I decided to at least try to finish this memoir. I'll be alternating between the two, don't get too confused.
Part 4: Splashed and Sprayed
My uncle and I made our way to the entrance of Splashwater Kingdom, the water park section of The Great Escape. Just outside the entrance were lockers we could rent to store our things. To rent one, you went to a little kiosk, paid your fee and received a key. There are also lockers inside the Splashwater kingdom.. Uncle Russell rented us a little locker just outside the entrance and we met up with my aunts, cousins and sister inside the Splashwater Kingdom. Then we briefly split up in order to change.
My bathing suit was an aqua and yellow plaid one piece, which I had liked very much for it's colors and comfort. It was prettier than the other swimsuits I owned that year, including a hot pink glittery number, and a ruffled floral abortion. These two had been given to me by the mother of a friend.. I pulled my suit on, then let my aunt coat me in sunscreen.
At the age of ten, I had already started puberty, and when I wore my bathing suit there was no denying it's presence. My hips had begun to widen and my breasts had budded. I was physically maturing, the next year I would get my first period.
While my body was maturing, my emotions still had some catching up to do. Like I mentioned earlier, I was an immature 10 year old, and because of this I found myself in Noah's Sprayground.
Noah's Sprayground is a a water play ground with a Noah's Ark theme. It's got the ark, animal themed water slides, sprinklers and even some monkey shaped swings, all set in a foot of water or less. It's generally for babies, toddlers and small kids, but I went in anyway, eager to get wet. My presence was ignored by other bathers, though I was yelled at by a lifeguard for some minor discretion. I've only visited this attraction twice. This time, and in the summer of 2000. The last time I went in, some little brat kicked me in the shins, and declared that I was too big to be there, which I found to be a testament to his parents' disciplinary skills. Whoever, and wherever this brat is today, I hope he has AIDS; ill-mannered children are the bane of our society.
Eventually I wandered away from the aquatic playland, and grabbed a hot pink inner tube from a pile, not sure where to go. It seems I had forgotten about my family. It was then, that my sister retrieved me and told me to come with her.
We were going to ride Captain Hook's River Adventure. It's one of those lazy river rides where you lay in an inner tube and float down a chlorinated man-made river. Every so often you're drenched with sprays and torrents of water, coming from fountains and anywhere else a pipe can be placed. It's one of my favorites at the Great Escape, possibly because I went on it the first time I visited the park.
The water in the 'river' was about two or feet deep, which was a relief to me, seeing as I have always had a fear of drowning. But even though the water was shallow, I still had an irrational fear that I was somehow going to slip through the inner tube and drown anyway. I also felt uneasy trying to get into the inner tube, as I always do. Those things slip and slide out from under me, when ever I try to get in one. I'm sure there's a trick to getting in them, but I haven't figured it out. Because I was having so much trouble, my aunt held the inner tube steady while I climbed on. It was a bright blue and yellow ring of vinyl joy, slick with water droplets. Once I was securely on the tube, my aunt let go.
I bobbed down the river gently, gripping the handles of the inner tube, rocked by little waves. I began to drift underneath a bridge, on which park guests walked from attraction to attraction. It was dark under there, and from the bridge, a waterfall poured. I hoped that I would get sprayed, but I did not. My disappointment did not last long, because eventually, I would end up under a giant pipe spouting water, which poured what felt like gallons of water. Getting splashed and sprayed didn't turn out to be very fun. Even to this day, I always find myself hunched over and screaming when I end up under one of the fountains.
We went around the aquatic course twice. During the second trip through my Aunt slipped through the inner tube (just as I had feared doing) and grievously hurt her shoulder. We had to leave Splashwater Kingdom so my she could go to the park's infirmary. My foray into the water park was over. Where would I go next?
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Fox and Squirrel Pt. 2
Part 2: Vermont Invading New York
We drove to Lake George, chatting and listening to music. As I usually do on road trips, I counted cemeteries and then eventually dozed for awhile. Car rides make me sleepy, they always have. For as long as I can remember, putting me in a car has resulted in putting me to sleep.
As with most road trips, I don't remember all the details, possibly because of how uneventful they usually are. I don't remember the names of the towns we drove through, or what road we were on. If I did, the story would have too many details, and thus make your head explode. I have too many details in this story as it is.
We did eventually cross into New York. I spent my time trying to recognize landmarks from my first trip to the Great Escape, but found that I remembered very little, so we kept consulting the map.
At one point, we stopped at a Stewart's. Stewart's, for those of you who don't know, is a chain of gas stations that happen to sell damn good ice cream. They are very common throughout New York state, and because I lived in upstate NY for six years, they have a lot of sentimental value to me.
We stopped at the Stewart's for several reasons. First of all, we were quite lost, and needed directions. Secondly, I had to use the bathroom, and Acacia wanted something to eat. While we did have snacks like chips and Rice Krispy Treats, she needed something substantial. So we pulled into the parking lot, and ambled out of the car. I peed, Acacia bought herself a Stewart's hamburger, some iced cappuccino drinks, and an iced tea for me; then we got our directions and left.
As Vermonters, it felt weird driving in New York and a little uncomfortable, as well. As we drove through small towns, I felt like our presence was unwelcome to locals. We found this amusing though, and began to joke about Vermont invading New York. We dubbed ourselves North and South; I cannot recall who was which. I may have been North because I was born in Burlington, but Acacia could have been North because she goes to Johnson State College. Acacia could have been South because she was raised in southern Vermont, but I could have earned the title because I live there full-time. Either way, we would call ourselves North and South for the rest of the day.
After awhile, we got lost for a second time, due to some confusion regarding our map. Something about the turn we were supposed to take didn't seem right. It didn't look like it led to an amusement park, instead it looked like a lonely country road. So we pulled into yet another gas station, cheerful European pop blasting out of our car speakers, audible to all who happened to pass by. Acacia got out to ask for directions, while I stayed in the car and enjoyed the music.
I felt something special in the air, a something I can't describe to you. It was one of those days where I realized how delicious it is to be young, one of those days where I felt free and happy. I didn't realize at the time that after this trip, I would be plunged into a deep depression that would put me in group therapy. But at that moment, I wasn't thinking about the future. I was in the present, uninhibited by the past and unconcerned for the future, reveling in my excitement and temporary good fortune. I felt my age, twenty years old and having fun.
It turns out we had taken a wrong turn, or we hadn't even made the turn, I'm not sure which. We also found out that a lot of people pull into that station to ask for directions because they always get confused by that goddamn turn. So we weren't the only ones to get lost, much to my amusement.
When we got close to Lake George, and began to see the road signs advertising the park, the traffic began to thicken. I felt a twinge of panic clutch me, and fervently hoped they weren't all headed for The Great Escape. It was unlikely, seeing as Lake George is a vacation town, and has lots of parks, camps and other summer attractions, but I couldn't help but feel that fear.
The traffic was heavy, and seemed to go on for miles and miles. We must have been five miles outside of Lake George and the traffic was already extremely dense. Subsequently, we ended up stuck in a traffic jam.
The ordeal was frustrating. Very frustrating. To ease our nerves, and have some fun, we put Phantom of the Opera into the car CD player, rolled down the windows and turned up the volume. Then we sang at the top of our lungs, with enthusiasm. High notes were hit, and nearby drivers stared. I don't know if we sounded any good, but it was an entertaining distraction.
But by the time we were in the shopping district of Lake George, the music wasn't helping. I felt frustrated and fussy. So we turned off the music, and decided to vent another way.
Swearing, often has stress and pain relieving effects. I don't know why, but it does; there have been scientific studies and everything. That being said, we decided to vent our frustrations and anxieties by swearing and swearing well. We said some filthy, obscene things and we made up some fantastically hilarious swears. One of the terms I made up was "Cunt Monkey". We found ourselves laughing, swearing and screaming at the traffic, our windows down, Lake George hearing our foul mouths. I think we may have traumatized some children or at the very least offended their parents.
Soon enough, the traffic began to clear, like mucus expectorating from congested lungs. We laughed some more, decided that our swearing had made the traffic move, and continued onward.
Soon enough, I began to notice certain landmarks that heralded the appearance of the park, including a staid office building which sits just next door to The Great Escape. I've always loved the contrast of these two opposites sitting next to each other, the office building and the amusement park.
I felt a tingle of excitement, soon we would be there! Then, at last, I saw the park itself, looking a little different than the last time I saw it, but it was still The Great Escape!
But there were other changes, beyond the ones that I could see and I was about to find out how big those changes were...
And you'll find out too! In my next installment!
We drove to Lake George, chatting and listening to music. As I usually do on road trips, I counted cemeteries and then eventually dozed for awhile. Car rides make me sleepy, they always have. For as long as I can remember, putting me in a car has resulted in putting me to sleep.
As with most road trips, I don't remember all the details, possibly because of how uneventful they usually are. I don't remember the names of the towns we drove through, or what road we were on. If I did, the story would have too many details, and thus make your head explode. I have too many details in this story as it is.
We did eventually cross into New York. I spent my time trying to recognize landmarks from my first trip to the Great Escape, but found that I remembered very little, so we kept consulting the map.
At one point, we stopped at a Stewart's. Stewart's, for those of you who don't know, is a chain of gas stations that happen to sell damn good ice cream. They are very common throughout New York state, and because I lived in upstate NY for six years, they have a lot of sentimental value to me.
We stopped at the Stewart's for several reasons. First of all, we were quite lost, and needed directions. Secondly, I had to use the bathroom, and Acacia wanted something to eat. While we did have snacks like chips and Rice Krispy Treats, she needed something substantial. So we pulled into the parking lot, and ambled out of the car. I peed, Acacia bought herself a Stewart's hamburger, some iced cappuccino drinks, and an iced tea for me; then we got our directions and left.
As Vermonters, it felt weird driving in New York and a little uncomfortable, as well. As we drove through small towns, I felt like our presence was unwelcome to locals. We found this amusing though, and began to joke about Vermont invading New York. We dubbed ourselves North and South; I cannot recall who was which. I may have been North because I was born in Burlington, but Acacia could have been North because she goes to Johnson State College. Acacia could have been South because she was raised in southern Vermont, but I could have earned the title because I live there full-time. Either way, we would call ourselves North and South for the rest of the day.
After awhile, we got lost for a second time, due to some confusion regarding our map. Something about the turn we were supposed to take didn't seem right. It didn't look like it led to an amusement park, instead it looked like a lonely country road. So we pulled into yet another gas station, cheerful European pop blasting out of our car speakers, audible to all who happened to pass by. Acacia got out to ask for directions, while I stayed in the car and enjoyed the music.
I felt something special in the air, a something I can't describe to you. It was one of those days where I realized how delicious it is to be young, one of those days where I felt free and happy. I didn't realize at the time that after this trip, I would be plunged into a deep depression that would put me in group therapy. But at that moment, I wasn't thinking about the future. I was in the present, uninhibited by the past and unconcerned for the future, reveling in my excitement and temporary good fortune. I felt my age, twenty years old and having fun.
It turns out we had taken a wrong turn, or we hadn't even made the turn, I'm not sure which. We also found out that a lot of people pull into that station to ask for directions because they always get confused by that goddamn turn. So we weren't the only ones to get lost, much to my amusement.
When we got close to Lake George, and began to see the road signs advertising the park, the traffic began to thicken. I felt a twinge of panic clutch me, and fervently hoped they weren't all headed for The Great Escape. It was unlikely, seeing as Lake George is a vacation town, and has lots of parks, camps and other summer attractions, but I couldn't help but feel that fear.
The traffic was heavy, and seemed to go on for miles and miles. We must have been five miles outside of Lake George and the traffic was already extremely dense. Subsequently, we ended up stuck in a traffic jam.
The ordeal was frustrating. Very frustrating. To ease our nerves, and have some fun, we put Phantom of the Opera into the car CD player, rolled down the windows and turned up the volume. Then we sang at the top of our lungs, with enthusiasm. High notes were hit, and nearby drivers stared. I don't know if we sounded any good, but it was an entertaining distraction.
But by the time we were in the shopping district of Lake George, the music wasn't helping. I felt frustrated and fussy. So we turned off the music, and decided to vent another way.
Swearing, often has stress and pain relieving effects. I don't know why, but it does; there have been scientific studies and everything. That being said, we decided to vent our frustrations and anxieties by swearing and swearing well. We said some filthy, obscene things and we made up some fantastically hilarious swears. One of the terms I made up was "Cunt Monkey". We found ourselves laughing, swearing and screaming at the traffic, our windows down, Lake George hearing our foul mouths. I think we may have traumatized some children or at the very least offended their parents.
Soon enough, the traffic began to clear, like mucus expectorating from congested lungs. We laughed some more, decided that our swearing had made the traffic move, and continued onward.
Soon enough, I began to notice certain landmarks that heralded the appearance of the park, including a staid office building which sits just next door to The Great Escape. I've always loved the contrast of these two opposites sitting next to each other, the office building and the amusement park.
I felt a tingle of excitement, soon we would be there! Then, at last, I saw the park itself, looking a little different than the last time I saw it, but it was still The Great Escape!
But there were other changes, beyond the ones that I could see and I was about to find out how big those changes were...
And you'll find out too! In my next installment!
Friday, November 27, 2009
Fox and Squirrel go on an Adventure
I'm taking a break from my other cyber memoir "My First Trip to the Great Escape", to impart the account of my most recent trip to the theme park, with my dear friend Acacia. Like other memoirs of mine (All amusement park themed, it seems) it will be in parts, and I hope what few readers I have will be able to keep up and not get mixed up.
Part 1: You Can't Have an Adventure on an Empty Stomach
Acacia and I first hatched our plan for a Great Escape trip on a warm summer's day. We'd spent the day swimming at the Saxton's River Rec, shopping in Rutland, and visiting the Laurel Glen cemetery in Cuttingsville, Vermont. At some point during our long day, we decided to plan a special trip. Would we go to Salem, MA? Would we go to The Montshire Museum? It had to be special. Somehow, we decided upon the Great Escape, seeing as neither of us had been there in years.
For me, the planning was rather strenuous; I had to scrounge up enough cash to buy a ticket and to pay for gas and parking (The Great Escape charged for parking!). We also had to pick a date, and arrange a schedule. There was much to do and so little time to do it! I was having anxiety attacks from the stress. But thanks to my mother's help and a bit of good luck, everything worked out. We ordered the tickets online, and my mom bought food to pack a picnic. We'd take our trip on a Monday, to beat the weekend crowds.
It had been decided that on the night before our trip I would sleep at Acacia's, for reasons of convenience. So on Sunday, August 9th, Acacia arrived at my house, in her little midnight blue car. I had packed us two bags of food for the night and the next day, sandwich makings, snacks and juice boxes. In my Sweeney Todd bag I had packed my overnight things- pajamas, clothes for the next day, items of that sort. In my purple backpack, I packed items I would need for the park- my bathing suit, my towel, medications, my money and our tickets.
Acacia and I drove to her house in good spirits. I however, was just a tiny bit anxious, triggered by my usual apprehension of going on any trips without my family (how did I survive Hershey?) and the fact that The Great Escape only accepted online tickets if you had a photo ID, which I did not have. But you'll find dear reader, that my fears were unfounded. I was not carded, not even once, during our trip.
Acacia lives in a lovely old house in Chester, with a beautiful view of the river. The rooms are gorgeous, and well decorated with various curios and knick-knacks. The house belongs to her grandparents, and she lives there during college vacations. It is also haunted, but I will discuss that later.
Once inside, we put away our food and settled in for an entertaining evening. Acacia graciously offered me a Woodchuck Hard Cider, which I accepted gladly, for I enjoy the crisp tartness of hard cider. Drinks in hand, we entered the living room, to entertain ourselves in various and sundry ways.
It was a boisterous night. We watched an anime called Axis Powers Hetalia and a couple of TV programs. We laughed and we ate sandwiches.
The night wore on. At one point, Acacia retired to the bathroom to shave her legs, giving me a chance to use the internet. We had long talks about life, the universe and everything, accompanied by plenty of music.
Soon, it was time to go to bed. We camped out in the living room; I had the couch while Acacia took the floor. We got settled in, and turned out the lights.
Sleep did not come. Besides my anxiety and excitement, my insomnia was caused by the fact that Acacia's house had it's share of spirits. Weird vibes and sounds filled the darkness. As a result, I panicked and Acacia turned on the light. As with most hauntings, the bad feelings recede when the light is on, and I felt at ease. To further my comfort, Acacia brought out incense and tarot cards. She lit the incense, releasing a sweet smell reminiscent of my childhood, an incense my mother must have used. Then she performed a tarot reading.
During the reading, we discussed my on and off again boyfriend Scott, for the trials of our affair had been plaguing me for the past two years. It helped some and I had intense feelings of comfort and ease, thanks to the ritual and the sweet incense. We returned to bed, much more willing to sleep than before. I did eventually sleep some, and had very bizarre dreams. I tend to have weird dreams whenever I sleep away from home. I woke up several times during the night, but managed to fall back asleep.
We woke up about six in the morning, ready to get on the road. I changed out of my pajamas and put on clean underwear, socks and a bra. Then, I pulled on my Torrid capris, (the same ones I wore to Hershey) and my purple t-shirt with the meditating fairy. I put on my black converse sneakers with the rainbow laces, my pentacle, my purple goddess earrings and tied my hair back into an efficient ponytail. Acacia put on a pair of khaki colored shorts, a t-shirt, the color of which escapes my memory, (I want to say it was a pale sage green) and a pair of sandals. Not flip-flops, wedges, or slides, but a pair of good proper sandals which stay put.
We had everything packed up, our food, our bathing suits and everything else, but it was only 6:15. We had hopped out of bed and gotten dressed and packed in record time. Acacia was not quite ready to leave, so she suggested making breakfast; you can't have an adventure on an empty stomach, after all.
So we made pancakes. We mixed the batter, and fried them right up. They fell apart easily and were a little misshapen, but they were still very tasty. We slathered them in butter and pancake syrup (even though we're Vermonters, we sadly lacked real maple syrup), poured ourselves glasses of milk and sat down to breakfast.
It was a good breakfast; we ate heartily and I downed two glasses of milk. We chatted over our breakfast, one of the subjects being the fact that the syrup bottle said "Pancake and Waffle Syrup". You can't call it maple, because it is not maple. It is not even close, it's artificially flavored imitation maple. It doesn't even have maple in it, I think. It tastes like it, but it's a vague, overly sweet maple-y flavor. It's not bad, but it's not the real thing. Like silicone tits, you can look at them, they're pretty if they're done right, but they'll never feel as nice as the real thing.
After breakfast, I took my Cylexa and a Xanax for my anxiety and we chilled for awhile (Or did we chill before we had breakfast?). I was anxious to leave, but Acacia was the driver and since she had the keys, she made the decisions.
We left around seven. I put in my American Indian flute music, but it made us too sleepy, so we switched to more cheerful music to gear us up. We drove to Springfield, in order to stop at Acacia's bank so she could get some money. I didn't mind too much, until we discovered we had at least a half an hour before her bank opened! We waited that grueling 30 minutes reading New England ghost stories to each other. When the bank opened, we went in and Acacia withdrew some money from her account. Then we got back in the car, and made ready to journey to Lake George.
But we forgot the map. Not having a map put a damper on our plans. A big one. So we sped back to Chester and ran into the house to get the map, while I reminded myself that everything would work out fine. Once we fetched the map, we could officially begin our adventure.
Stay tuned for part 2!
Part 1: You Can't Have an Adventure on an Empty Stomach
Acacia and I first hatched our plan for a Great Escape trip on a warm summer's day. We'd spent the day swimming at the Saxton's River Rec, shopping in Rutland, and visiting the Laurel Glen cemetery in Cuttingsville, Vermont. At some point during our long day, we decided to plan a special trip. Would we go to Salem, MA? Would we go to The Montshire Museum? It had to be special. Somehow, we decided upon the Great Escape, seeing as neither of us had been there in years.
For me, the planning was rather strenuous; I had to scrounge up enough cash to buy a ticket and to pay for gas and parking (The Great Escape charged for parking!). We also had to pick a date, and arrange a schedule. There was much to do and so little time to do it! I was having anxiety attacks from the stress. But thanks to my mother's help and a bit of good luck, everything worked out. We ordered the tickets online, and my mom bought food to pack a picnic. We'd take our trip on a Monday, to beat the weekend crowds.
It had been decided that on the night before our trip I would sleep at Acacia's, for reasons of convenience. So on Sunday, August 9th, Acacia arrived at my house, in her little midnight blue car. I had packed us two bags of food for the night and the next day, sandwich makings, snacks and juice boxes. In my Sweeney Todd bag I had packed my overnight things- pajamas, clothes for the next day, items of that sort. In my purple backpack, I packed items I would need for the park- my bathing suit, my towel, medications, my money and our tickets.
Acacia and I drove to her house in good spirits. I however, was just a tiny bit anxious, triggered by my usual apprehension of going on any trips without my family (how did I survive Hershey?) and the fact that The Great Escape only accepted online tickets if you had a photo ID, which I did not have. But you'll find dear reader, that my fears were unfounded. I was not carded, not even once, during our trip.
Acacia lives in a lovely old house in Chester, with a beautiful view of the river. The rooms are gorgeous, and well decorated with various curios and knick-knacks. The house belongs to her grandparents, and she lives there during college vacations. It is also haunted, but I will discuss that later.
Once inside, we put away our food and settled in for an entertaining evening. Acacia graciously offered me a Woodchuck Hard Cider, which I accepted gladly, for I enjoy the crisp tartness of hard cider. Drinks in hand, we entered the living room, to entertain ourselves in various and sundry ways.
It was a boisterous night. We watched an anime called Axis Powers Hetalia and a couple of TV programs. We laughed and we ate sandwiches.
The night wore on. At one point, Acacia retired to the bathroom to shave her legs, giving me a chance to use the internet. We had long talks about life, the universe and everything, accompanied by plenty of music.
Soon, it was time to go to bed. We camped out in the living room; I had the couch while Acacia took the floor. We got settled in, and turned out the lights.
Sleep did not come. Besides my anxiety and excitement, my insomnia was caused by the fact that Acacia's house had it's share of spirits. Weird vibes and sounds filled the darkness. As a result, I panicked and Acacia turned on the light. As with most hauntings, the bad feelings recede when the light is on, and I felt at ease. To further my comfort, Acacia brought out incense and tarot cards. She lit the incense, releasing a sweet smell reminiscent of my childhood, an incense my mother must have used. Then she performed a tarot reading.
During the reading, we discussed my on and off again boyfriend Scott, for the trials of our affair had been plaguing me for the past two years. It helped some and I had intense feelings of comfort and ease, thanks to the ritual and the sweet incense. We returned to bed, much more willing to sleep than before. I did eventually sleep some, and had very bizarre dreams. I tend to have weird dreams whenever I sleep away from home. I woke up several times during the night, but managed to fall back asleep.
We woke up about six in the morning, ready to get on the road. I changed out of my pajamas and put on clean underwear, socks and a bra. Then, I pulled on my Torrid capris, (the same ones I wore to Hershey) and my purple t-shirt with the meditating fairy. I put on my black converse sneakers with the rainbow laces, my pentacle, my purple goddess earrings and tied my hair back into an efficient ponytail. Acacia put on a pair of khaki colored shorts, a t-shirt, the color of which escapes my memory, (I want to say it was a pale sage green) and a pair of sandals. Not flip-flops, wedges, or slides, but a pair of good proper sandals which stay put.
We had everything packed up, our food, our bathing suits and everything else, but it was only 6:15. We had hopped out of bed and gotten dressed and packed in record time. Acacia was not quite ready to leave, so she suggested making breakfast; you can't have an adventure on an empty stomach, after all.
So we made pancakes. We mixed the batter, and fried them right up. They fell apart easily and were a little misshapen, but they were still very tasty. We slathered them in butter and pancake syrup (even though we're Vermonters, we sadly lacked real maple syrup), poured ourselves glasses of milk and sat down to breakfast.
It was a good breakfast; we ate heartily and I downed two glasses of milk. We chatted over our breakfast, one of the subjects being the fact that the syrup bottle said "Pancake and Waffle Syrup". You can't call it maple, because it is not maple. It is not even close, it's artificially flavored imitation maple. It doesn't even have maple in it, I think. It tastes like it, but it's a vague, overly sweet maple-y flavor. It's not bad, but it's not the real thing. Like silicone tits, you can look at them, they're pretty if they're done right, but they'll never feel as nice as the real thing.
After breakfast, I took my Cylexa and a Xanax for my anxiety and we chilled for awhile (Or did we chill before we had breakfast?). I was anxious to leave, but Acacia was the driver and since she had the keys, she made the decisions.
We left around seven. I put in my American Indian flute music, but it made us too sleepy, so we switched to more cheerful music to gear us up. We drove to Springfield, in order to stop at Acacia's bank so she could get some money. I didn't mind too much, until we discovered we had at least a half an hour before her bank opened! We waited that grueling 30 minutes reading New England ghost stories to each other. When the bank opened, we went in and Acacia withdrew some money from her account. Then we got back in the car, and made ready to journey to Lake George.
But we forgot the map. Not having a map put a damper on our plans. A big one. So we sped back to Chester and ran into the house to get the map, while I reminded myself that everything would work out fine. Once we fetched the map, we could officially begin our adventure.
Stay tuned for part 2!
Saturday, August 8, 2009
The Great Escape Part 3
Part 3: Game For Anything
We exited Storytown through a man-made rock tunnel, which went under a waterfall. Directly behind the waterfall, was a window, where guests could stick out their hands and touch the water. Well, at least I did that, and still do whenever I go to the Great Escape.
The inside of the tunnel was cool, and quiet, the only noise being the echoes of other guests. I looked up at the ceiling and thought I saw little gems in the rock. I soon realized that these weren't fake gems to make the rock pretty, but used chewing gum! It was stuck all over the walls and ceiling! I can see how it go on the walls, but the ceiling? How on earth did that gum end up on the ceiling? Did some very tall people put it there? God only knows, and I'll never find out. Maybe I should ask a park employee someday.
When we left the tunnel, we were assaulted by the bright afternoon light and the cheesiness of Ghost Town. Complete with saloons, actors performing shoot-outs and all the accouterments required to have a proper Wild West theme. It also happened to be dreadfully crowded.
Desperate to go on a ride, I picked out a ride I had seen when entering the park, seen only because of it's height, The Condor. This ride goes fifty feet in the air, it's passengers in bird shaped carriages. It circles either fast or slow depending on the operator and can be seen as either very dull or very fun. I found it neither.
I got in a carriage with my Aunt Elizabeth, but decided I was a big girl (being ten) and wanted my own bird. I got in it eagerly, and prepared to buckle in, but got a big surprise when I didn't find any safety restraints! No seat belt. No lap bar. Nothing. I began to panic, wondering how I'd be kept from falling out, wondering if I had a defective bird. I think I began to call the ride attendant for help. You can imagine my relief then, when I discovered that there was a little automatic gate that would slide closed, and keep me from falling out of the bird. I do not remember how I found out about this, but I think the ride attendant may have been involved.
The Condor went slowly enough, but it was very, very high up. I remember looking down and feeling immense fear. The people below looked like little specks, the ground so very far away. I could not enjoy the view, so scared was I. When the ride was over, I wanted to go on more rides, but we had to wait for everyone to catch up with us.
This was my low point of the day. I end up having a childish temper tantrum, which earned me a short time out on an uncomfortable park bench. My discomfort was due to the fact that it was a hard wooden bench, with a thick plank just randomly nailed to it. Being in a foul mood did not improve matters, either. I didn't sit there too long, but it was still unpleasant.
Eventually, we met up with the rest of the group and we got in line for a log flume ride known as The Desperado Plunge. For a little while, it had been re-named The Poland Springs Plunge (let's hear it for blatant advertising!), but the new commercial name didn't stick too long. It's now called The Desperado Plunge again. The Plunge is one of those extended wait rides, because there are so few boats available. There are like, four or five of these barrel-shaped boats, and they can hold a maximum of four people, though they can be filled with as little as two passengers.
We stood in line for about half an hour. I whined several times during the wait, and my aunt asked me if I wanted to turn around and get out of line. Sullenly, I said no, and saw it through.
When it was our turn we got loaded up, four to one boat and three to another (there were seven of us if I recall correctly). Each boat is divided into two little compartments. Each of these compartments has a long, narrow, vinyl covered seat. My Aunt Elizabeth and I sat in front compartment, where my aunt let me sit in front of her. My sister Katie rode in the back compartment, but I do not remember who she sat with.
The ride started out slowly, going down the stream, bumping into the sides gently. I looked around, seeing the outskirts of the park, where old ride parts are abandoned, The Plunge is right on the outskirts of the park where on one side of the fence, guests mill about happily, but the other side seems abandoned, dusty and desolate, littered with the corpses of old rides. Seeing this borderline was the beginning of a strange phobia. I don't like the edges of amusement parks, that's where the magic ends, and gritty reality begins.
The boat began to be pulled up a conveyor belt, but I didn't know why. I probably assumed that after we went uphill, the ride would remain gentle. I was proven wrong though. We'd been released onto a whitewater flume, which moved fast, and had some sudden drops. Water splashed up the sides of the boat, splattered us. I gripped the handlebars that flanked the inner sides of the boat.
After a medium sized drop, we floated into a strange warehouse like-building, the side which faced the road had the Great Escape legend painted on it. Inside this strange edifice, it was dark and had the musty smell of old wood, which I associated with The Shelburne Museum. There were creepy logger dummies, some of which were automated, doing different tasks. For a moment, I had thought they were actors, but I know now they were not. My sister told me they were former employees turned into dummies.
When we were about exit the creepy building, when my sister gleefully told me to look up. Above my head were two dummies, one of which was tangled in a net, a frightened expression frozen on his face, the other, clinging to a revolving log, reaching down towards us riders. As a ten-year-old girl, I was utterly disturbed by these plastic fellows.
I didn't have much time to concentrate on this however, for the ride had taken a sudden, very steep plunge. This was the grand finale of the ride, the meaning behind its name. My stomach dropped, and I clung to the sides of the boat. When we hit the water, a great wave splashed up onto us, drenching our laps. When we exited the ride, I looked down at my soaked lap and thought that it looked like I had pissed myself.
I was greeted with another surprise when I learned that there was a camera that took photos of you as you take the plunge downhill. I looked at my expression in the photo; I had a strange grimace, that made me look vaguely constipated.
After we went on this ride, my uncle asked me if I wanted to ride The Steamin' Demon roller coaster. I was game for anything so I said yes. While everyone else went off to eat lunch, my Uncle Russ and I ran to get in line for the ride. It wasn't a very long line if I recall, (because the ride is very fast) and we got seated quickly. My uncle pocketed my glasses (after The Boomerang incident, I would no longer risk it), we buckled in, and lowered the shoulder restraints. The ride was fast, furious and a little traumatizing, but afterwards, my uncle convinced me to go on a second time. Like the first, I remember little of this one, other than screaming "OH! NO! NOT AGAIN!" each time the ride went upside down.
Afterwards, my uncle took me to a Wild West themed cafe (I can't remember what its name was) situated near the roller coaster, that sold fried chicken and other down home country comestibles. We got corn on the cob, barbecue chicken and fries, with sodas. But the food turned out to be terrible! The corn was bitter, the fries were cold. I don't remember what the chicken tasted like. We lost our appetites and decided to rent a locker so we could meet everyone else at The Splashwater Kingdom section of the park. It was time to take a swim.
We exited Storytown through a man-made rock tunnel, which went under a waterfall. Directly behind the waterfall, was a window, where guests could stick out their hands and touch the water. Well, at least I did that, and still do whenever I go to the Great Escape.
The inside of the tunnel was cool, and quiet, the only noise being the echoes of other guests. I looked up at the ceiling and thought I saw little gems in the rock. I soon realized that these weren't fake gems to make the rock pretty, but used chewing gum! It was stuck all over the walls and ceiling! I can see how it go on the walls, but the ceiling? How on earth did that gum end up on the ceiling? Did some very tall people put it there? God only knows, and I'll never find out. Maybe I should ask a park employee someday.
When we left the tunnel, we were assaulted by the bright afternoon light and the cheesiness of Ghost Town. Complete with saloons, actors performing shoot-outs and all the accouterments required to have a proper Wild West theme. It also happened to be dreadfully crowded.
Desperate to go on a ride, I picked out a ride I had seen when entering the park, seen only because of it's height, The Condor. This ride goes fifty feet in the air, it's passengers in bird shaped carriages. It circles either fast or slow depending on the operator and can be seen as either very dull or very fun. I found it neither.
I got in a carriage with my Aunt Elizabeth, but decided I was a big girl (being ten) and wanted my own bird. I got in it eagerly, and prepared to buckle in, but got a big surprise when I didn't find any safety restraints! No seat belt. No lap bar. Nothing. I began to panic, wondering how I'd be kept from falling out, wondering if I had a defective bird. I think I began to call the ride attendant for help. You can imagine my relief then, when I discovered that there was a little automatic gate that would slide closed, and keep me from falling out of the bird. I do not remember how I found out about this, but I think the ride attendant may have been involved.
The Condor went slowly enough, but it was very, very high up. I remember looking down and feeling immense fear. The people below looked like little specks, the ground so very far away. I could not enjoy the view, so scared was I. When the ride was over, I wanted to go on more rides, but we had to wait for everyone to catch up with us.
This was my low point of the day. I end up having a childish temper tantrum, which earned me a short time out on an uncomfortable park bench. My discomfort was due to the fact that it was a hard wooden bench, with a thick plank just randomly nailed to it. Being in a foul mood did not improve matters, either. I didn't sit there too long, but it was still unpleasant.
Eventually, we met up with the rest of the group and we got in line for a log flume ride known as The Desperado Plunge. For a little while, it had been re-named The Poland Springs Plunge (let's hear it for blatant advertising!), but the new commercial name didn't stick too long. It's now called The Desperado Plunge again. The Plunge is one of those extended wait rides, because there are so few boats available. There are like, four or five of these barrel-shaped boats, and they can hold a maximum of four people, though they can be filled with as little as two passengers.
We stood in line for about half an hour. I whined several times during the wait, and my aunt asked me if I wanted to turn around and get out of line. Sullenly, I said no, and saw it through.
When it was our turn we got loaded up, four to one boat and three to another (there were seven of us if I recall correctly). Each boat is divided into two little compartments. Each of these compartments has a long, narrow, vinyl covered seat. My Aunt Elizabeth and I sat in front compartment, where my aunt let me sit in front of her. My sister Katie rode in the back compartment, but I do not remember who she sat with.
The ride started out slowly, going down the stream, bumping into the sides gently. I looked around, seeing the outskirts of the park, where old ride parts are abandoned, The Plunge is right on the outskirts of the park where on one side of the fence, guests mill about happily, but the other side seems abandoned, dusty and desolate, littered with the corpses of old rides. Seeing this borderline was the beginning of a strange phobia. I don't like the edges of amusement parks, that's where the magic ends, and gritty reality begins.
The boat began to be pulled up a conveyor belt, but I didn't know why. I probably assumed that after we went uphill, the ride would remain gentle. I was proven wrong though. We'd been released onto a whitewater flume, which moved fast, and had some sudden drops. Water splashed up the sides of the boat, splattered us. I gripped the handlebars that flanked the inner sides of the boat.
After a medium sized drop, we floated into a strange warehouse like-building, the side which faced the road had the Great Escape legend painted on it. Inside this strange edifice, it was dark and had the musty smell of old wood, which I associated with The Shelburne Museum. There were creepy logger dummies, some of which were automated, doing different tasks. For a moment, I had thought they were actors, but I know now they were not. My sister told me they were former employees turned into dummies.
When we were about exit the creepy building, when my sister gleefully told me to look up. Above my head were two dummies, one of which was tangled in a net, a frightened expression frozen on his face, the other, clinging to a revolving log, reaching down towards us riders. As a ten-year-old girl, I was utterly disturbed by these plastic fellows.
I didn't have much time to concentrate on this however, for the ride had taken a sudden, very steep plunge. This was the grand finale of the ride, the meaning behind its name. My stomach dropped, and I clung to the sides of the boat. When we hit the water, a great wave splashed up onto us, drenching our laps. When we exited the ride, I looked down at my soaked lap and thought that it looked like I had pissed myself.
I was greeted with another surprise when I learned that there was a camera that took photos of you as you take the plunge downhill. I looked at my expression in the photo; I had a strange grimace, that made me look vaguely constipated.
After we went on this ride, my uncle asked me if I wanted to ride The Steamin' Demon roller coaster. I was game for anything so I said yes. While everyone else went off to eat lunch, my Uncle Russ and I ran to get in line for the ride. It wasn't a very long line if I recall, (because the ride is very fast) and we got seated quickly. My uncle pocketed my glasses (after The Boomerang incident, I would no longer risk it), we buckled in, and lowered the shoulder restraints. The ride was fast, furious and a little traumatizing, but afterwards, my uncle convinced me to go on a second time. Like the first, I remember little of this one, other than screaming "OH! NO! NOT AGAIN!" each time the ride went upside down.
Afterwards, my uncle took me to a Wild West themed cafe (I can't remember what its name was) situated near the roller coaster, that sold fried chicken and other down home country comestibles. We got corn on the cob, barbecue chicken and fries, with sodas. But the food turned out to be terrible! The corn was bitter, the fries were cold. I don't remember what the chicken tasted like. We lost our appetites and decided to rent a locker so we could meet everyone else at The Splashwater Kingdom section of the park. It was time to take a swim.
Friday, August 7, 2009
My First Trip to The Great Escape Part 2
Part 2: Shell-shocked and Amazed
Though slightly shaken by my experience on The Rainbow, I was game to try another ride. It was decided that we would go on The Boomerang Coast to Coast Roller Coaster. I don't remember how many of my group got in line, though I experienced some apprehension and almost chickened out.
It would be my first real roller coaster. Earlier that year, my uncle Russell and I rode a roller coaster simulator at an arcade. It was a pod that tilted and spun, while the riders watched a virtual roller coaster on the screen inside. I recall feeling traumatized from going upside down. But now as I stood in the relatively short line, I wasn't even thinking of the arcade simulator or the discomfort I had felt on it. I was only thinking of how much fun I would have on my first roller coaster. At one point I passed a trash can, and went to look in it out of curiosity.
"You don't wanna look in there" My aunt said. I wondered why. Was there vomit in there? It was a roller coaster, after all. What could be in there? I realize now, that there was more likely to be vomit in the trashcan near the ride exit, as opposed to being in the ride entrance.
As I waited in line, I listened to the screams of people already on the roller coaster. They blended into a mass chorus, unearthly and strange. Many voices became one, and that voice seemed oddly far away. The sound was quite surreal, I'd never heard a large group of people scream in unison, terror and exhilaration blending into a single expression. Would I scream like they were?
I was going to find out, for soon I found myself getting on the ride. I buckled in, lowered the shoulder restraint. My aunt said something to me, but I can't recall what it was.
Because the roller coaster goes backwards as well as forwards, instead of going uphill in the conventional way, the Boomerang gets pulled up the first hill backwards in order to be launched.
As it began to climb up the hill, I began to doubt getting on the ride. It was a lot higher than I imagined, and I found myself incredibly frightened. My body was slipping downward, and I grasped the handles on the restraint, trying to pull myself up. It was too late to change my mind though, for soon enough the cars were speeding downhill, after the grueling ascent. It was frighteningly fast and I regretted not taking off my glasses. Fearing I'd lose them, I wrestled my hand through one of the handlebars on the shoulder restraint, using my forearm to hold onto the restraint and my hand to hold onto my glasses.
After it had gone through two twists and a loop, it began to drag itself up the second hill, to prepare for the backwards half of the ride. As it did so, shell-shocked and amazed, I whispered "Mother" very softly. I thought I sounded quite like Daffy Duck when I did so.
It was worse going backwards. This time, I was aware of how weightless I was in the roller coaster, being thrown about like a rag doll, feeling like I was going to fall out of the coaster.
When it was over, I walked off the coaster shaking slightly, feeling slightly sour in the stomach. I wanted to go on something a little more gentle. So I chose the Grand Carousel as my next ride.
The carousel at the Great Escape was the most beautiful one I'd ever seen, at least at that point in my life. I've seen more beautiful since. There were fancy horses and animals, some sparkling in the summer sun. The blue-green horse with the mermaid's tail comes to mind. But I did not get a beautiful horse. I got an average horse, much to my chagrin, seeing as I was one of the last people to get on. I was also surprised that I had to buckle in, with a polyester strap that wrapped around the waist, attached to the pole the horse was skewered onto. This was new to me, I'd never had to buckle in on a merry-go-round before.
When I was little the carousel was my favorite ride. I rode them at the fair, at the Shelburne museum (theirs dates from the 1920's) and even rode the little cheesy ones in front of the grocery stores. I adored them. Even now, they still hold some fascination and nostalgia for me. But at ten, I'd found myself a little bored. On the horse next to me, sat a girl my age; I tried to engage her in conversation. I told her that today was my first trip to The Great Escape. Instead of being nice like I expected, she bragged, saying she'd come to the park hundreds of times. I thought she was terribly rude.
After I went on the merry-go-round, I decided to go on the Cinderella Coach ride, in the fairytale section of the park. This section had little houses, all from infamous nursery rhymes and fairy tales, most of which came from the original Storybook Land amusement park, which was built on the grounds where the Great Escape now stands. At the center of it all, was The Grand Carousel and to the left of that was The Cinderella ride, which was no more than a pumpkin shaped coach lead by two ponies. But, in the coach, was Cinderella herself. In reality, Cinderella is a blond park employee in a prom dress and clear plastic dress shoes. But to a little kid, this impostor is the real deal. All in all though, the ride isn't very exciting and it isn't very fancy, but it is still appealing to children.
I may have been ten, but I was a rather immature ten, who had no idea her behavior was an anachronism to her peers. While they would have scorned such a "baby ride" I jumped onto it, with eagerness and curiosity.
It was a mistake. The coach was small and crowded, Cinderella taking up one side ( why she needed that side of the coach to herself is beyond my guess, as her ass didn't look that big), and us kids on the other. While the coach made it's trip around the oval-shaped track I felt hot and crowded, my discomfort only made worse by the toddler next to me, who perched on his sister's lap, decided to place his sticky hand on my thigh for balance. I didn't understand that was the logical reason, until this was explained to my by my fifth grade teacher, who, when helping me write a narrative of this adventure for class (one which I never finished). She said that I should add it to the story, so it wouldn't seem like the kid was, as she put it, "being fresh". I just thought he was invading my personal space because he was being an idiot. Actually, 11 years later, I'm convinced the kid was idiot, because only and idiot would invade a stranger's personal space "for balance". But then again, he was a toddler, and generally, toddlers are idiots.
Nonetheless, the unwanted contact was annoying, as I have issues with my personal space being invaded without my permission. So to distract myself, I talked to Cinderella. I complimented her on her shoes, and she smiled and told me, they were just replacements, her real glass slippers were in the shop. In hindsight, she may have been explaining why they were plastic. I looked out the windows, admired the fountains, and the fake castle in the center of the oval track. I tried to pretend I was really on my way to a ball.
But when the ride ended, I was considerably grouchy. It was hot and the group had separated, making me panic. We would meet up with them again, however, in the Old West section of the park, which I will describe to you in my next entry. Stay tuned!
Though slightly shaken by my experience on The Rainbow, I was game to try another ride. It was decided that we would go on The Boomerang Coast to Coast Roller Coaster. I don't remember how many of my group got in line, though I experienced some apprehension and almost chickened out.
It would be my first real roller coaster. Earlier that year, my uncle Russell and I rode a roller coaster simulator at an arcade. It was a pod that tilted and spun, while the riders watched a virtual roller coaster on the screen inside. I recall feeling traumatized from going upside down. But now as I stood in the relatively short line, I wasn't even thinking of the arcade simulator or the discomfort I had felt on it. I was only thinking of how much fun I would have on my first roller coaster. At one point I passed a trash can, and went to look in it out of curiosity.
"You don't wanna look in there" My aunt said. I wondered why. Was there vomit in there? It was a roller coaster, after all. What could be in there? I realize now, that there was more likely to be vomit in the trashcan near the ride exit, as opposed to being in the ride entrance.
As I waited in line, I listened to the screams of people already on the roller coaster. They blended into a mass chorus, unearthly and strange. Many voices became one, and that voice seemed oddly far away. The sound was quite surreal, I'd never heard a large group of people scream in unison, terror and exhilaration blending into a single expression. Would I scream like they were?
I was going to find out, for soon I found myself getting on the ride. I buckled in, lowered the shoulder restraint. My aunt said something to me, but I can't recall what it was.
Because the roller coaster goes backwards as well as forwards, instead of going uphill in the conventional way, the Boomerang gets pulled up the first hill backwards in order to be launched.
As it began to climb up the hill, I began to doubt getting on the ride. It was a lot higher than I imagined, and I found myself incredibly frightened. My body was slipping downward, and I grasped the handles on the restraint, trying to pull myself up. It was too late to change my mind though, for soon enough the cars were speeding downhill, after the grueling ascent. It was frighteningly fast and I regretted not taking off my glasses. Fearing I'd lose them, I wrestled my hand through one of the handlebars on the shoulder restraint, using my forearm to hold onto the restraint and my hand to hold onto my glasses.
After it had gone through two twists and a loop, it began to drag itself up the second hill, to prepare for the backwards half of the ride. As it did so, shell-shocked and amazed, I whispered "Mother" very softly. I thought I sounded quite like Daffy Duck when I did so.
It was worse going backwards. This time, I was aware of how weightless I was in the roller coaster, being thrown about like a rag doll, feeling like I was going to fall out of the coaster.
When it was over, I walked off the coaster shaking slightly, feeling slightly sour in the stomach. I wanted to go on something a little more gentle. So I chose the Grand Carousel as my next ride.
The carousel at the Great Escape was the most beautiful one I'd ever seen, at least at that point in my life. I've seen more beautiful since. There were fancy horses and animals, some sparkling in the summer sun. The blue-green horse with the mermaid's tail comes to mind. But I did not get a beautiful horse. I got an average horse, much to my chagrin, seeing as I was one of the last people to get on. I was also surprised that I had to buckle in, with a polyester strap that wrapped around the waist, attached to the pole the horse was skewered onto. This was new to me, I'd never had to buckle in on a merry-go-round before.
When I was little the carousel was my favorite ride. I rode them at the fair, at the Shelburne museum (theirs dates from the 1920's) and even rode the little cheesy ones in front of the grocery stores. I adored them. Even now, they still hold some fascination and nostalgia for me. But at ten, I'd found myself a little bored. On the horse next to me, sat a girl my age; I tried to engage her in conversation. I told her that today was my first trip to The Great Escape. Instead of being nice like I expected, she bragged, saying she'd come to the park hundreds of times. I thought she was terribly rude.
After I went on the merry-go-round, I decided to go on the Cinderella Coach ride, in the fairytale section of the park. This section had little houses, all from infamous nursery rhymes and fairy tales, most of which came from the original Storybook Land amusement park, which was built on the grounds where the Great Escape now stands. At the center of it all, was The Grand Carousel and to the left of that was The Cinderella ride, which was no more than a pumpkin shaped coach lead by two ponies. But, in the coach, was Cinderella herself. In reality, Cinderella is a blond park employee in a prom dress and clear plastic dress shoes. But to a little kid, this impostor is the real deal. All in all though, the ride isn't very exciting and it isn't very fancy, but it is still appealing to children.
I may have been ten, but I was a rather immature ten, who had no idea her behavior was an anachronism to her peers. While they would have scorned such a "baby ride" I jumped onto it, with eagerness and curiosity.
It was a mistake. The coach was small and crowded, Cinderella taking up one side ( why she needed that side of the coach to herself is beyond my guess, as her ass didn't look that big), and us kids on the other. While the coach made it's trip around the oval-shaped track I felt hot and crowded, my discomfort only made worse by the toddler next to me, who perched on his sister's lap, decided to place his sticky hand on my thigh for balance. I didn't understand that was the logical reason, until this was explained to my by my fifth grade teacher, who, when helping me write a narrative of this adventure for class (one which I never finished). She said that I should add it to the story, so it wouldn't seem like the kid was, as she put it, "being fresh". I just thought he was invading my personal space because he was being an idiot. Actually, 11 years later, I'm convinced the kid was idiot, because only and idiot would invade a stranger's personal space "for balance". But then again, he was a toddler, and generally, toddlers are idiots.
Nonetheless, the unwanted contact was annoying, as I have issues with my personal space being invaded without my permission. So to distract myself, I talked to Cinderella. I complimented her on her shoes, and she smiled and told me, they were just replacements, her real glass slippers were in the shop. In hindsight, she may have been explaining why they were plastic. I looked out the windows, admired the fountains, and the fake castle in the center of the oval track. I tried to pretend I was really on my way to a ball.
But when the ride ended, I was considerably grouchy. It was hot and the group had separated, making me panic. We would meet up with them again, however, in the Old West section of the park, which I will describe to you in my next entry. Stay tuned!
Thursday, August 6, 2009
My First Trip to The Great Escape
Like I've said, I often like to stroll down memory lane. The Elfquest equivalent of this is known as a Howl. So tonight's Howl, is for my first trip to The Great Escape. I have decided to excavate this decade old memory because this Monday, I will be going to the park for the first time in four years, making it my 9th trip to The Great Escape. Like the Hershey Memoir, this will be written in parts. Because the memory is so old, it will be kind of shaky and have some holes in it.
Part 1: The Creme de la Creme of All Summer Trips
It happened the summer I was 10, my family was living on West Allen Street in Winooski, Vermont and planning on moving to New York. In between all this chaos, I still managed to swim, play and enjoy myself. That summer I had been to camp, (which had been a traumatizing experience) and attended a gamut of cook-outs. But all our neighbors were going to The Great Escape, and had been for years, and I was quite jealous. My sisters had been before as well, and that too had me filled with envy.
So you can imagine my surprise and delight, when I was given the chance to go to the fabled park. It had started when my mother answered a seemingly mundane call from my Aunt Elizabeth. My aunt spent plenty of time with me in those days, taking me on various trips and adventures. When she married my Uncle Russell, this did not change, he joined in on the fun. All that summer, the two of them took my sisters and I on swimming trips and the like, and now they were taking my sister, Katie and I on the creme de la creme of all summer trips!
My mother turned to me, still on the phone and asked if I wanted to go to The Great Escape with my aunt. She didn't even need to ask! Eagerly, I said yes, and ran outside to tell all my redneck neighbors. They took my news with good humor, though one of them, a Mr. Peter Parker, told me there was a ride that flung you straight in the air and if it hit the water it was a water ride. If not, well you were dead. At the time, I was a gullible little guppy and believed him, much to the amusement of all the hicks.
That night, my Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Russell came for my sister Katie and I. They took us to their apartment located in The Old North End of Burlington. We would stay there for the night, in order to get a bright start that morning. I had packed some clothes, my aqua green and yellow plaid swimsuit, my teddy bear and my ADD medication. I remember being wonderfully excited for the next day!
When we arrived at the small apartment, my aunt and I walked her dog, Cody, whose ears I had chewed on in my infancy. She's no longer with us, but I remember her very well. She was a patient and loving dog, who used to let my uncle wrap ace bandages around her head. He had also made signs for her kennel that said: "Anthrax Victim" and "POW".
After we went inside, I played with my aunt's paper dolls. She had Movie Monster Paperdolls and a set of little boys and girls in clothes from the 1920's. My fourteen-year-old sister played video games. While we amused ourselves, my aunt made the sleeping arrangements, she and I would share her bed, my sister would have the futon couch and my uncle would take the floor.
That night, I couldn't sleep because I was too excited. I tossed and turned and rolled about, before finally falling asleep. I had strange dreams. When we woke up, my Aunt, Uncle and I compared our dreams. Then we had breakfast.
After getting dressed (I vaguely recall wearing a pair of navy blue jersey shorts I favored, and a red t-shirt) and packing up the car, we set off for Lake George.
Along with Aunt Elizabeth, Uncle Russell, Katie and I, we would be accompanied by my Aunt Amy, my cousin Gabrielle (her daughter) and my cousin Ethan (my Aunt Michelle's son). I hadn't seen either Aunt Amy or Cousin Gabrielle in some time, nor did I communicate with them very much, so it was kind of exciting.
The ride was long and to a ten-year-old girl, rather boring; I sat behind the driver's seat, and spent most of my time looking out the window. I remember seeing a sign for Fort Anne and I remember seeing a few motels. We played my sister's Rob Zombie tape, it was Hellbilly Deluxe. Some of it was a little disturbing for me, but I did enjoy a few of the songs.
We took several bathroom breaks, and on one of them we met up with my Aunt Amy and my cousins. Aunt Elizabeth gave me some Dramamine that was dark pink and tasted slightly of raspberry. After, I noticed a castle in the mountains. A castle! My aunt told me it was a restaurant, and that she stopped there to use the bathroom once. I learned later, that it was reputedly haunted; it had been a mansion, and a woman had been murdered there.
We drove through Lake George and oh, did my eyes widen at the sights! I saw a pirate-themed miniature golf course, the biggest mini-golf course I had ever seen. I saw so many fantastic things, most of which I can not recall, but know they were amazing.
Soon enough, the park came into view, surrounded by mountains and trees. How exciting it was, to see the Great Escape billboard, plastered on to the side of the log flume ride! Even now, I can feel it, that childish flush of excitement in my chest and belly, the urge to start screaming and running in circles. I felt such an excited sense of wonder, one I still feel from time to time whenever I go on a fun trip.
We parked across the road from the park. We met up with Aunt Amy and the cousins, and went to get in the admission line. I was so excited, looking forward to my first amusement park trip. I remember holding my Aunt's hand as we crossed the street. This was before they had installed the pedestrian bridge that spanned over the busy traffic, so crossing the street was a harrowing experience.
As we waited in line to buy our tickets, I looked with wide eyes at the different rides. I saw a large steel roller coaster, The Steamin' Demon and two other thrill rides, The Rainbow and The Condor. I asked my uncle which we should go on first. He picked The Rainbow, a ride which is now dismantled, and I think of now with great fondness.
We paid for our tickets, and I wondered if I was tall enough for the roller coasters. My aunt assured me that I was in fact tall enough. We entered the park, my excitement barely contained. We walked past gift shops, and candy stores. A park employee asked us if we wanted a group picture. We all stood together and smiled. After the picture was taken, my Aunt showed me a large bronze statue of a warthog. She said if I got lost, I was to return to that statue because we would meet there; thankfully I never got lost.
Having decided that we would go on The Rainbow first, my uncle and I made our way to the ride. In it's heyday, it was a lovely sky blue, with two heavenly looking female statues on each side of the audience style seats. Behind the seats there was a great rainbow of lights. At night it would light up beautifully.
There wasn't much of a line for the ride, and we got seated in the back, right next to one of the statues, on the left. My uncle and I sat together, while my cousin sat by herself; the ride director asked us to raise our arms. In my naivety, I thought we were doing it to show our excitement. But it was only so the protective lap bar could lower itself, if you didn't raise your arms, they'd be stuck under the steel bar.
The ride started, lifting itself into air. This is pretty much all the ride does, is move up and down, as if drawing a half-circle. The first time it lifted, I thought it would hit the building next to the ride. Considering the fact that a corner of that building was dented and smashed, my fear was not irrational. I was horribly nervous. The next time it rose into the air, the ride went higher than the nearby Aspen tree, which stood a good thirty or fifty feet. This was, as you can imagine, my cue to start screaming. I hadn't realized before, just how afraid of heights I was! I was terrified! I gripped the lap bar and screamed as the ride rose and fell, my stomach dropping. Six years later, I would learn to enjoy this ride, but at the tender age of ten, I was rather traumatized.
The ride ended. As we exited, I commented to the ride director, that The Rainbow must look beautiful all lit up. He told me that I should see it later, at night. I said I would, but I never did.
The Rainbow was my first grown-up ride, before that I'd only been on merry-go-rounds, baby roller coasters (the mini ones that often look like dragons or caterpillars), and giant slides. I came away from this initiation shaken, but eager for more. Indeed, I would get more than I bargained for, when I would ride the Boomerang, which you'll hear about in my next installment!
Part 1: The Creme de la Creme of All Summer Trips
It happened the summer I was 10, my family was living on West Allen Street in Winooski, Vermont and planning on moving to New York. In between all this chaos, I still managed to swim, play and enjoy myself. That summer I had been to camp, (which had been a traumatizing experience) and attended a gamut of cook-outs. But all our neighbors were going to The Great Escape, and had been for years, and I was quite jealous. My sisters had been before as well, and that too had me filled with envy.
So you can imagine my surprise and delight, when I was given the chance to go to the fabled park. It had started when my mother answered a seemingly mundane call from my Aunt Elizabeth. My aunt spent plenty of time with me in those days, taking me on various trips and adventures. When she married my Uncle Russell, this did not change, he joined in on the fun. All that summer, the two of them took my sisters and I on swimming trips and the like, and now they were taking my sister, Katie and I on the creme de la creme of all summer trips!
My mother turned to me, still on the phone and asked if I wanted to go to The Great Escape with my aunt. She didn't even need to ask! Eagerly, I said yes, and ran outside to tell all my redneck neighbors. They took my news with good humor, though one of them, a Mr. Peter Parker, told me there was a ride that flung you straight in the air and if it hit the water it was a water ride. If not, well you were dead. At the time, I was a gullible little guppy and believed him, much to the amusement of all the hicks.
That night, my Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Russell came for my sister Katie and I. They took us to their apartment located in The Old North End of Burlington. We would stay there for the night, in order to get a bright start that morning. I had packed some clothes, my aqua green and yellow plaid swimsuit, my teddy bear and my ADD medication. I remember being wonderfully excited for the next day!
When we arrived at the small apartment, my aunt and I walked her dog, Cody, whose ears I had chewed on in my infancy. She's no longer with us, but I remember her very well. She was a patient and loving dog, who used to let my uncle wrap ace bandages around her head. He had also made signs for her kennel that said: "Anthrax Victim" and "POW".
After we went inside, I played with my aunt's paper dolls. She had Movie Monster Paperdolls and a set of little boys and girls in clothes from the 1920's. My fourteen-year-old sister played video games. While we amused ourselves, my aunt made the sleeping arrangements, she and I would share her bed, my sister would have the futon couch and my uncle would take the floor.
That night, I couldn't sleep because I was too excited. I tossed and turned and rolled about, before finally falling asleep. I had strange dreams. When we woke up, my Aunt, Uncle and I compared our dreams. Then we had breakfast.
After getting dressed (I vaguely recall wearing a pair of navy blue jersey shorts I favored, and a red t-shirt) and packing up the car, we set off for Lake George.
Along with Aunt Elizabeth, Uncle Russell, Katie and I, we would be accompanied by my Aunt Amy, my cousin Gabrielle (her daughter) and my cousin Ethan (my Aunt Michelle's son). I hadn't seen either Aunt Amy or Cousin Gabrielle in some time, nor did I communicate with them very much, so it was kind of exciting.
The ride was long and to a ten-year-old girl, rather boring; I sat behind the driver's seat, and spent most of my time looking out the window. I remember seeing a sign for Fort Anne and I remember seeing a few motels. We played my sister's Rob Zombie tape, it was Hellbilly Deluxe. Some of it was a little disturbing for me, but I did enjoy a few of the songs.
We took several bathroom breaks, and on one of them we met up with my Aunt Amy and my cousins. Aunt Elizabeth gave me some Dramamine that was dark pink and tasted slightly of raspberry. After, I noticed a castle in the mountains. A castle! My aunt told me it was a restaurant, and that she stopped there to use the bathroom once. I learned later, that it was reputedly haunted; it had been a mansion, and a woman had been murdered there.
We drove through Lake George and oh, did my eyes widen at the sights! I saw a pirate-themed miniature golf course, the biggest mini-golf course I had ever seen. I saw so many fantastic things, most of which I can not recall, but know they were amazing.
Soon enough, the park came into view, surrounded by mountains and trees. How exciting it was, to see the Great Escape billboard, plastered on to the side of the log flume ride! Even now, I can feel it, that childish flush of excitement in my chest and belly, the urge to start screaming and running in circles. I felt such an excited sense of wonder, one I still feel from time to time whenever I go on a fun trip.
We parked across the road from the park. We met up with Aunt Amy and the cousins, and went to get in the admission line. I was so excited, looking forward to my first amusement park trip. I remember holding my Aunt's hand as we crossed the street. This was before they had installed the pedestrian bridge that spanned over the busy traffic, so crossing the street was a harrowing experience.
As we waited in line to buy our tickets, I looked with wide eyes at the different rides. I saw a large steel roller coaster, The Steamin' Demon and two other thrill rides, The Rainbow and The Condor. I asked my uncle which we should go on first. He picked The Rainbow, a ride which is now dismantled, and I think of now with great fondness.
We paid for our tickets, and I wondered if I was tall enough for the roller coasters. My aunt assured me that I was in fact tall enough. We entered the park, my excitement barely contained. We walked past gift shops, and candy stores. A park employee asked us if we wanted a group picture. We all stood together and smiled. After the picture was taken, my Aunt showed me a large bronze statue of a warthog. She said if I got lost, I was to return to that statue because we would meet there; thankfully I never got lost.
Having decided that we would go on The Rainbow first, my uncle and I made our way to the ride. In it's heyday, it was a lovely sky blue, with two heavenly looking female statues on each side of the audience style seats. Behind the seats there was a great rainbow of lights. At night it would light up beautifully.
There wasn't much of a line for the ride, and we got seated in the back, right next to one of the statues, on the left. My uncle and I sat together, while my cousin sat by herself; the ride director asked us to raise our arms. In my naivety, I thought we were doing it to show our excitement. But it was only so the protective lap bar could lower itself, if you didn't raise your arms, they'd be stuck under the steel bar.
The ride started, lifting itself into air. This is pretty much all the ride does, is move up and down, as if drawing a half-circle. The first time it lifted, I thought it would hit the building next to the ride. Considering the fact that a corner of that building was dented and smashed, my fear was not irrational. I was horribly nervous. The next time it rose into the air, the ride went higher than the nearby Aspen tree, which stood a good thirty or fifty feet. This was, as you can imagine, my cue to start screaming. I hadn't realized before, just how afraid of heights I was! I was terrified! I gripped the lap bar and screamed as the ride rose and fell, my stomach dropping. Six years later, I would learn to enjoy this ride, but at the tender age of ten, I was rather traumatized.
The ride ended. As we exited, I commented to the ride director, that The Rainbow must look beautiful all lit up. He told me that I should see it later, at night. I said I would, but I never did.
The Rainbow was my first grown-up ride, before that I'd only been on merry-go-rounds, baby roller coasters (the mini ones that often look like dragons or caterpillars), and giant slides. I came away from this initiation shaken, but eager for more. Indeed, I would get more than I bargained for, when I would ride the Boomerang, which you'll hear about in my next installment!
Friday, April 17, 2009
Back to normal blogging
After that lengthy memoir, which I'm sure none of you read, I'm quite pleased to return to my old method of blogging. But with a new feature- The Image Macro of the Day!
I'm not writing this blog for anyone's pleasure but mine. Here, I can rant, share memoirs and hone my writing skills. If someone comes across it and enjoys my work, that's fine, it will give me some small joy in my life.
So many people write solely for page views and drama. But I write for the joy of it. My mind is filled with many tumbling and rumbling thoughts, dancing in my skull. Yet my memory is like sieve. Often I will lose these great thoughts, in that great river made of lost memories and ideas. I must harness these thoughts by blogging them, a reservoir of sorts.
I want to become a better writer. I want my ideas to come across clearly. I want to write stories that make people think, that make people feel. I want to write things that are beautiful and disturbing, I want people to question their world after reading my books. I am greatly inspired by Stephen King.
I have other life goals. One of which is to visit every single known cemetery in the state of Vermont. So far, I've been to five of the cemeteries in Bellow's Falls, one in Burlington, one in Bristol, one in Swanton, one in Windsor, one in Lyndonville and one in Bennington. I just noticed three out of six of these towns begin with the letter B. The ones in Bristol and Burlington, I visited as a child. The rest I have visited in my teens, with the exception of Bennington. I visited that one the day before my birthday, thus making it the first cemetery I visited on the cusp of my twenties.
That's right, I suppose I'm in my early twenties now. I turned 20 last Tuesday. Most people my age look to this as a time of great change. Not so, with I. I felt the last of my childhood slip from my fingers, on April the 14th. The days of innocence and freedom from logic are forever locked in the archives of memory, only taken out to be mused upon, never to be relived. I am no longer a child, not even close, I am a woman now. A woman, what do you suppose that means? What does in mean to be a woman? Women are the bearers of life, but not all women bear children, women are the owners of wisdom, but not all women are wise. To be a woman is a complicated quilt. We dance the complex dance between weakness and strength, domination and submission. To some we are considered helpless, to others we are considered tyrants.
Women cannot be categorized. Everyone has tried to put women into neat little categories, but like cats, we cannot stay in one place for too long.
You may notice that I leap from subject to subject, like crossing a river by jumping rock to rock. Free writing is a favored method of mine.
Macro of the Day:
I'm not writing this blog for anyone's pleasure but mine. Here, I can rant, share memoirs and hone my writing skills. If someone comes across it and enjoys my work, that's fine, it will give me some small joy in my life.
So many people write solely for page views and drama. But I write for the joy of it. My mind is filled with many tumbling and rumbling thoughts, dancing in my skull. Yet my memory is like sieve. Often I will lose these great thoughts, in that great river made of lost memories and ideas. I must harness these thoughts by blogging them, a reservoir of sorts.
I want to become a better writer. I want my ideas to come across clearly. I want to write stories that make people think, that make people feel. I want to write things that are beautiful and disturbing, I want people to question their world after reading my books. I am greatly inspired by Stephen King.
I have other life goals. One of which is to visit every single known cemetery in the state of Vermont. So far, I've been to five of the cemeteries in Bellow's Falls, one in Burlington, one in Bristol, one in Swanton, one in Windsor, one in Lyndonville and one in Bennington. I just noticed three out of six of these towns begin with the letter B. The ones in Bristol and Burlington, I visited as a child. The rest I have visited in my teens, with the exception of Bennington. I visited that one the day before my birthday, thus making it the first cemetery I visited on the cusp of my twenties.
That's right, I suppose I'm in my early twenties now. I turned 20 last Tuesday. Most people my age look to this as a time of great change. Not so, with I. I felt the last of my childhood slip from my fingers, on April the 14th. The days of innocence and freedom from logic are forever locked in the archives of memory, only taken out to be mused upon, never to be relived. I am no longer a child, not even close, I am a woman now. A woman, what do you suppose that means? What does in mean to be a woman? Women are the bearers of life, but not all women bear children, women are the owners of wisdom, but not all women are wise. To be a woman is a complicated quilt. We dance the complex dance between weakness and strength, domination and submission. To some we are considered helpless, to others we are considered tyrants.
Women cannot be categorized. Everyone has tried to put women into neat little categories, but like cats, we cannot stay in one place for too long.
You may notice that I leap from subject to subject, like crossing a river by jumping rock to rock. Free writing is a favored method of mine.
Macro of the Day:
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