We spent a bunch of money to get into Great America, then we asked the kids what they wanted to do first. “Find the Arcade!” they cried, as I felt a sharp stab in the pocketbook.
They found the arcade, and my husband and I found the pizza. Then the ice cream. Then the Nachos. The kids spent dollar after dollar shooting water at bubbles and such stuff. We eventually lured them from the arcade to the popsicle stand. Then they wanted to go to the arcade again. We made them eat fried chicken and corn for lunch. Then we went to another arcade.
Once during the day the kids agreed to go on a ride. They wanted to get wet. The sun was going down, but that didn’t have any meaning for them. We headed in the general direction of the wettest ride. I felt a shower of water when a drenched little girl passed me and shook her hair. My son said, “I know we’re near the water ride. I just felt some drops of water from it!”
After the water ride, we got in line for the Whizzer, and we watched it stop right on top of the first hill. (I figured out where it got its name!) Three maintenance men walked up and gave it a push. With that, the coaster catapulted down the first dip of its two-minute course. I heard someone in the crowd utter doubtfully, “It’ll never make it on just one push.”
My husband and I wanted to see the parade and fireworks before heading for home. We entered another arcade and the kids watched another kid play an arcade game. (Their money was gone.) My husband got in line for coffee while I watched at the entrance for the parade to start. There it was! I ran to the game where the kids were hovering to tell them. They glanced over their shoulders and said, “Yeah.” I waved to my husband and pointed to the door. He peered from his place in line. By the time he got to the door to look outside, the parade was over.
The fireworks were next, so we joined the mob of people exiting the park. I squeezed against people on my left, protecting my right hand, which held the full cup of steaming coffee. We burst into a clearing beside the exit gate. No good. No view of the sky. We ran to the parking lot. My husband alternately looked into the sky and searched for the car. I said, “Whoa!” as my coffee and I landed on the pavement.
Patriotic music and static blared across the parking lot. Bursts of voices (both laughter and arguments) blared back. Everyone - Americans, foreigners, kids, teens, babies – did his own thing while the fireworks proclaimed party-time USA. I thought, “We should be more reverent.” Then I thought, “This is America – the good, the bad, and the crazy. And the free.” I smiled and thanked God I was in America. I thanked Him that I had some coffee left, too.
They found the arcade, and my husband and I found the pizza. Then the ice cream. Then the Nachos. The kids spent dollar after dollar shooting water at bubbles and such stuff. We eventually lured them from the arcade to the popsicle stand. Then they wanted to go to the arcade again. We made them eat fried chicken and corn for lunch. Then we went to another arcade.
Once during the day the kids agreed to go on a ride. They wanted to get wet. The sun was going down, but that didn’t have any meaning for them. We headed in the general direction of the wettest ride. I felt a shower of water when a drenched little girl passed me and shook her hair. My son said, “I know we’re near the water ride. I just felt some drops of water from it!”
After the water ride, we got in line for the Whizzer, and we watched it stop right on top of the first hill. (I figured out where it got its name!) Three maintenance men walked up and gave it a push. With that, the coaster catapulted down the first dip of its two-minute course. I heard someone in the crowd utter doubtfully, “It’ll never make it on just one push.”
My husband and I wanted to see the parade and fireworks before heading for home. We entered another arcade and the kids watched another kid play an arcade game. (Their money was gone.) My husband got in line for coffee while I watched at the entrance for the parade to start. There it was! I ran to the game where the kids were hovering to tell them. They glanced over their shoulders and said, “Yeah.” I waved to my husband and pointed to the door. He peered from his place in line. By the time he got to the door to look outside, the parade was over.
The fireworks were next, so we joined the mob of people exiting the park. I squeezed against people on my left, protecting my right hand, which held the full cup of steaming coffee. We burst into a clearing beside the exit gate. No good. No view of the sky. We ran to the parking lot. My husband alternately looked into the sky and searched for the car. I said, “Whoa!” as my coffee and I landed on the pavement.
Patriotic music and static blared across the parking lot. Bursts of voices (both laughter and arguments) blared back. Everyone - Americans, foreigners, kids, teens, babies – did his own thing while the fireworks proclaimed party-time USA. I thought, “We should be more reverent.” Then I thought, “This is America – the good, the bad, and the crazy. And the free.” I smiled and thanked God I was in America. I thanked Him that I had some coffee left, too.
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