Don't You Just Love Theme Parks

Wednesday October 11, 2006

First let me say that we had to go to Legoland last weekend. My wife had received free tickets from using her Tesco Club Card. Free and about to expire. So we had no choice but to go.

I don’t mind going on rides at theme parks, it’s just the endless walking around and queuing that wears me down. And the unnecessary warnings. Such as ‘this ride might be unsuitable if you’re slightly timid’ or ‘you will now queue for two hours’.

We’re standing in the line for the pirate river rollercoaster and reading the ‘you will get wet on this ride’ notices. The general topic of conversation appears to be just how wet one will get. The jolly man with his son in front of us keeps asking “have you been on it before? Do you get wet?” He keeps looking behind me, as if he is suddenly going to lose his nerve and run for it.

The family behind us give in and decide to buy a protective polythene sheet each from a vending machine, which cost £2. I think this is ridiculously excessive. The jolly man gives up on me as an information source and starts asking the woman in front of him if he’ll get wet or not. She is certain that he will and he suddenly opens up his rucksack and starts eating his sandwiches, as if this may be his last meal.

As we shuffle nearer to the front we can see people climbing out of their boats who are leaving the ride. Some of them are wet, but others are not. Murmers in the crowd decide that it all depends on where you sit in the boat, front middle or back, that determines the level of soaking.

The now-not-as-jolly man with his son gets to the front of the queue and they are turned away as the boy isn’t wearing a shirt. Shirts and shoes must be worn on all rides. It seems absurd, as after all, this is a pirate ride, and the lifesize lego pirate men are all barefooted and stripped to the waist. But rules is rules. The man, now jolly again, looks relieved as he drags his son away.

We clamber on to the boat with me at the front. It’s a gentle, dry, quiet boat trip at first, but of course we are lulled into a false sense of security in this pre-rollercoaster phase of the ride. Our laughs fade away as our boat is cranked higher and higher into darkness before being surrendered to gravity…

As we career down into the water I am the one who gets well and truly soaked. Nobly, I try to laugh it off in front of the large crowd of spectators. I then crawl out of the boat to be surveyed by the current queue of hopefuls as I squelch off dripping wet. I swear some of them walk away when they see me.

On our way out, we notice a ‘drying booth’ where you can stand to be dried by hidden hairdryers. Just in case you were too tight to buy the polythene cagoule. And it costs £2. Money perhaps better spent going towards a keyring with a picture of us all with our eyes closed, arms in the air and screaming.

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