G-Lexington
Lex. Icon. Devil.
I first visited Disneyland when I was four years old. (There is photographic evidence of this trip, but I won't be posting it. I was wearing my green/rust/black checked pants.) Like most things that happened over three decades ago, my memory of this trip is a bit hazy. I remember thinking the cannon in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride were too loud. I remember thinking the oscillating smiley-face on the front of the It's A Small World ride was creepy as hell. (Still do.) And I remember this...feeling.
It's hard to describe a feeling, but I'll try. It was the feeling of excitement, maybe a bit of fear (these rides were scary when you're four), but overall, the feeling of limitless possibilities. Disneyland seemed impossibly huge, and the thought that there was something new and exciting around every corner made me feel like, even if I was there for months, I'd never see it all.
I ended up going to college out near the LA area, so trips to Disneyland weren't too big a deal. And as much as I enjoyed those trips, the feeling was mainly gone. And that's not surprising. Disneyland at age nineteen isn't Disneyland at age four.
But there was one attraction there that would - briefly, fleetingly - bring the feeling back. Mission to Mars.
It's not surprising if you've never heard of it. It was never one of their big attractions. It featured animatronic scientists in a NASA-like control center. The head scientist would drone on about space research, then herd everyone into a "rocket" to experience a "true-to-life" rocket ride to the red planet. The rocket ride consisted of several rows of chairs, arranged in a circle, which would vibrate when the rocket thrusters would kick in. A movie played in the center of the circle on the floor, as you saw yourself lifted away from the friendly confines of Anaheim CA, and land upon the mysterious red planet.
The attraction probably kicked some major ass in 1975 when it opened, but by the early 90s, it sucked rocks. The animatronics were awful, the movie was getting grainy, and I don't think anybody actually felt "transported".
Except me. But not to the mysterious red planet. To 1974.
I obviously didn't go on the ride when I was four - it opened a year after that trip. But something about the attraction tapped into that feeling. That feeling of wonderment and excitement and thrills of the future. That "someday we'll reach Mars", spoken with the solid determination that could only be spoken before two space shuttle explosions. The same way that, back then, presidents stood at their desks, one hand clutching their jacket lapel, and resolutely steered the country brilliantly and unerringly towards peace and prosperity. Because that's what it's like when you're four.
Everytime we went to Disneyland, I dragged my friends to the Mission of Mars attraction. I said they had to do it because it was so cheesy. And it was. But secretly, I wanted to feel like I was four again. And that was the only way.
The year I graduated college, they tore Mission to Mars to make the way for something cooler. Not sure what's there now, but it has to be better. But I was sad - that crappy exhibit tapped a part of me that nothing else seemed able to tap.
Until.
Lakeside has been a fixture on the Denver map for decades. All the big bands of the 30s and 40s would play concerts there, and they've had amusement rides there for even longer. But as an amusement park, it's always been second fiddle to the larger Elitch's (now Six Flags Elitch's, thus cementing its second-place status). As such, not much has changed at Lakeside for many years.
I don't think any of the rides there are younger than twenty years. Most of the signs have been up for three or more decades. Like most amusement parks, they used to sell "tickets" to ride the rides, but have since graduated to a "all-day pass". Unlike most, however, they never did get rid of the ticket booths in front of all the rides. Perhaps because they add so much color to the place. Or perhaps they may go back to the "ticket" thing again. Or, most likely, they just never got around to tearing the damn things down.
The rides are fairly tame by today's standards. No upside-down, inside-out, drop-you-ten-stories sort of things. One ride I like is the Whip. Small metal cars get pulled along an oval track, and get "whipped" around the small axis turns. In 1940, this was probably a thrill ride. In 2007, the thrill comes from the fact that this ride is seventy years old, and may simply break at any moment, sending you whipping out of the ride proper and into the trees surrounding you.
And because the rides have been there forever, there's very little in the way of "safety precautions". I don't recall a single ride with a chest harness. The big rollercoaster just has one of those metal bars that descends over you. And the most incredible one is the Wild Chipmunk, which is like a smallish, one-person rollercoaster. The cars look mainly like small bathtubs, with a small seat and a small wrestling mat inside to keep you from cracking your body against the sides. That's it. No seat belt, no bar, nothing.
My first trip to Lakeside, oddly enough, was two years ago. And it was surreal. It was like the Mission to Mars feeling, only much more so. The sayings "it takes you back" and "you'll feel like you were there" are such cliches, and they very rarely do either. But Lakeside really does feel like stepping into the past. I swear if I pulled out a cellphone there, it wouldn't work - it's hard to get a signal in a time warp.
I think I'll go back to Lakeside this year. But first I gotta find some green/rust/black check pants to wear.
Lex
It's hard to describe a feeling, but I'll try. It was the feeling of excitement, maybe a bit of fear (these rides were scary when you're four), but overall, the feeling of limitless possibilities. Disneyland seemed impossibly huge, and the thought that there was something new and exciting around every corner made me feel like, even if I was there for months, I'd never see it all.
I ended up going to college out near the LA area, so trips to Disneyland weren't too big a deal. And as much as I enjoyed those trips, the feeling was mainly gone. And that's not surprising. Disneyland at age nineteen isn't Disneyland at age four.
But there was one attraction there that would - briefly, fleetingly - bring the feeling back. Mission to Mars.
It's not surprising if you've never heard of it. It was never one of their big attractions. It featured animatronic scientists in a NASA-like control center. The head scientist would drone on about space research, then herd everyone into a "rocket" to experience a "true-to-life" rocket ride to the red planet. The rocket ride consisted of several rows of chairs, arranged in a circle, which would vibrate when the rocket thrusters would kick in. A movie played in the center of the circle on the floor, as you saw yourself lifted away from the friendly confines of Anaheim CA, and land upon the mysterious red planet.
The attraction probably kicked some major ass in 1975 when it opened, but by the early 90s, it sucked rocks. The animatronics were awful, the movie was getting grainy, and I don't think anybody actually felt "transported".
Except me. But not to the mysterious red planet. To 1974.
I obviously didn't go on the ride when I was four - it opened a year after that trip. But something about the attraction tapped into that feeling. That feeling of wonderment and excitement and thrills of the future. That "someday we'll reach Mars", spoken with the solid determination that could only be spoken before two space shuttle explosions. The same way that, back then, presidents stood at their desks, one hand clutching their jacket lapel, and resolutely steered the country brilliantly and unerringly towards peace and prosperity. Because that's what it's like when you're four.
Everytime we went to Disneyland, I dragged my friends to the Mission of Mars attraction. I said they had to do it because it was so cheesy. And it was. But secretly, I wanted to feel like I was four again. And that was the only way.
The year I graduated college, they tore Mission to Mars to make the way for something cooler. Not sure what's there now, but it has to be better. But I was sad - that crappy exhibit tapped a part of me that nothing else seemed able to tap.
Until.
Lakeside has been a fixture on the Denver map for decades. All the big bands of the 30s and 40s would play concerts there, and they've had amusement rides there for even longer. But as an amusement park, it's always been second fiddle to the larger Elitch's (now Six Flags Elitch's, thus cementing its second-place status). As such, not much has changed at Lakeside for many years.
I don't think any of the rides there are younger than twenty years. Most of the signs have been up for three or more decades. Like most amusement parks, they used to sell "tickets" to ride the rides, but have since graduated to a "all-day pass". Unlike most, however, they never did get rid of the ticket booths in front of all the rides. Perhaps because they add so much color to the place. Or perhaps they may go back to the "ticket" thing again. Or, most likely, they just never got around to tearing the damn things down.
The rides are fairly tame by today's standards. No upside-down, inside-out, drop-you-ten-stories sort of things. One ride I like is the Whip. Small metal cars get pulled along an oval track, and get "whipped" around the small axis turns. In 1940, this was probably a thrill ride. In 2007, the thrill comes from the fact that this ride is seventy years old, and may simply break at any moment, sending you whipping out of the ride proper and into the trees surrounding you.
And because the rides have been there forever, there's very little in the way of "safety precautions". I don't recall a single ride with a chest harness. The big rollercoaster just has one of those metal bars that descends over you. And the most incredible one is the Wild Chipmunk, which is like a smallish, one-person rollercoaster. The cars look mainly like small bathtubs, with a small seat and a small wrestling mat inside to keep you from cracking your body against the sides. That's it. No seat belt, no bar, nothing.
My first trip to Lakeside, oddly enough, was two years ago. And it was surreal. It was like the Mission to Mars feeling, only much more so. The sayings "it takes you back" and "you'll feel like you were there" are such cliches, and they very rarely do either. But Lakeside really does feel like stepping into the past. I swear if I pulled out a cellphone there, it wouldn't work - it's hard to get a signal in a time warp.
I think I'll go back to Lakeside this year. But first I gotta find some green/rust/black check pants to wear.
Lex