blue Lagoon. I remember very little of this slide, other than it's bright color, a loud Crayola shade of blue.
Afterwards, my Uncle Russ and I decided to go on Captain Hook's Lazy River Adventure. I love Lazy River rides. They're very relaxing and pleasant.
My uncle and I grabbed some yellow inner tubes and headed for the water. I bypassed the awkwardness of asking for help with my inner tub, by getting on it in the shallows and having some kids push me out into the current.
Unlike last year, when a lifeguard told me I could only go around the lazy river once, my uncle and I went around three times. The first time, I let my uncle get his revenge for the Sasquatch Incident by letting him shove me under the giant pipe, from which pours gallons of icy cold water.
Also during my pleasant ride down the river, I had bit of a surprise. Floating in the water, was a little body! For one frightful moment I was afraid a child had drowned, but as it turns out the lifeguards were doing a rescue drill with a small dummy. When I expressed my relief, they told me that I wasn't the first person to jump to conclusions.
All in all my triple trip down The Lazy River was pleasant, except for a moment when a group of very ill-mannered teenage girls mimicked and laughed at my squeals of displeasure as I got sprayed by a fountain. I found their teasing to be rather uncalled for, to say the least and had a few choice words for them, which out of good breeding, I kept to myself.
After our third trip, we decided we should ride The Mega Wedgie slide before the lines got too long. So we got out of the water, passed off our inner tubes to the next person and went on our way. We stopped to check on our towels and giant plastic drink cups, which we had left on deck chair, and headed towards the slide.
We grabbed one of the figure eight shaped blue inner tubes, designed for two riders. The line to this slide was longer than the other ones we'd ridden on today. I think this is because it was getting to the hottest part of the day, and more and more guests were starting to drift into Splashwater Kingdom, ready to cool off.
While waiting in line, my uncle and I were surrounded by children. Most of them were between the ages of eight and twelve, and wearing these ridiculous rubber bracelets called Silly Bandz. These things, are apparently the latest fad. They're brightly colored rubber bands, shaped like different things- animals, methods of transportation, and other random objects. They even have Harry Potter Silly Bandz. This trip to to The Great Escape was the first time I had ever seen them, and I have to say, the fascination with them quite confuses and annoys me. Maybe I'm just getting old.
Last year, when I rode the Mega Wedgie, Acacia and I had gotten stuck. This year, I dreaded a repeat of those traumatizing events, but did not voice my anxieties. We got in the inner tube, my uncle sitting in the back, myself in the front. Then, we pushed forward and went speeding down the drop, and out into the basin. This part, spinning around in that bowl, is actually quite daunting, but still very exciting. Luckily, we didn't get stuck, and only went around twice before going down another drop and shooting out into the receiving pool.
Afterwards, my uncle told me that he didn't think the slide was worth having to wait that long. There are very few water slides that are worth a long wait.
We wandered down towards The Lumberjack Splash Wave Pool and Paul Bunyan's Bucket Brigade, but the former was closed, and I neither one of us seemed very interested in the latter. I think we were sufficiently cooled off at that point, and we decided to get our things and end our soggy adventure.
Coming up, there will be thrills, chills and soda spills! Well, there won't be chills, but I need a third word to rhyme with thrills and spills.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Saturday Part 3
I've really slacked off, here's to blogging for the first time in two months!
Part 3: A Thirteen Dollar Soda
It's a little bit strange how the beginning of my 2010 trip mirrored my 2009 trip. Last year, Acacia and I had first ridden the Sasquatch, and then gotten on the Boomerang, which is just what my Uncle Russ and I were doing. It makes sense though, seeing as these two rides are closest to the park's entrance.
So Uncle Russ and I got in line for The Boomerang Coast to Coast Coaster. It was warm and a little muggy, and I was very thirsty. My Uncle and I planned the rest of our day. After this could I get a drink? Maybe we could go to Splashwater Kingdom soon?
As we got closer to the ride, (the line can be very long) we got to watch people get on and off, and watch their reactions. One teenage girl was loudly protesting having to sit in the very last car, for when it ascends, it sits at the very top of the coaster. I understood her aversion to the seat, but wished she would protest more quietly, as I found her loud "Oh hell no!'s" to be very obnoxious. Eventually she was coaxed into the car, and the ride started. When it was over, I could hear her voice above all other shouting "omigawd omigawd". I cannot pass judgment here, as I have often found myself saying some very silly things on thrill rides. Confessing my love for Harry Potter comes to mind.
Just before we were to get on the roller coaster, one of the women behind my Uncle and I collapsed. She was still conscious, but the heat was making her ill. I had noticed that she had been crouching a few minutes before she collapsed, but I hadn't thought she was sick, just tired of waiting in line. But here she was, sitting on the metal steps leading to the roller coaster, looking very faint and flushed. My uncle had turned around, and was offering her his water, as was her companion. The ride attendants put everything to a halt and called the park infirmary. During this whole scenario, I stood still and silent, not sure what to do or say. I'm very socially awkward. The Park EMTs came along, but I don't know if they took her away or not, for it seems after they arrived all the ruckus had settled down, and my uncle and I were boarding the roller coaster.
After we were secured, the ride began its ascent. This is the worst part of the ride, because it takes so long. I tried to keep from panicking, and somehow found myself engaged in conversation with my uncle, when I would normally be closing my eyes and praying fervently.
Finally, the rattling sound of the chains pulling us upwards, ended, and we sat at the top of the coaster. There was an eerie silence, a calm before the storm. And then we were rushing, rushing down hill, the wind in my face, my stomach dropping to my feet. My screams were more joy than fear.
For eleven long years, I had been terrified of this roller coaster. Then last year, in 2009, I rode the coaster with Acacia, finally conquering my fear. Now, here I was, enjoying the object of my girlhood terror with wild abandon.
We went through corkscrews and loops, and then repeated the process backwards, and still my whoops and cries remained those of excitement.
When we got off the coaster, I had hoped we would get something to drink, but instead we trekked all the way to Ghost Town so we could ride The Steamin' Demon.
The Steamin' Demon is a favorite of mine, it is a relatively short ride, but it is fast and it is very exciting. Last year I hurt my head on it, when my ears got boxed by my shoulder restraints, while going through a corkscrew.
This year, I was eager to ride the coaster, but worried about hurting my ears again. So when we went through those particular corkscrews, to avoid hitting the restraints, I craned my neck outward, like stretching a chicken's neck over a a chopping block. It strained my muscles, but at least my ears didn't get boxed!
We may have ridden the coaster a second time, though that second ride may have come later in the day. As usual, my memory is as fuzzy as a squirrel.
Afterward, we went to get some food and drink. We went back to Storytown, where my uncle ordered from the Papa Johns stand and I bought a thirteen dollar soda. Why did I pay so much for soda? Because the soda came in a special lime green collector's cup and with purchase of said cup and a special wristband, I could get free refills all day long. Any refills I got on future trips would cost me 99 cents. My uncle asked me if I was hungry, but I told him I was too excited to really eat anything, and instead opted to buy some Dippin's Dots. Unfortunately, the stand was some distance from the pizza stand, and I had to cross a small bridge to get to it. But I wanted ice cream, so I made the trek to get my chocolate ice cream pellets, which cost me five dollars and fifty cents. It was a bit of a juggle carrying my giant soda and my ice cream, but luckily the fantastical cup came with a handle, so I could loop it over my wrist like a hand bag, while I carefully carried my precious Dots back to my uncle's table. I was terrified of spilling, or having someone bump into me (people at amusement parks can often be very rude or inattentive and plow into innocent bystanders.). But my ice cream and I made it unharmed, and I sat down with my uncle, so we could enjoy our respective goodies.
I ate my delicious frozen dairy treat, despite the fact that it was quickly melting. My uncle enjoyed his pizza. He managed to get me to eat some bread sticks, which were pretty tasty.
As I ate my bread sticks, I noticed some ducks and geese lurking behind an iron fence. These ducks and geese lived along the banks of The River Dee (that delightful little body of water that runs through the amusement park), and the iron fence kept them from bothering the park guests. It's against the rules to feed them, but I ignored the little sign posted on the fence and threw pieces of bread to them. The geese and ducks ate the bits voraciously, and I hoped to god I wouldn't get caught. But I'm probably not the first nor the last person to feed these birds.
After we ate, I think we decided to ride the Steamin' Demon again. During the ride, I had a small anxiety attack and wondered if I had mislaid my wallet. This was my one and only moment of panic during this entire day (which is a record for me, I once had five anxiety attacks in one day when I went to Salem). It was difficult for me to enjoy the ride while worrying about my wallet, so I was eager for the ride to finish, so I could get off an check my purple backpack. Luckily, my wallet was right where I had left it, and while my backpack was open, I let my uncle deposit his phone and his wallet in there for safekeeping.
After our second ride on the Steamin' Demon, I am almost certain that we rode The Canyon Blaster. It's a family coaster so it's not very exciting, but we rode it anyway. I don't remember if we rode it after our first or second trip on the Steamin' Demon. I suppose it doesn't really matter does it? I always try to make these memoirs as accurate as possible, but what's the point? I'm the only one that reads these, after all.
It was hot, and we decided that it was high time to visit Splashwater Kingdom and cool off. This is what I was looking forward to, since I had enjoyed the water park so much last year. I wanted to fulfill the promise I had made to myself. The promise to ride all the slides at the Great Escape that I had never been on before. Would I be able to achieve that goal?
Coming up next...things get very soggy, and I have a traumatizing experience on a water slide.
Part 3: A Thirteen Dollar Soda
It's a little bit strange how the beginning of my 2010 trip mirrored my 2009 trip. Last year, Acacia and I had first ridden the Sasquatch, and then gotten on the Boomerang, which is just what my Uncle Russ and I were doing. It makes sense though, seeing as these two rides are closest to the park's entrance.
So Uncle Russ and I got in line for The Boomerang Coast to Coast Coaster. It was warm and a little muggy, and I was very thirsty. My Uncle and I planned the rest of our day. After this could I get a drink? Maybe we could go to Splashwater Kingdom soon?
As we got closer to the ride, (the line can be very long) we got to watch people get on and off, and watch their reactions. One teenage girl was loudly protesting having to sit in the very last car, for when it ascends, it sits at the very top of the coaster. I understood her aversion to the seat, but wished she would protest more quietly, as I found her loud "Oh hell no!'s" to be very obnoxious. Eventually she was coaxed into the car, and the ride started. When it was over, I could hear her voice above all other shouting "omigawd omigawd". I cannot pass judgment here, as I have often found myself saying some very silly things on thrill rides. Confessing my love for Harry Potter comes to mind.
Just before we were to get on the roller coaster, one of the women behind my Uncle and I collapsed. She was still conscious, but the heat was making her ill. I had noticed that she had been crouching a few minutes before she collapsed, but I hadn't thought she was sick, just tired of waiting in line. But here she was, sitting on the metal steps leading to the roller coaster, looking very faint and flushed. My uncle had turned around, and was offering her his water, as was her companion. The ride attendants put everything to a halt and called the park infirmary. During this whole scenario, I stood still and silent, not sure what to do or say. I'm very socially awkward. The Park EMTs came along, but I don't know if they took her away or not, for it seems after they arrived all the ruckus had settled down, and my uncle and I were boarding the roller coaster.
After we were secured, the ride began its ascent. This is the worst part of the ride, because it takes so long. I tried to keep from panicking, and somehow found myself engaged in conversation with my uncle, when I would normally be closing my eyes and praying fervently.
Finally, the rattling sound of the chains pulling us upwards, ended, and we sat at the top of the coaster. There was an eerie silence, a calm before the storm. And then we were rushing, rushing down hill, the wind in my face, my stomach dropping to my feet. My screams were more joy than fear.
For eleven long years, I had been terrified of this roller coaster. Then last year, in 2009, I rode the coaster with Acacia, finally conquering my fear. Now, here I was, enjoying the object of my girlhood terror with wild abandon.
We went through corkscrews and loops, and then repeated the process backwards, and still my whoops and cries remained those of excitement.
When we got off the coaster, I had hoped we would get something to drink, but instead we trekked all the way to Ghost Town so we could ride The Steamin' Demon.
The Steamin' Demon is a favorite of mine, it is a relatively short ride, but it is fast and it is very exciting. Last year I hurt my head on it, when my ears got boxed by my shoulder restraints, while going through a corkscrew.
This year, I was eager to ride the coaster, but worried about hurting my ears again. So when we went through those particular corkscrews, to avoid hitting the restraints, I craned my neck outward, like stretching a chicken's neck over a a chopping block. It strained my muscles, but at least my ears didn't get boxed!
We may have ridden the coaster a second time, though that second ride may have come later in the day. As usual, my memory is as fuzzy as a squirrel.
Afterward, we went to get some food and drink. We went back to Storytown, where my uncle ordered from the Papa Johns stand and I bought a thirteen dollar soda. Why did I pay so much for soda? Because the soda came in a special lime green collector's cup and with purchase of said cup and a special wristband, I could get free refills all day long. Any refills I got on future trips would cost me 99 cents. My uncle asked me if I was hungry, but I told him I was too excited to really eat anything, and instead opted to buy some Dippin's Dots. Unfortunately, the stand was some distance from the pizza stand, and I had to cross a small bridge to get to it. But I wanted ice cream, so I made the trek to get my chocolate ice cream pellets, which cost me five dollars and fifty cents. It was a bit of a juggle carrying my giant soda and my ice cream, but luckily the fantastical cup came with a handle, so I could loop it over my wrist like a hand bag, while I carefully carried my precious Dots back to my uncle's table. I was terrified of spilling, or having someone bump into me (people at amusement parks can often be very rude or inattentive and plow into innocent bystanders.). But my ice cream and I made it unharmed, and I sat down with my uncle, so we could enjoy our respective goodies.
I ate my delicious frozen dairy treat, despite the fact that it was quickly melting. My uncle enjoyed his pizza. He managed to get me to eat some bread sticks, which were pretty tasty.
As I ate my bread sticks, I noticed some ducks and geese lurking behind an iron fence. These ducks and geese lived along the banks of The River Dee (that delightful little body of water that runs through the amusement park), and the iron fence kept them from bothering the park guests. It's against the rules to feed them, but I ignored the little sign posted on the fence and threw pieces of bread to them. The geese and ducks ate the bits voraciously, and I hoped to god I wouldn't get caught. But I'm probably not the first nor the last person to feed these birds.
After we ate, I think we decided to ride the Steamin' Demon again. During the ride, I had a small anxiety attack and wondered if I had mislaid my wallet. This was my one and only moment of panic during this entire day (which is a record for me, I once had five anxiety attacks in one day when I went to Salem). It was difficult for me to enjoy the ride while worrying about my wallet, so I was eager for the ride to finish, so I could get off an check my purple backpack. Luckily, my wallet was right where I had left it, and while my backpack was open, I let my uncle deposit his phone and his wallet in there for safekeeping.
After our second ride on the Steamin' Demon, I am almost certain that we rode The Canyon Blaster. It's a family coaster so it's not very exciting, but we rode it anyway. I don't remember if we rode it after our first or second trip on the Steamin' Demon. I suppose it doesn't really matter does it? I always try to make these memoirs as accurate as possible, but what's the point? I'm the only one that reads these, after all.
It was hot, and we decided that it was high time to visit Splashwater Kingdom and cool off. This is what I was looking forward to, since I had enjoyed the water park so much last year. I wanted to fulfill the promise I had made to myself. The promise to ride all the slides at the Great Escape that I had never been on before. Would I be able to achieve that goal?
Coming up next...things get very soggy, and I have a traumatizing experience on a water slide.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Saturday Part 2
Now, after several weeks of delays, I present part 2!
Part 2: Orthanc and Barad-Dur
Our drive to the Great Escape was relatively uneventful. My uncle and I discussed a great many things, including my idea to eventually become an undertaker (it's a job to put bread on the embalming table, what my heart really desires is to become a writer). At one point my uncle stopped at the bank, while I waited in the car patiently.
Because my Uncle lives so close to The Great Escape, we made it to the park much quicker than Acacia and I had last year. We managed to snag a decent parking space, and made our way to the pedestrian bridge. Walking ahead of us, I noticed a young blond woman in short-shorts and cowboy boots. Amused, I pointed this out to my uncle. I was surprised that there were people who actually went out in public dressed like that. I was the exact opposite of this girl, rather butch compared to her slutty femme.
At the ticket booth, my uncle presented his season pass, and paid for my ticket. The woman at the booth told us that for no additional charge, I could get a pass that would get me six free trips. I told my uncle that such a thing wouldn't be necessary but he overrode my protests and got me the Big Six deal. It was very kind of him to do this, but I am certain I won't be able to use up all the free trips by the end of the season.
After we paid, my uncle ushered me into a special building where my Big Six pass would be made. I filled out my name, address and number on a computer, and then had my picture taken by an employee. The heavy plastic card was printed out and handed to me. I looked at my little portrait on the purple and blue rectangle; it looked like a police mugshot. Then my uncle and I set off to sample the delights of the Great Escape.
The first thing we went on was the Sasquatch, which is a pair of 192 foot tall towers that I've nicknamed Orthanc and Barad Dur. One of them launches riders to the top very suddenly and the other takes them up to the top slowly, and then drops them at an alarming speed. It's a very fun and terrifying ride.
Uncle Russ and I tried to get in line for the Drop Tower, but it was in the middle of a maintenance check, so we had to get in line for the Launch Tower.
While we waited in line, something very silly happened. An employee dressed in a Bigfoot costume came ambling along, greeting people who were waiting in line.
"I don't want to high five Sasquatch," My uncle muttered as we watched the "beast" mingle. Unfortunately, I misheard my uncle, and thought he was declaring a desire to make contact with Bigfoot, so I beckoned to it, and asked for a hug. For a moment, I was enveloped in scratchy polyester fur. Once my fuzzy embrace had ceased, I cried "Uncle Russel, give Sasquatch a high five!". And to his credit, he did do just that, despite the fact that he had not wanted to do it in the first place. When I found out that I had misunderstood him and led him into an unwanted encounter, I promised him he could have his revenge.
After Sasquatch shuffled away, Uncle Russ and I went to get on the ride. I was only mildly nervous, but since I had enjoyed it last year, I knew I would enjoy it again. So we buckled in, pulled down the shoulder restraints and waited.
The ride starts by rising at least 10 to 15 feet in the air, look down and you can see the camouflage print netting that catches things like gum, glasses, cell phones, shoes and if needed, a fallen rider. Look outwards, and depending on where you are sitting you can see the booth where the ride operators sit.
After a five or ten second countdown by the ride operator, we launched upwards, at a delightfully terrifying speed. I could hear my uncle laughing as we ascended, and I was cheering and whooping. We hit the top of the tower, and the inertia lifted us out of our seats, much to my amusement. Then we descended, bounced a few times and landed. It was all very quick, but very fun. We may have ridden the Launch Tower a second time, but I'm not entirely sure.
By the time we were done on Orthanc (the Launch Tower), The Drop Tower's maintenance was finished, so we got in line for that.
Barad-Dur, as I have named it, is a little bit scarier than Orthanc, because it takes a long time to get to the top of the tower. Then once it is at the top, all is very still before finally plummeting.
I tried to stay as calm as I could as we ascended, and took in the view. It was very breath-taking, I could see the whole park laid out before me. I saw the water slides, and some of the roller coasters. I didn't have long to gander at these sights though, for suddenly we were plunging down, cheering all the while.
We walked away from The Sasquatch, after riding both towers at least twice. I felt energized, happy. I could do anything, even ride The Boomerang, just as I had last summer, when I had faced my fear of the coaster. But this time, I'd be getting on the ride not with fear, but with joy.
Coming up...Uncle Russ and I ride the rides, and I break one of the rules.
Part 2: Orthanc and Barad-Dur
Our drive to the Great Escape was relatively uneventful. My uncle and I discussed a great many things, including my idea to eventually become an undertaker (it's a job to put bread on the embalming table, what my heart really desires is to become a writer). At one point my uncle stopped at the bank, while I waited in the car patiently.
Because my Uncle lives so close to The Great Escape, we made it to the park much quicker than Acacia and I had last year. We managed to snag a decent parking space, and made our way to the pedestrian bridge. Walking ahead of us, I noticed a young blond woman in short-shorts and cowboy boots. Amused, I pointed this out to my uncle. I was surprised that there were people who actually went out in public dressed like that. I was the exact opposite of this girl, rather butch compared to her slutty femme.
At the ticket booth, my uncle presented his season pass, and paid for my ticket. The woman at the booth told us that for no additional charge, I could get a pass that would get me six free trips. I told my uncle that such a thing wouldn't be necessary but he overrode my protests and got me the Big Six deal. It was very kind of him to do this, but I am certain I won't be able to use up all the free trips by the end of the season.
After we paid, my uncle ushered me into a special building where my Big Six pass would be made. I filled out my name, address and number on a computer, and then had my picture taken by an employee. The heavy plastic card was printed out and handed to me. I looked at my little portrait on the purple and blue rectangle; it looked like a police mugshot. Then my uncle and I set off to sample the delights of the Great Escape.
The first thing we went on was the Sasquatch, which is a pair of 192 foot tall towers that I've nicknamed Orthanc and Barad Dur. One of them launches riders to the top very suddenly and the other takes them up to the top slowly, and then drops them at an alarming speed. It's a very fun and terrifying ride.
Uncle Russ and I tried to get in line for the Drop Tower, but it was in the middle of a maintenance check, so we had to get in line for the Launch Tower.
While we waited in line, something very silly happened. An employee dressed in a Bigfoot costume came ambling along, greeting people who were waiting in line.
"I don't want to high five Sasquatch," My uncle muttered as we watched the "beast" mingle. Unfortunately, I misheard my uncle, and thought he was declaring a desire to make contact with Bigfoot, so I beckoned to it, and asked for a hug. For a moment, I was enveloped in scratchy polyester fur. Once my fuzzy embrace had ceased, I cried "Uncle Russel, give Sasquatch a high five!". And to his credit, he did do just that, despite the fact that he had not wanted to do it in the first place. When I found out that I had misunderstood him and led him into an unwanted encounter, I promised him he could have his revenge.
After Sasquatch shuffled away, Uncle Russ and I went to get on the ride. I was only mildly nervous, but since I had enjoyed it last year, I knew I would enjoy it again. So we buckled in, pulled down the shoulder restraints and waited.
The ride starts by rising at least 10 to 15 feet in the air, look down and you can see the camouflage print netting that catches things like gum, glasses, cell phones, shoes and if needed, a fallen rider. Look outwards, and depending on where you are sitting you can see the booth where the ride operators sit.
After a five or ten second countdown by the ride operator, we launched upwards, at a delightfully terrifying speed. I could hear my uncle laughing as we ascended, and I was cheering and whooping. We hit the top of the tower, and the inertia lifted us out of our seats, much to my amusement. Then we descended, bounced a few times and landed. It was all very quick, but very fun. We may have ridden the Launch Tower a second time, but I'm not entirely sure.
By the time we were done on Orthanc (the Launch Tower), The Drop Tower's maintenance was finished, so we got in line for that.
Barad-Dur, as I have named it, is a little bit scarier than Orthanc, because it takes a long time to get to the top of the tower. Then once it is at the top, all is very still before finally plummeting.
I tried to stay as calm as I could as we ascended, and took in the view. It was very breath-taking, I could see the whole park laid out before me. I saw the water slides, and some of the roller coasters. I didn't have long to gander at these sights though, for suddenly we were plunging down, cheering all the while.
We walked away from The Sasquatch, after riding both towers at least twice. I felt energized, happy. I could do anything, even ride The Boomerang, just as I had last summer, when I had faced my fear of the coaster. But this time, I'd be getting on the ride not with fear, but with joy.
Coming up...Uncle Russ and I ride the rides, and I break one of the rules.
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