The problem with being young at heart, is that sometimes your body doesn’t get the message about your actual age. I know that people say that you are only as old as you feel. This morning I felt 21 and this evening I am rubbing in Gold Bond Therapeutic Foot Cream and drinking a hot cup of ginger tea. The mind and body are at odds. This is a really tough age. Forget being a teenager with all the angst and drama. Being a fortyager is hard (please see the post where I fell from a very low height). You’re not a cool twenty-something bouncing back from roller coaster whiplash and 20,000 steps with minimal hydration, and not yet a senior citizen (even if I have received more than two mailings from AARP), sitting out and guarding the snacks while the rest of the family enjoys a day of thrills. After spending the entire day in Busch Gardens, I am asking myself, “What will hurt tomorrow?” and “How did I get that bruise?” I don’t even know how I got to this point. I did, indeed, bring a fanny pack of single serve snacks and a Ziplock bag of Advil, and darn it, I was glad for both of those things.
Leading up to our big day, I reminded myself to take it easy. I’m about four-weeks post surgery and feeling really good, but I didn’t want to set myself back. I prepped with extra ice under my arm and made sure to prop it up on my special pillow while sleeping. I thought I would just hang with Rob, who is not taking any chances with high-speed rides after his stroke two years ago. I didn’t plan on riding a single roller-coaster, but ended up on a few after all. I was the only one of our crew who had been to Busch Gardens, and that trip was 40 years ago. To say my memories were sketchy is generous.
The park is organized into different countries, with the rides and restaurants aligned with the theme of the country: Italy, England, Germany, Scotland, France, Ireland. Crowds were mercifully light during our visit, so we didn’t wait too long for any one attraction. We broke off into two groups and made our way around the park, stopping to check out the animal exhibits – lorikeets, bald eagles, gray wolves, Scottish Highland Cattle, and hopping on and off rides. I think this may have been the most relaxing trip to a theme park EVER! No plan, no checklist, no expectations!
Busch Gardens has around ten big roller coasters. The two oldest are “The Loch Ness Monster” and “The Big Bad Wolf,” (currently under renovation) both of which were innovative and cutting edge coasters back in the 1980s. They are both still there, “The Loch Ness Monster” is a bit of a relic these days – I would compare it to “Space Mountain” at the Magic Kingdom – a nostalgic ride, like the grandparent of thrill rides—still kicking, still wild, but definitely showing its age. The bright yellow cars clank up the first hill with a dramatic rattle that sounds like it’s held together by memories and rust. The cars creak and jerk as if they’re protesting every foot of the climb.. Then suddenly—bam!—you’re whipped over the edge and slammed into a turn that feels more like a chiropractic adjustment than a thrill ride. Every dip and curve jolts your spine, rattling your head like a bobblehead in a windstorm. We left with new appreciation for the sturdiness of the harness. Classic? Yes. Smooth? Absolutely not. I’m all set for another 40 years.
At some point in the early afternoon, we all met up and Kai suggested we all hop on a ride together – a really sweet idea for a 16-year old boy. The ride he suggested was called the Roman Rapids, a six-person raft ride where you go through some twists and turns and you may or may not get totally soaked. Now, normally, I’m not a holdout on a water ride. On an 80-degree day, I’m all in -100%. But at 63 degrees and breezy, I hesitated. Seeing Kai’s disappointment, and checking out the riders disembarking the Roman Rapids – only about one in ten was drenched – I reluctantly agreed. We had no ponchos, no extra clothes, no waterproof pouches, just the sweatshirts on our bodies. At first, the ride was gentle. There was a small dip and some light splashing, but it quickly escalated, sending a wall of water over the side and right on top of Marlie. After a few more twists and turns, Marlie got pummeled again – I mean, completely and utterly drenched. Kai and Jools took a couple of hits. I thought that given the cooler temperatures, the water cannons surely would not be turned on. Wrong. Alyssa, Rob, and I couldn’t escape, rounding out the soaking of our entire tube of people. Even after we took a spin in the giant family dryer, it was absolutely no use for Marlie. Her sweatshirt was so saturated, we had to wring it out onto the ground. No amount of holding it near the hand dryers would help.
Everyone has their opinion on theme parks, but we have had some of our best bonding experiences in theme parks. Sure, they’re loud. They’re chaotic. They sell churros that cost $12. Someone’s always hungry. No one can agree on the next ride. But then something happens—you’re all screaming together on a raft ride in 60-degree weather, laughing at the on-ride photo, or holding up your socks in the people dryer—and suddenly, you’re not just a group. You’re a unit. A team. Because nothing says bonding like surviving a 90-minute wait for a 90-second ride with someone who wasn’t in your life eight years ago but now knows exactly how you flap your hands at the top of the first drop of a roller coaster. And that is what makes the experience worth it.
Wandering, But Not Lost 