The frosty brisk winter weather has me dreaming about what I'd be doing today, if this was the summer season. Imaginably, I would have plans to scoot on out to the boardwalk, or an amusement park. Waiting in line for a rickety wooden roller coaster, maybe a water ride with cars in the shape of logs (log flume), or the carousel? That's the breaks. The carousel is one creepy ride- the drowning organ music that plays in a loop on repeat, the horse head’s and haunting fun house mirrors plastered to the walls. I must say, I can’t really recall a time when I was authentically thrilled to be on the carousel. A phony joy waving to mom and dad, as you completed a 360 for the seventh time. Don’t forget to wear your lassoed rope seat belt kids, and hang on the brass stick pulsed out of your horse’s back!
How is that every time you go to an amusement park, you end up going on a ride against your will? It's ride-rape. The only other option is to sit on the bench by yourself, or even worse, sharing the bench with a lonely elder person, and you think to yourself “is that what my life will become in fifty years, my children and grandchildren blowing me off leaving me by myself, all for their sick pleasure?” Everyone in your little amusement park group is just tickled to go on the ride, as you're like "nice, yeah- I'll contribute to gaining varicose veins in my tired legs, waiting in line for a ride with plastic horses working on a pulley system". Oh, you don’t think that? Sorry, maybe that’s just me; however, you are with people who you generally care about, and the agreement to attend, is kind of a silent agreement of “hey, let’s not complain today”.
When hunger kicks in, how is it that in a group setting, you almost always end up eating lunch at someplace called “Granny’s Chicken”? “Hmmm, let’s see, I’m at an amusement park, I’m hungry, hot, tired, and thirsty. What- what am I craving… YES GRANNY’s CHICKEN! The hot, greasy grade D chicken, and powder mashed potatoes will just hit the spot! Believe me, that is the ultimate thing I crave when walking around for six hours straight in the beaming sun with SPF 85 dripping down my back, as with other people’s SPF dripping down your back.
How about when you go on a much anticipated roller-coaster, you know, the kind that has signs bragging about how many corkscrews, double loops, camel backs, swoop-turns, and fastest speed. You wait three hours in line, while getting scolded by the rent-a-cop security guard for sitting on the handrails in the queue line, you finally get to the part where you get buckled in (unless if the assholes with the “fastpass” or "hopperpass" takes your seat) and you have to deal with the horrible belt checker who touches you purposely inappropriately as they slam the lap bar down and the ride “VJ” who reads off of a lawsuit prevention monologue script in front of them over a loudspeaker with clogged speakers “thank you for riding the (insert ride name) keep hands inside, no smoking, eating, or evaporating on this ride, have a safe trip, make it a great day, and I’m not sure if “crowd work” is in the script, but they are certainly good at bringing the obnoxious “let’s get crunked” out of everyone. “You guys ready for the ride??!!” “YEAHHHHHHHHHhhh, fuck yeahhh, NOOO HANDSSSS!!!” Saying all of this while holding “rock on” symbols with their middle and index finger tucked harshly over the thumbs. As I think to myself, no, I just went through this whole ordeal to sit in this greasy leg divider seat, so I could have this bright neon colored harness suppress the air out of my chest. The keg crowd does not only work on cue, but continues to increase the sound frequency as the speed increases of the coaster all throughout walking out to the exit, and even then- still gradually decreasing and dispersing throughout the park, the rapid raving continues.
There’s always that one person that doesn’t want to leave. You have to bargain them, one more ride? No, how about three. Two? Well, okay.
I would say the most victorious moment is when you breeze by the last turnstile counter, get your car door unlocked, shower the international population sweat off of your opened pores, put on fresh cozy clothes, get a respectable bite to eat, plunk on the couch, watch some TV re-runs, and say to self “ahh it is good to be home”.
No comments:
Post a Comment