Commentary: Theme parks haven’t changed much but my center of gravity has
We’re never too old to stop learning. About stuff, about life, about ourselves.
If you’ve been to Disneyland recently, and you saw a prematurely old lady being hauled out of a boat from the Pirates of the Caribbean ride by two burley men and a forklift, that might have been me.
It’s been 20 years since I was last at Disneyland. The park hasn’t changed much — except for adding a phenomenal light show — so why did I change so much?
Oh, the aching muscles and stiff joints! (Oh, the shift in location of my center of gravity!) Oh, the distances between two points! Oh, the exhaustion!
In fairness, it’s not all Disneyland’s fault.
It’s Universal Studios’ fault too.
Son Mark and I just returned from what the travel-challenged call a “stay-cation” — five days of sensory overload at theme parks and movie studios.
I changed out hearing aid batteries twice. I thought I’d bought a faulty package of 312s until I realized the self-adjusting aids had been compensating for the clackety tracks, the blaring music, the joyous screams of revelers.
Before Lee died, he told Mark, “If your mother wants to go somewhere, go with her.”
I am sorry my son’s wife divorced him. Nevertheless, I am grateful to her. Mark’s liberation allows him to honor Lee’s request — and my travel wishes.
We thought we’d go to Orlando this year, but fortunately the Harry Potter/Hogsmead exhibit opened at Universal Hollywood in time to save us the plane fare.
Besides visiting Universal’s wondrous Wizarding World of Harry Potter (a magical story in itself), we also went to Paramount, Warner Bros. and, finally, Disneyland and California Adventure.
Adventure.
I’m a nonathletic woman of 77. Mark, much like me, although, of course, much younger, got a strong dose of what’s ahead as he helped haul me into and out of cars, trams and roller coasters.
Twenty-ish years ago, I went on the last great wooden roller coaster, the Colossus at Six Flags Magic Mountain, with granddaughter Sally. I figuratively kissed the ground when I alighted, swearing that that would be the last big roller coaster I would ever ride.
It’s weird to be of an age to speak in decades, but for four of them I’d been the “fun” parent/grandma, the one who rode roller coasters with the dauntless among our kids and grandkids.
After the Colossus, I became more like their prudent dad/grandpa, born with the good sense to avoid terror and danger.
Yet, on the last day of our stay-cation, Mark coaxed me into riding California Screaming at the California Adventure park.
Screaming? I was stark silent with eyes squeezed shut.
As evidenced by the photo, taken at a point I will never know, my mouth is pursed, my hair is blown straight up like a Mohawk cut, and my knuckles are as white as skeleton bones.
Never again. No more scary rides! Maybe no more theme parks — all that walking, all that soreness and stiffness.
She said.
There are a half-dozen great-grands now, and I noticed that many theme-park junkies ride to the front of the line in wheelchairs and electric go-carts, with their parties of attending youngsters.
Yes, I’ve changed. But, memory of pain is quick to fade (hence, multiple childbirth and regular trips to the dentist). And one thing I’ve learned about myself is that, when it comes to having fun, it is beyond difficult for me to say no.
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An author, LIZ SWIERTZ NEWMAN lives in Corona del Mar.