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Friday, Jul. 19, 2002 - 2:56 p.m.

Come along, come along

NOTE: This is the fourth installment of God knows how many installments in the account of my trip. To start at the beginning, go here.

Whenever I�d go to Six Flags Great Adventure in New Jersey, I�d always marvel at how such a huge, popular amusement park could be less than an hour from home. It�s on a par with Disneyland and Busch Gardens, both of which involve intricate plans and hotel reservations to visit. But Great Adventure � as we call it here, though everyone else everywhere else in America calls the parks �Six Flags� � is an easy drive from where I grew up.

Approaching Great Adventure, you�re on a two-lane county road (or at least you were; they�ve made improvements near the entrance, including adding a Burger King next to the McDonald�s and sprucing up the Wawa convenience store and gas station) and the park entrance is marked with a big sign. Only you see nothing of the vast parking lot and sky-scraping roller coasters. It�s all pine trees, and they do a good job of disgusing the park. You enter along a road, reach the parking admission gate (and begin to lighten your wallet), then wind along some more until you come out into the parking lot, which is a vast sea of asphalt, with the park spread out there in front of you. Of course, then you have to spend 40 more bucks to get in (the newer water park and drive-through Safari not included in that price) and deal with crowds and bratty kids and long lines at the rides.

And then there�s Idlewild. America�s third-oldest amusement park (back in the day it was simply a park with a train station and a carousel, if I remember my Idlewild history lesson accurately), it�s similar to Great Adventure in that it�s tucked away among the trees in a rural south-centralish (more west) section of an Eastern state. But the similarities end there � all to Idlewild�s benefit.

You enter Idlewild from a four-lane rural highway divided by trees so that the two lanes in either direction do not face oncoming cars. You drive through the trees and pull up to the parking booths and pay 20 bucks. For everything. (Except maybe Soak Zone?) Parking and admission are 20 bucks. Once inside, you�re free to roam because, at least on this sixth of July Saturday, the crowds were elsewhere. The park was healthily bustling, but there were no unbearable lines in which we were forced to wait. The worst would�ve been the one for the french fries, because although there are only four people in front of you, you�re standing there waiting for your fries while everyone else is getting yours. And you can see them right in front of you! It�s torture, really.

After a tour of the parking lot, Casey parks the car � my car, her first day of driving the big, bad Grand Am � in the shade and we begin in Storybook Forest. It�s a walk-through visit to sites and characters from all kinds of children�s stories and fairy tales. We see Mother Goose and her puppet goose (we were hoping for a real live one), Snow White, the Good Ship Lollipop, and all kinds of various storybook characters. Out on a dock on the lake a model of Huck Finn relaxes in the sun, hat down over his eyes, fishing line dipped in the water.

There are several live animal exhibits, too, though the troll under the bridge is now deceased. But there are goats and chickens and pigs and Peter Rabbit and friends � whose cage displays the warning BUNNIES CAN BITE, so we take heed.

The walk through the forest churned up our appetites, so we purchase the aforementioned fries and find a picnic table in the food court � a covered deck near the park�s railroad line. There � unless it was earlier � we decide to keep a tally of how many children we see throwing hissy fits. Babies who do not know any better don�t count; we�re only considering the school-age children who know that if they don�t get what they want, they can usually wail about it until their parents give in. The kids were rather well-behaved, though, because by the end of the day, the count is a mere three.

After eating, we board the train for the easily walkable trip across the creek to visit Mr. Rogers� Neighborhood of Make-Believe or whatever the attraction is called. It�s a trolley ride (yes, the trolley) through a section of forest containing animatronic displays of the Land of Make-Believe�s famous denizens.

As we board the trolley � I suppose it�s Trolley � one of the park employees informs us that it�s Nicole�s first day. She�ll be our Trolley driver. Casey and I are in the front seat along with two slightly older guys whose wives and kids are in the two rows behind us. Our journey begins with Trolley backing up (�Because that�s how it says hello and goodbye,� the first employee reminds us.) and heading through the tunnel into the Land of Make-Believe. First stop is the Castle, where King Friday comes out to invite us to the Castle Hug and Song. It will be our job to invite all the other residents of the Land of Make-Believe. To do so, we must chant, �Come along, come along/To the Castle Hug and Song� at each stop. Nicole makes sure of this, reciting her memorized script at each stop.

The whole ride was conceived in conjuction with Fred Rogers, who wrote the script and recorded the voices, so when King Friday speaks, it�s Fred Rogers coming to you on Memorex. I remark to Casey how King Friday has a superiority complex. He emerges from the Castle and ends his greeting with his trademark �I presume.� Nicole replies, �Correct as usual, King Friday.� What is that? The puppet�s king, why does everyone have to stroke his ego by telling him he�s right yet again every time? I�m glad I don�t work there.

So we moved on from the Castle, visiting the cat-faced rocking-chair maker (who�s sensor fails him, so he never talks to us; he just stands there rocking his chair while we invite him to the Hug and Song); Lady Elaine, the lesbian tennis player of the Land of Make-Believe; the Platypuses; shy Daniel Striped Tiger; and that owl dude and the pussy cat who live in the tree. Sorry for forgetting the names, the order, and perhaps even a stop, but it�s been a few years since I watched the show regularly.

It all comes around to a second Castle setting, this time in the courtyard, where all the characters have �come� for the Hug and Song. Lady Elaine, the bitch, is late, making a grand entrance just as we�re about to sing. But before we sing, we hug; we�re invited to hug anyone we�d like in the Trolley, so Casey and I comply. One of the guys next to us pats the other heartily on the shoulder.

And that�s where I miss the first of two prime opportunities on the trip. It�s one of those moments where you have a split second to conceive a plan and carry it out, and I came up with it a second too late. I should�ve stood up and hugged Nicole. It would�ve made her day � her first day � and it would�ve made the entire Trolley laugh. It would�ve made everyone in the Land of Make-Believe laugh � except maybe Lady Elaine, the wench. But I don�t, and it�s one of only two regrets I have the entire trip. I don�t even remember what the second is right now. And the opportunity is quickly gone, because those robotic puppets start the Song part of the Hug and Song �

It's such a good feeling to know you're alive.
It's such a happy feeling: You're growing inside.
And when you wake up ready to say,
"I think I'll make a snappy new day."
It's such a good feeling, a very good feeling,
The feeling you know that we're friends.

Of course, they never told us what the song was going to be, but maybe I�m just not perceptive enough to have figured it out. But Nicole�s right there, rockin� the mic, leading us all in song. I remember most of the words, but I merely mumble them out the side of the Trolley, away from anyone�s ears.

After the song, it�s back through another tunnel and to the dropoff point, where we boarded, and into reality again.

Or something close to it. Casey and I wait in a short line for the Spider ride, one of those round-and-round, up-and-down spinning rides. She wants to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl (or whatever they call it there), but there�s nobody on it and she doesn�t want to be the only ones. Unfortunately � and this is my fault � I get suckered into buying a giant snowcone, basically it�s a pint-size plastic cup filled with ice and drenched in sweet, sugary flavor syrup. I choose grape, but because I have too much and Casey helps little, I feel sick and decide a ride on the Tilt-A-Whirl would not be prudent.

So we look at the 125th anniversary exhibit in the tiny railroad station (at one time it was a real, working station on a real-world train line, but the train stopped coming to the park in the 40s or 50s) and walk back to the middle of the park and visit the children�s play area where we shoot across a wire on the �Tarzan swing,� a thick rope tied to a wheel that rides along the cable. It�s fun, but way too modern for Tarzan.

Finished with the park, we get back in the car and drive back to Johnstown, where we almost go swimming at Carol�s parents� house. But instead we stop at Dairy Queen for a Blizzard (me, with Nestle Crunch) and a peanut butter sundae (Casey) and decide instead to go back to the house. It�s the closest we come to swimming, though we�ll tote a bag with our suits and towels in it all the way to Chicago and back.

Back at the house, Bassett is there having come from work and I � the tired Striped Tiger � take a nap while the girls help get things ready for the Hug and Song. Er � I mean, for the party that night.

And then we get drunk.

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