We just got back from a week in the sunshine state and though the holiday was fantastic, a long-hidden belief of mine was affirmed: theme parks are evil. To celebate my hatred of all things chaotic, overpriced and soulless, we decided to spend our last day of vacation at a popular theme park (Hint: Walt Disney is the devil).
Let’s backtrack. I spent a week at Disney when our boys were younger. I
overdosed on Day 3 didn’t enjoy it. I am terrified of rides. I have been known to stab people get fidgety in line ups and I hate paying $25 for a hot dog. I hate hot dogs too. However, since then I’ve become more patient and adventurous. #noihaven’t.
So, in a selfless act, I put on my big girl thong and led my clan to
our demise the park’s gate. I ignored the hoardes of people rushing past us..in the other direction. As if a monsoon thunder, lightning and heavy rains were going to deter us. I also ignored the fact that Teen 1’s university fund was gone with the ticket taker’s words: “Give me every penny you’ve ever made and your projected earnings for the next 10 years.” So what if the day was half over and there was no discount and there was a monsoon and no one was really crazy about the idea. Nothing was going to stop us.
After being drenched to the vein, the sun poked through. Suddenly,I felt
wet peaceful. A tingle rippled through me as I soaked in the excitement. This was going to be fun, I decided. The boys wanted to go on a simulator and I cheerily agreed to wait for them. The wait time on the sign was 30 minutes. After 60 minutes and 4 beers a cold beer, I got a bit cranky. I noticed it was happening to others too; I felt a kinship with a disgruntled toddler as I watched her smack her father in the face. Finally the boys arrived and when they said, “We waited for over an hour and they closed the ride. We didn’t get on” I smacked that father in the face too.
We trudged to the other side of the park, hoping for
more beer a thrilling ride. I waited for them again as they tried out a coaster. The exact moment (65 minutes later) they emerged, a spontaneous parade erupted. One minute I’m trying to cross the street to get to my family and the next minute I’m pounding the living daylights out of Tinkerbell. The things I do in the name of vacation..
The guys were happy with the ride and wanted to go again. I hated to be a killjoy and in hindsight I shouldn’t have said, “This is no fun for me. My feet hurt. I’d rather be dead than here.” Teen 2 reminded me that I always tell them not to complain and that I should try to enjoy it. Hmmph. Who asked him?
At $50/ride (the park was about to close..2 rides each), I decided to
file for divorce join them on one. I mustered some forced excitement and joined the queue. It took 90 minutes to get to the end of it but there was always something to see: a natural birth, a C-section and and 2 boredom-related deaths. As the claustrophic tunnel of death made me lightheaded, by mistake I blurted: “Are we going to the ovens or what??? I want the truth!!”
FINALLY we got on the ride. Are you sitting down? I LOVED it. While safely belted into a barely moving simulator, transformers attacked me, a missile exploded centimeters from my face, and I gave silent thanks for Depends. As I raced to the front of the line again I heard the words: “The park is now closing. Thank you for the piece of your soul you will never get back. Please come again.” So THAT’S how it’s done.. create one ride so profound you don’t notice the $25 hot dog is made of wood chips. You don’t notice your VISA is smoldering. You don’t notice you’re single and all alone in the world screaming: “One more
hit ride and I swear it’s the last time.” See you in hell, Mr. Disney.