Yesterday I had the privilege to participate in one of America's favorite pastimes; a day at the amusement park. I hadn't realized just how strange and surreal amusement parks were before going as a 23-year-old. And if you haven't gone since that middle-school field-trip where you frenched Johnny behind the cotton candy-machine, I suggest you read this before attempting another go-around as an adult.First, smoking has been drastically reduced. Not only are there designated smoking areas, but these areas are not the cool/gross fish-tank fume ovens that can be found in Dulles airport, these smoking areas are merely sad benches with blue paint rectangled around them, containing haggard tourists spitting phlegm at your feet. My suggestion: bring your own paint and wear a raincoat.
Then there's this whole FlashPass business, a $20 rip off that you can purchase in order to jump ahead in line. This may actually be worth it mind you because the average wait-time on a Tuesday is an hour per ride. I can only imagine what the weekend wait-time is. So as you sit in the infinite snaking lines where there is no smoking, profanity, or drinking, you watch these rich SOBS literally run to the front of the line, dropping cash out of their designer slack pockets on the way. It's quite unnerving and wildly unjust. Bring a schizophrenic friend to entertain you, because the hour and half line will not be 'worth it' after the 45 second ride (yes, even if the ride is equipped with hot flames.)
Speaking of hot flames...new rides boast EXTREMENESS. The X2, which we were told was the "best ride in the park" by a buck-toothed beaver-looking employee, ended up being a 2 and a half hour wait for a ride in which you actually thought you might die. Not in the fun I-kind-of-want-to-test-fate way, but in the -wait-they-spend-so-much-damn-time-trying-to-make-these- rides-look-cool-that-they-may-have-overlooked-safety- kind of fear. Yes, there were smoke and flames and mist, but it ended promptly after I prayed that I get off this ride before it kills me (though I could hardly hear my own life-pleas over the horrible Guns-N-Roses remix blasting from the "cool new speakers for an Xtreme sound experience!") I think the ride was actually 15 seconds. And as it ended, I wondered if it had, in fact, happened at all. The X2 should be called the FUCK YOU! for actually waiting 2 hours to ride it.
Also, the rides have gotten strangely sexual. By this, I mean that the positions people are put in to enjoy a little thrill are very, how do I say, explicit. This one ride, the Tatsu, actually puts people in the doggy-style position and while I enjoyed the ride, I had this sinking feeling that perhaps I was about to endure more of a thrill than I'd signed up for. Another ride had you flat on your back, with your legs splayed out spread-eagle style. For the secret exhibitionist: wear a dress? For everyone else: bring Mace and for the love of GOD wear shorts (see previous blog Shorts Are Scary for more info about the proper use of this garment.)
Also, everyone who works at an amusement park looks like a creature from the Amphibian exhibit at the San Diego Zoo. And the carnie dialect, I have learned, is quite possibly, more difficult to decipher than Greek. Also, fanny packs seem to be a requirement. What else...oh yeah, make sure you buy a cape, T-shirt, bottle-opener, jock-strap, etc. sporting the name of your favorite ride, it's all the rage. And Funnel cakes, it turns out are a rare delicacy--get yours early quick because it will be the longest line you stand in. There's nothing like the deep-fried, sugar-coated, fat ride to make you feel like a true American. Awk-on.
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