Mecca

1990

I woke up early, wanting to play a little After Burner on Sega Genesis before having Cheerios. I was wearing Batman pajama's. I could get to the fourth level before dying, an accomplishment for a six year old who didn't have a gaming system at his home.

My mom and I were on vacation in Los Angeles, California. We were visiting my uncle in his apartment in Huntington Beach. He was still single. This was a big deal to me because the notorious big screen TV that projected my Mach 3 forays into enemy aviation combat was still in the living room. After the marriage three years later, the TV would be moved to the garage, a not-so-fun place for a kid to hang out in, especially when the uncle had no other children inspiring him to spruce the garage up into a play area.

I remember my mom dressing me up in a Hawaiian button up shirt and blue khaki shorts. I had a typical early 90's hat, complete with pastel orange, pink, and green colors. We were going to a very special place that day.

We were going to Disneyland. My mom and me.

I had never been on any rollercoaster before. Never been to an amusement park save for the Wisconsin State Fair midway where I did the minor circular kiddie rides and fun houses. I remember being completely intrigued with rollercoasters, watching them on TV. I was really itching to go on one, but nothing that extreme.

The first ride we went on was immediately off of Main Street in Tomorrowland. Star Tours. I had seen Star Wars on TV, and was completely taken by the animatronic C-3PO and R2D2 representations. I didn't believe they were there (one of the perks of going with small children to Disney parks is that they believe they are actually seeing Mickey, going into space, shrinking down to a centimeter in size to go into a body to find a splinter, etc.), but I was loving every minute of it. The simulator itself blew me away. I really enjoyed it.

It was a precursor, a pre-staging, for one of the most influential moments of my life. My mom said, "Let's do Space Mountain!" I said, "What's that?" She pointed to a funny looking building down the pathway. "You'll like it."

That's all she said. "Is it scary?" I asked.

"No."

We rode an escalator up into a queue area. It was early in the morning, so the line wasn't very long. I remember blindingly going along with my mom through spaceship hallways. I remember catching a glimpse of the loading area and realizing that it was a rollercoaster. I said to my mom, "You said this wouldn't be scary!"

"Just try it."

So I did.

I remember being strapped in between my mom's legs, and going into the lift hill area. Lights beamed everywhere. I was terrified. But in a good way.

That happy terror turned to complete and utter confusion as we went into the mountain, the main rollercoaster area. Inside the funny building is a rollercoaster completely in the dark, save for projections of stars and asteroids moving around and around the outer walls and track supports. The ride glided along, then dropped violently.

It was at this point that I lose track of memory. I remember being angry, I remember not being afraid but more thrilled. I was still scared, to some degree, but I knew I would live. It was an intense ride.

My first rollercoaster was Space Mountain. A ride completely in the dark, surprising you with drops you never knew were there. Thanks Mom.

We got off the ride, and I remember being really angry with her. "You said it wasn't scary!" I yelled. "I didn't know, Peter," she replied.

Anyone who knows me knows that this attribute of my mom, playfully bullshitting people to go along with an experience like Space Mountain, or any other fun but uncomfortable situation, has been instilled in me. I credit Space Mountain to be the main instigator of this attribute.

I made her promise to not take me on any other rollercoasters. She said fine.

We rode the now defunct People Mover, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, the Haunted Mansion, Pirates of the Carribean (more drops in the dark), the train, It's a Small World, Jungle Cruise.

The ride that stands out as the one that started it all, the obsession with theme parks, my love of presentation through immersive experiences, acting, telling stories through theater and music, Patch . . . was Big Thunder Mountain Railroad.

My mom wanted to go on this one. I immediately said, "NO! No rollercoasters!" She said, "It's not in the dark, you can see where you're going. Try it." I looked at it.

It looked awesomely terrifying. I had to try it. Even then, I knew that I really really wanted to like this machine that intrigued me so much from television specials. I wanted to triumph over it.

It was the greatest ride of my life. Might still be, in that it was the most important ride of my life. I loved every second of it. The hills, the theme, the caves. It was intense, but not too intense. I grasped it.



I was done for. A good chunk of my personality was bred from this ride. Sounds corny, but it's true.

---------------------------------------

2009

Today I visited Disneyland for the third time in my life. I went there by myself, taking it all in at my leisure. I had some Patch business I wanted to talk about with the band and I waited until I was in line for Big Thunder Mountain to do it. A kind of homage to where a lot of the influence started. It was bittersweet.

And Space Mountain, riding it at 25 now instead of 6, might be the better ride overall. It takes your breath away. And the Imagineers have outfitted the trains with music speakers to have a soundtrack along with the ride. They've redone the track to make it less bumpy and have more hills. It's a fantastic ride.

A good day. A good day, indeed.

Tape Deck Mountain -- "In the Dirt"

The Eye of Hurricane Asshole

The Mall of America carries a strange stigma for me. Growing up, obsessed with all things amusement parks, rides, and themes, Camp Snoopy was always on my travel wishlist. The first time I visited the Mall was in seventh grade, if I'm not mistaken. I loved it. The log ride was my favorite, being that it was heavily themed, it was creative, it utilized the space it resided in beautifully. I went back the next year after that, again I loved it.

Flash forward to college, particularly the University of Minnesota Twin Cities. Freshman year, right when you started school, if you were an out of towner, the MOA was one of the only things to do outside of campus, other than going to the Metrodome to check out Gophers football and downtown to Block E to catch a movie or play video games at Gameworks before 9:00pm (when they turn into a full out bar). So, the MOA was visted often, a companion to the trepidation I held for being out of the nest and away from my parents for the first time. I go back to that place in my head still whenever I visit the MOA. Especially when I frequent the amusement park in the middle.

As time wore on, the Mall was naturally seen as a sore in the Twin Cities. The natives were done with it, we grew older and wiser . . . we worked there. I never did, but a lot of my friends have or do. Whenever I venture to suggest a MOA trip to the clan, I tend to get a lot of groans as an answer. The Mall does magnify the generation below my own in an unfavorable light. I was hissed at on two separate occasions recently by passersby teenagers. The women there are of the fake Stepford Wife hopefuls, the men the American Eagle/Abercrombie/Hollister consumers. Within Nickelodeon Universe (what the former Camp Snoopy is called now) these dour personalities dissipate, leaving happy families, couples, and goofy braces laden teenagers in their stead. I like the amusement park. It tends to separate the pretentious from the happy souls. And I find it to still be a good date spot.

You can tell a lot about a person, especially if they have or currently work at the Mall, when they are within the confines of the nucleus of the largest shopping center in America. It's like a psychological screening. People who shun the park will most likely never be called upon for many out of the house romps by my person. The pro-park peeps: I've become best friends with people at this place. It makes me realize the intricacies within the personalities of the company I keep. I'm asking them to journey into a courtyard of a compound surrounded by asshole, shallow minded consumers. The very nature of our impending demise as a society is unmasked without remorse at the MOA, and I'm asking artists/intellectuals/level headed people to go there with me to have fun in an unironic way. It makes me realize there are people willing to goof off with me, wearing immaturity on their sleeve. My kind of people.

To my companion in tonight's Universe jaunt: it was beautiful. All pure, all good. Another found soul mate revealed as we were laughing at the bottom of the Log Chute's last drop.

The Kills -- "Black Balloon"

Holy Grounds

The first birthday celebration, a blast from the past to celebrate the new: The Rainforest Cafe.

I've had some of the most poignant moments of my life at these establishments. One of my best first dates (one of the top ten moments of high school -- "VOLCANO!!!") which led to the relationship with my main high school sweetheart; one of the best birthdays I've had was held here as well: my 19th. This might have been one of the happiest moments of my life so far. Freshman in college, schmoozing with all of Bailey Hall . . . god, that was a good time.

And now . . . 25. The new quarter. The quarter where I have to shit or get off the pot. 1-24 is Preparation. 25-50 is Action. What other way to bring it in than with a nice trip back to the rainforest?

This restaurant, while corny and outright creepy at times, makes me think of my family. All my life I've been into amusement parks and themes and theatrical environments. My family put up with my obsessions and brought me to these places. Once, trying to come up with a family reunion locale, they thought "Why not Six Flags in honor of Peter?" My grandma, 85 years old, rode a looping rollercoaster with me, and loved it.

I imagine I'll continue obsessing over these places once I have my own kids and grandkids. If the wife says, "Well kids, your father and I wanted to take a trip to Disney World, but times are tough--" I'll chime in: "We'll find a way." Wife: "Peter, we can't afford--" Me: "You'd strip them of a chance to go see the Happiest Place on Earth? How could you?!" Wife: "We've been there five times already." Me: "Yeah, what's your point?" Wife: "We can skip it this year."

I get up, take the kids into my arms, and pronounce: "Kids . . . I think we need to give your mother some time to think. She doesn't seem to be herself. Honestly, wife of mine, look at their innocent faces. LOOK AT THEM!!!" Then my kids and I burst out sobbing and running for the car, where I will drive them to the nearest Chuck E. Cheese for pizza and ball pit time.

And to take in the splendour of the animatronic band:


The Beatles -- "Lovely Rita"

Screamtown

It doesn't feel like fall. It doesn't feel like Halloween. My favorite time of the year. Even after forcing it down your throat, it still doesn't feel like it. But I'll take it. Lord knows I'll take anything Halloween straight up!

Last night it was Screamtown, a newer Halloween destination in Chaska, MN. I visited Screamtown two years ago, their first year, when it was across the street from Canterbury, and it was pretty lame. This year, they've upped the anty with their new location. They sport five haunted houses.

1) Klown House: a dizzying romp through orange fences filled with deranged killer clowns. Fun, but not the greatest.

2) Terror in the Corn: a muddy trail in the corn. You go through sheds, up hills, through scarecrow gatherings. A group of faceless burlap sack people made clicking sounds in my face, a couple doing a low growl, reminding me of the crab zombies in Half Life 2, near bloodied scarecrows. Terrifying, actually. This was fun.

3) Rabid Alley: Basically a pitch black number of shacks, where you can't see anything. I bonked my head three times and got lost once. The Dark Knight soundtrack plays along with two other creepy animal soundtracks. It actually makes for a pretty good mindfuck. People hiss at you throughout, screaming at you in monkey squeals. Again, a mindfuck. Not a lot of haunted houses do mindfuck.

4) Oak Blood Forest: Another outside adventure. It's actually more beautiful than it is scary. Lights shine throughout the woods, making for really creepy images. You see silhouettes ahead outlined in green in front of a cemetery. People with chainsaws chase you. Interesting and campy.****

5) Hillbilly Hotel: The best haunted house of the park, if not one of the cooler haunted houses I've been to in the last couple years. It sports a number of different elements: first you travel into a trailer, a claustrophobic dark maze where buttons reside on the floor, waiting for you to step on them, emitting loud noises and weird gory scenes behind grilled booths. Very sideshowy. You get outside, and crazy hicks run around screaming and drawling. It makes for a crazy experience, since the schtick of hillbillies might be true. It creates a terrifying "it's possible" thought process in the back of your head as you go through the compound. Junkyards follow, then you enter another trailer, this one with more "hotel" paraphernalia. Low orange lighting, strange hotel rooms, hicks running around. Creepy. And awesome.

****A "monster" told us a story about the Oak Blood Forest attraction. The first year they opened in the new locale, they had the chainsaws in the northeast portion of the forest. Apparently, the closest neighbor, a widow, had a husband who died in a chainsaw accident, and she had been hearing chainsaws and screaming every weekend. She filed a complaint with the park, and of course they changed the position of the chainsaws. Jesus.

I highly recommend this to any Halloween nuts out there. But be prepared for mud. One of our cars got stuck in the parking lot, and I almost spun out and got stuck on the dirt road into the field. Your shoes will have layers of mud on them as well. The corn maze was quicksand. Look past this, don an air of campy good humor, and prepare to jump, and this might be the best thing you do all October.

Their website:
http://www.screamtown.com/

Marilyn Manson -- "Kiddie Grinder (Remix)"

Noah's Miracle Slide

I had planned to write a blog about how I would kill Shannon's kitten in revenge for taking bites out of my left foot while sleeping four nights in a row, but then a coworker, who just resumed work after taking the summer off, made the original intent drab and arbitrary.

During the summer, my coworker worked at Noah's Ark, another one of my holy stomping grounds. He was a lifeguard turned manager, and I was completely intrigued by the inner workings of the waterpark. Near the end of the convo I asked him, "So, bein' that you were totally immersed in the inner gears, what are they planning for next year?"

He smiled. "Dude, it's . . . it's insane. A looping waterslide."

I gawked. "WHAT?!"

"Yeah, you stand in a telephone booth thing, then the floor drops out and you go through a speed slide into a loop."

I'm terrified. Because I know I'll have to ride it.

Oh my god.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs -- "The Sweets"

Avalanche

In honor of my ValleyFair visit today, and my not-so-secret obsession with theme parks, amusement parks, rollercoasters . . .

I have ridden at least a hundred rollercoasters in my life. I have traveled the country, nay, the world, riding rollercoasters. It is one, if not THE dorkiest trait I have. I have ridden the record breaking coasters: the FASTEST, the TALLEST, the one with the most INVERSIONS, the LONGEST DROP, the LONGEST in general . . . 420 footers, 120 mph, 8 loops, two miles long . . .

I could tell you in a heartbeat what my favorite coaster is. It is not a record breaker. You've probably never heard about it. Even if you've visited the city in which it resides you've probably never given it the time of day. It was just on your way to another rollercoaster center.

Wisconsin Dells has Mt. Olympus. Pretty decent coasters there. It used to have pretty decent go-karts, too, but for some reason once Big Chief went all "THEME PARK OF THE GODS" on us they toned down the go-karts to mere put-putters. Man, those fuckers used to fly!

My favorite happens to reside in the same town. Only it's not at Mt. Olympus. So where else could there be a coaster?

At a mini-golf course down the street. Timber Falls. It's a small Adventure Golf park, complete with a log flume and a number of mini-golf courses surrounding a miniature volcano that bursts flames every fifteen minutes or so.

They also have Avalanche, a small underdog of a wooden beast. It looks somewhat intense, judging from the harsh angles with which the track makes its turns. They're virtually at 90 degrees. The track is simple in design: it makes two revolutions around the entire park. But being that it's so small, there's not a lot of room for big hills and filler. So, a not-so-high drop sends a train of three cars around the park two times. Sounds lame, eh?

Wrong. The lift hill goes a little too high for comfort. And the ride happens to be a little too fast for a mere two revolutions around a quaint little mini-golf park. That's why it's so awesome! It's too high and too fast for the schematics of the park. It doesn't fit!! So you feel like you're literally going to die on the fucker!!!

I've never been on a rollercoaster where I've felt somewhat unsafe. They're pretty much loaded with rules and regulations to the point where break runs are cursed all over a circuit to slow the ride down for the ease and comfort of mass amounts of tourists. Avalanche is a secret . . . that's why there ain't no breaks on its entire circuit. Breaks would make it so that the car wouldn't be able to get around its two revolutions. And there are no big hills to slow down the car . . . they're all foothills, giving you copious amounts of airtime, knowing that if that lapbar wasn't in your lap you'd be sprawled on one of the mini-golf courses below in a bloody heap.

The only coaster where I've feared for my safety is Avalanche, because it gives you the illusion that it's all going to fall apart. It's perfectly safe, but I don't want to know that. Six Flags' coasters all feel like you'll live. It's all fun and games. Avalanche feels like a challenge, a real thrill seeker's delight. You could come out broken.

Whenever I travel between Milwaukee and Minneapolis, I always weigh whether or not I should stop and take an $8 ride on Avalanche. I usually buy McDonald's across the street while looking at the ride. With french fries in my mouth, I usually start to smile up at the rollercoaster on top of the Wisconsin Dells dam. I usually say "Fuck it. I'm doin' it."

One time my ex girlfriend, excited about my impending arrival in Minneapolis from Milwaukee, called me while I was on the coaster. I, of course, didn't pick up. The phone was in the car. But I called her back.

She said, "Where are you?"

"The Dells."

"You were there a half hour ago."

I stopped. "Oh . . . um . . ."

"You rode the rollercoaster, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

She said, "Dammit, Peter! I had plans for us!"

"Oh, I'm sorry."

She said, "No you're not. You love that coaster."

I couldn't argue with her. She was right.

I'd take that coaster over a romp in the hay anyday.



Iggy Pop and the Stooges -- "1969"

Selfish Caregiving

Today, Miniapple visited the Minnesota Children's Museum in St. Paul. When I saw the posting about us taking this field trip I was totally stoked.

The first time I went here I wasn't expecting much, save for some lame exhibits. I was floored! They have an exhibit called Earth World on the 4th floor. It's nestled in a corner, you can't see any part of it when you're coming up the stairs. But when you get to the door, your eyes fill up with fake trees, man-made plastic mounds of dirt, ponds, gyms made out of grass and plastic ants. Even today, all the adults' eyes went wide with wonder. "Whoaaaaa!" You think back to your childhood, you totally want to go in and play along with the kids. If you're a teacher, there's a way . . .

There's a kid in my class. He's two. Long blond hair, uses a lot of D sounds with S's and T's and K's. I saw him eyeballing the large ant hill climber, which is a large network of tunnels you can climb through, complete with hidden slides, steps made out of dirt pebbles, odd crawl spaces, and surprise ants. You can use these surprise ants to your advantage if you want to go into the climber as an adult.

This kid was moving slow with his arms stretched out at his sides. He was scared. I bent down and said "Hey _____, you want to come with me to see the ants?"

His eyes grew wide with terror. "Anda?" Translated: "Ants?"

"Yeah, it's awesome. Come on, I'll help you through it. You'll like it."

I could feel him pulling away just a little, so I moved slower. With every turn you find yourself being more and more immersed into the ant climber. The lights grow dimmer, the walls get darker. His steps grew slower as we moved deeper and deeper.

We came to a tunnel opening. Inside was a huge plastic ant. This is fucking scary to small children. It's a monster to most. As I had hoped, he let out a little yelpish "No! No!" I turned around and said "It's okay." I crawled into the tunnel and knocked on the head of the ant. "See, it's fake."

I grabbed his hand, pulled him closer, and then moved past the ant, which was when he started smiling and laughing. He said "Dome on, Peta!" This is the situation where you can crawl in the space yourself to help the scared kids explore, acting as both the savior of your students' fear and secretly indulging your inner child, to which mine is too vast to ignore.

You also will be able to scope out another job: the slide handler. This kid and I came to the slide, after having said hello to many other students of my classroom. They all followed me, laughing. "PETER!!! PETER'S IN HERE!!!" The kids all followed us to the slide, where I helped organize a line together in order to have the kids safely go down the slide one by one. At the end of the line it was my turn.

You just have to know how to work the system without having your coworkers look poorly on you.

Other exhibits include World Works (a huge room full of paper making activities, light shows, water piping, Rube Goldberg machines, shipping and handling conveyer belts) and Our World (a mini town including a bus, a grocery store, a post office, a green screen dance room where kids dance and see themselves on TV, a restaurant, and a hospital). These places allow you to do play acting, one of the main things I love about working with children. I would go up to the restaurant cash register with a fake onion in my hand and yell "You sold me a bad onion! I want my money back!" This makes the kids bonkers. One yelled "No! You get what you paid for or else I'm calling the police!" I said "Go ahead! They'll agree with me!" They went on the horn, 911. They turned around and said "The police are on their way! You're going to jail!" I stepped back, arms up "Okay, okay. It's not that bad of an onion."

If I could be a professional amusement babysitter, taking kids to random fun places around town, that would be the perfect day job for right now. But, you usually have to be a teacher or counsellor to do something like that. So it's days like today when I feel the happiest in my current work situation.

Check out the website for this place:
http://www.mcm.org/

Antony and the Johnsons -- "Another World"

Alpha Recon Delta Beta Theta Peta Iota

TRANSMISSION 2/1/09 -- SUMMARY OF ALPHA RECON UPRAISED LANDMASS RUN "A" 1/31/09

REPORT BY COMMANDER KEAN

On January 31, 2009, a team of rookie soldiers led by myself embarked on a reconnaissance mission. We were observing upraised landmasses covered in crystal powder for the purpose of a future invasion upon unsuspecting children and families by my entire squadron of great American soldiers. We sought out five compounds, two of which were deemed "steep" and three "official".

We first travelled to the steep compounds, Hillcrest and McMurray Fields. Being our first stops, we were overjoyed at the prospect of using our Army approved sliding devices after being idle for so long in some dank basement. Lt. Haftek and I started the onslaught, followed by Lt. Neary and Lt. Doering close behind. Our conclusion: steep hills may sound promising, but they pale in comparison to most hills. They are quick, dangerous, and amateur. Jumps were constructed to spruce up the thrills, but they were cheap, masking the "weakness" of said hills. As a team, we have deduced that Hillcrest and McMurray are unworthy of our further attention.

However, the three "official" hills were a pleasant surprise. We ventured to Chelsea Hill in the middle of the Como Park Territory, a snowboarding/sledding hill complete with a tow rope for the snowboarding squadrons. However, a manmade pond alongside the left hand flank provided some shock when one of the younger members of the corp fell into the forbidden ice zone, causing slight terror on our parts, thinking the child had fallen beneath the ice. Thankfully, this was not the case.

Chelsea Hill offered a quick ride, small, rolling mounds, and a nice, smooth experience. The only drawback was that the sledding trejectories intersected with the snowboarders', making for an impromptu stop upon each run by feet braking. Minor, but worth mentioning.

Another hill on our list was the City Pages pick for Best Sledding Hill 2008: Wirth Park Golf Course's 10th fairway. This hill is sponsored by many companies, and holds a triathlon on occasion. It is long, smooth, and fast, but it doesn't hold any surprises. The hill is worth it, but the walk up for repeat slidedowns is tedious. We recommend snow tubes for this hill, not long, plastic instruments of awkwardness. They will most likely spin out of control, making for slight frustration as to the fact that you just walked five minutes up the slope only to fail upon descent. We approved this hill for the future invasion.

The hill that caught our attention the most was Columbia Heights Golf Course's 12th fairway. This hill boasts everything that we had come to admire in the hills we had ridden all day. It is long, it is steep, and above all, it is fast. The hill starts on a slight decline, pushing 40 degrees, but quickly turns into a 60 degree plummet of imminent death once you hit the 1/3 mark. Any sled will do on this hill. The walk up is slightly difficult, but not quite the tediousness of Wirth Park's walk. This is our top pick for a sledding hill in the Twin Cities urban area.

I'd like to commend my fellow soldiers on their amazing reconnaissance skills. They are true Americans.

Upraised Landmass Run "B" is pending, but will occur. This mission will be the invasion, there is no word from Central yet on its intended undertaking. But we will get the message out once it is set in stone.

END REPORT

1990's -- "You Made Me Like It"