Santa Slayer
I'm curious like a cat. That's why they call me Whiskers. This weekend, I let my inquisitiveness get the best of me.
Do you ever become so curious about something that you need to investigate? You start inventing your own idea of something: a highly glorified, awesome version of the target of your interest. Usually involving unicorns. It starts consuming you, and nothing can stop you from probind deeper. Not even a $23 dollar admission fee, discovered after paying a $5 parking fee. Even though you know that sating your curiosity will destroy your dream forever, you have to do it.
In this case, the target of my affection was located just south of Phoenix, adjacent to the I-10 at Firebird International Raceway. For weeks, I've seen something being built on my many trips northside. It started out as non-descript, shanty-style frames. Because of the proximity to FIR, I guessed it was some cool background for a go-cart track. Later, they started putting up big, conical structures and tinsel. "Of course," I thought, "It's a Christmas go-cart track."
I was close. It was actually a Christmas-themed theme park. I was just jaded by my love of go-carts. The love is unrequited, however, as go-carts will never help me win against Legal Counsel. I'm too much bigger than her, so she'll always win. That and her mad driving skillz. Speaking of Legal Counsel, she suggested that we visit this theme park after TurkeyGiving. And that was all the motivation I needed to explore this glorious Xanadu.
Upon reaching the parking lot, we were immediately greeted by Christmas Cheer. If by "Christmas Cheer" you mean a five dollar parking fee. Before paying, I aksed about prices to make sure we really wanted to go in. She listed the adult prices, kid prices and senior prices despite the fact that only Legal Counsel and I were in the car (although she looks young and I look old, so it makes sense). I don't know why I asked the prices, however, since I was going to go in no matter what. she could have said $500 and your soul, and I would have responded with "Rock on, show me the way!"
So we parked in the Comet Lot, meaning we got shafted on the reindeer named lots. I would even take Dancer over Comet. Rudolph, of course, is the most favorite parking lot of all. We started walking to the ticket booth, aka "The Rip-Off Zone," and we could immediately tell that something wasn't right. As exhibit A, I submit that there were inflatable palm trees at the entrance:
As you can see, Legal Counsel was just as confused as me. Hey, that rhymed! This was the first indicator of the park's real theme: not being able to stick to a theme.
We bought tickets and went into the place, the entrance of which was an epilepsy-inducing tunnel of flashing lights. Immediately, we were accosted by photographers taking our picture to sell to us later, probably for $375. I half expected Saul to be there. I might have been tempted by their photo sales, but the photog really jumped the gun on the picture, giving us no warning at all. I was stuck half way into a smile. So we took our own picture for free - take that, commercialism.
As we walked down the initial stretch of Santaland, the two most common sights were dioramas and sales booths - the two most iconic Christmas sights. I mostly ignored the booths. I was pleased to learn that the park was geared toward Christmas, not Christ-mas. Only one nativity scene, and no other religious areas. Score. The other dioramas really didn't have their act together. Most of them were Santa-centric, but then there were some Alice in Wonderland dioramas for no real reason. Exhibit B in the unfocused nature of the park. There was a Santa there for pictures, which cost a mind-melting $20. It just made me think that it takes a special kind of creepy-guy to play Santa. Perverts...
Eventually we reached the "Largest Christmas Tree in America," a title which is dubious at best. I doubt it was the largest, and I doubt it was really a tree. Surrounding the tree were giant paintings of the White House and Capital Building. This further establishes America's Unofficial Slogan, "If you don't like Christmas, you can git out!" Next to the tree was a booth selling sweet corn-on-the-cob. Because nothing says Christmas like corn-on-the-cob:
After the giant tree, the Christmas theme disappeared entirely. It turned into a fair. And not even the state fair - it was the county fair. I guess this is Exhibit 3 in the case against Santaland's theme. It had all the typical fair things: rides, carny games, scary carnies, unhealthy food, scary carnies, unexplained smells. You know, the whole shebang. Here are some highlights:
We watched a show involving trained lions and tigers. Very Christmas-y. I spent the whole time thinking two things: 1) I feel sorry for these poor, degraded animals 2) It would be so sweet if they attacked the trainer
The liger people also had a (hybrid animal) on display for 4 bits a gander. It was an anaconda/python mix, which wouldn't occur in nature since they live in different areas (which is also part of the reason ligers aren't natural, despite being prized for magical abilities). I'd call this thing an anacondathon, which is also what I call it when you watch Anaconda and Anaconda 2: The Hunt for the Blood Orchid back to back.
A little kid ride called The Bear Affair, which is also the name of The Hawk's wet dream. It made me wish Bear was still around, so I could tell him about his ride.
We rode a Ferris Bueller Wheel. I'm afraid of heights. I was gribbing the basket the whole time. The smile in this picture is a smile of relief. There is no way a mobile carnie ferris wheel is safe in any way.
Speaking of unsafe, mobile amusements, this was the highlight of the whole place: The Spinning Coaster. It was a really simple roller coaster which had carts that spun around while following the track. Super fun. Super scary.
I also played the balloon popping game and won a duck for Legal Counsel. I'm a cliche boyfriend. The balloon carnies didn't know any of the screw-your-customer secrets: underinflate the balloons, blunt the darts, space the balloons, punch customers as they throw. So it was really easy.
Overall it was a fun time and I'm glad we went. Not as good as my idealized version (which had unicorns and free presents), but still fun. Overpriced, but I was curious. Hooray for the commercialization of religion!
Do you ever become so curious about something that you need to investigate? You start inventing your own idea of something: a highly glorified, awesome version of the target of your interest. Usually involving unicorns. It starts consuming you, and nothing can stop you from probind deeper. Not even a $23 dollar admission fee, discovered after paying a $5 parking fee. Even though you know that sating your curiosity will destroy your dream forever, you have to do it.
In this case, the target of my affection was located just south of Phoenix, adjacent to the I-10 at Firebird International Raceway. For weeks, I've seen something being built on my many trips northside. It started out as non-descript, shanty-style frames. Because of the proximity to FIR, I guessed it was some cool background for a go-cart track. Later, they started putting up big, conical structures and tinsel. "Of course," I thought, "It's a Christmas go-cart track."
I was close. It was actually a Christmas-themed theme park. I was just jaded by my love of go-carts. The love is unrequited, however, as go-carts will never help me win against Legal Counsel. I'm too much bigger than her, so she'll always win. That and her mad driving skillz. Speaking of Legal Counsel, she suggested that we visit this theme park after TurkeyGiving. And that was all the motivation I needed to explore this glorious Xanadu.
Upon reaching the parking lot, we were immediately greeted by Christmas Cheer. If by "Christmas Cheer" you mean a five dollar parking fee. Before paying, I aksed about prices to make sure we really wanted to go in. She listed the adult prices, kid prices and senior prices despite the fact that only Legal Counsel and I were in the car (although she looks young and I look old, so it makes sense). I don't know why I asked the prices, however, since I was going to go in no matter what. she could have said $500 and your soul, and I would have responded with "Rock on, show me the way!"
So we parked in the Comet Lot, meaning we got shafted on the reindeer named lots. I would even take Dancer over Comet. Rudolph, of course, is the most favorite parking lot of all. We started walking to the ticket booth, aka "The Rip-Off Zone," and we could immediately tell that something wasn't right. As exhibit A, I submit that there were inflatable palm trees at the entrance:
As you can see, Legal Counsel was just as confused as me. Hey, that rhymed! This was the first indicator of the park's real theme: not being able to stick to a theme.
We bought tickets and went into the place, the entrance of which was an epilepsy-inducing tunnel of flashing lights. Immediately, we were accosted by photographers taking our picture to sell to us later, probably for $375. I half expected Saul to be there. I might have been tempted by their photo sales, but the photog really jumped the gun on the picture, giving us no warning at all. I was stuck half way into a smile. So we took our own picture for free - take that, commercialism.
As we walked down the initial stretch of Santaland, the two most common sights were dioramas and sales booths - the two most iconic Christmas sights. I mostly ignored the booths. I was pleased to learn that the park was geared toward Christmas, not Christ-mas. Only one nativity scene, and no other religious areas. Score. The other dioramas really didn't have their act together. Most of them were Santa-centric, but then there were some Alice in Wonderland dioramas for no real reason. Exhibit B in the unfocused nature of the park. There was a Santa there for pictures, which cost a mind-melting $20. It just made me think that it takes a special kind of creepy-guy to play Santa. Perverts...
Eventually we reached the "Largest Christmas Tree in America," a title which is dubious at best. I doubt it was the largest, and I doubt it was really a tree. Surrounding the tree were giant paintings of the White House and Capital Building. This further establishes America's Unofficial Slogan, "If you don't like Christmas, you can git out!" Next to the tree was a booth selling sweet corn-on-the-cob. Because nothing says Christmas like corn-on-the-cob:
After the giant tree, the Christmas theme disappeared entirely. It turned into a fair. And not even the state fair - it was the county fair. I guess this is Exhibit 3 in the case against Santaland's theme. It had all the typical fair things: rides, carny games, scary carnies, unhealthy food, scary carnies, unexplained smells. You know, the whole shebang. Here are some highlights:
We watched a show involving trained lions and tigers. Very Christmas-y. I spent the whole time thinking two things: 1) I feel sorry for these poor, degraded animals 2) It would be so sweet if they attacked the trainer
The liger people also had a (hybrid animal) on display for 4 bits a gander. It was an anaconda/python mix, which wouldn't occur in nature since they live in different areas (which is also part of the reason ligers aren't natural, despite being prized for magical abilities). I'd call this thing an anacondathon, which is also what I call it when you watch Anaconda and Anaconda 2: The Hunt for the Blood Orchid back to back.
A little kid ride called The Bear Affair, which is also the name of The Hawk's wet dream. It made me wish Bear was still around, so I could tell him about his ride.
We rode a Ferris Bueller Wheel. I'm afraid of heights. I was gribbing the basket the whole time. The smile in this picture is a smile of relief. There is no way a mobile carnie ferris wheel is safe in any way.
Speaking of unsafe, mobile amusements, this was the highlight of the whole place: The Spinning Coaster. It was a really simple roller coaster which had carts that spun around while following the track. Super fun. Super scary.
I also played the balloon popping game and won a duck for Legal Counsel. I'm a cliche boyfriend. The balloon carnies didn't know any of the screw-your-customer secrets: underinflate the balloons, blunt the darts, space the balloons, punch customers as they throw. So it was really easy.
Overall it was a fun time and I'm glad we went. Not as good as my idealized version (which had unicorns and free presents), but still fun. Overpriced, but I was curious. Hooray for the commercialization of religion!
posted by Montgomery at 8:47 AM
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