I know, that's totally un-American, right? We want our presidents to have nerves of steel, yet I am asking you to cast your vote for a man who skips the log flume that "looks a little steep." Not exactly Teddy Roosevelt and the Rough Riders material. The truth is, I really don't enjoy amusement park RIDES. Mostly because they are associated with terrifying concepts like "upside down" and "shoulder restraints." I hate the feeling when the bottom drops out and your stomach launches itself into your throat. You know, the feeling you get on every big ride? I understand that feeling puts the "thrill" in thrill rides for coaster enthusiasts, but it is not for me. I get motion sickness on a playground swing. Driving on hilly roads sometimes sends my tummy twirling. IF I want to turn green, I'll hit up the greasy chocolate fountain at the end of the Golden Corral buffet. With two feet planted firmly on the ground.
Even if I was inclined to test the endurance of my digestion system, I'm frightened of the physics of these rides. I am not fooled by the quaint names coasters are given. The parks try to lure me in with gentle names like the Himalayan Hike or Firecracker because they know no one would ride something called the Free Falling Neck Whipper or Twisty Murder Machine. (Actually, I know people who probably would ride the Twisty Murder Machine.) I don't want to be on the Pirate Ship the day it goes flying off its arm on the downswing. I don't particularly want to be in the middle of a loopty-loo when the decades-old lap bar disengages. I'm afraid to be in the Gondola car when it figures out that nothing but magic and a little spit is keeping it balanced on the thin steel cable. I'd much rather watch these incidents unfold from the safety of the monorail. On our recent trip to Hersheypark, I did actually ride a few simple rides, including the Kissing Tower. I suggested to park officials they may want to consider putting "Kissing" in front of all their big ride names because there is a chance you can kiss your ass goodbye every time you board one. They were not amused.
Another reason theme parks are not my ideal pastime is the cost. For me, they are often a waste of money and time. For the $75 admission, the girls get thrills and memories for a lifetime. I get the opportunity to purchase an $8 slice of rubbery pizza and sit in the Splash Zone! to watch marine biology dropouts toss fish at an elderly sea lion until he waves his flipper at the crowd. My money would be better spent paying a homeless man outside the park to share his bus stop bench for the day. After all, I spend the bulk of my visit (by choice, obviously) sitting around. Sometimes I make myself useful by watching the kids that pass on a big ride. I'm also a damn fine purse holder. But mostly I sit and I wait. And as Tom Petty said, "the waiting is the hardest part." Which is perhaps what I find most stupefying about theme parks. Are the coasters really worth an hour in line? Isn't it disappointing to wait all that time for two minutes of action? (I guess I could ask my poor wife. BA-DUM-TISH! Hey, if I didn't say it, one of you dear readers would have. Self-deprecation is the best defense.)
I know what you are all thinking: How could I possibly vote for this ninny? Rest assured, if elected, I will not do anything drastic like shutter all theme parks. At worst, I'll issue some sort of decree sending my family to the front of the line. Heck,
No comments:
Post a Comment