My first trip to Wild Waves involved nausea, near hypothermia — and a whole lot of fun.
I grew up in San Diego where theme parks meant a two-hour drive to Disneyland, Knott’s Berry Farm or Magic Mountain. After 10 hours of scorching-hot sun and terrifying lines, my friends and I would feel lucky if we had ridden 10 rides. August was for tourists. Usually we wouldn’t spend the big bucks for theme parks unless our parents allowed us to miss school so there wouldn’t be so many crowds. Then maybe we’d score 15 rides, or even 20.
So imagine how thrilled I was to visit Wild Waves and go on five major attractions in the very first hour. Unfortunately, my stomach didn’t know what hit me.
We started on The Wild Thing, a mammoth roller coaster with a loop-de-loop and two corkscrews. “This is the best day ever!” I screamed, both hands up surfing the air.
Next came the Disk’o Flashback, which rose to 30 feet high and spun in 360-degree turns. “OK,” my brain said. “Maybe go easy on the next one.”
Riding the Kiddie Coaster with my daughter seemed like a safe follow-up. But wowza! That coaster delivered a punch. My 6-year-old loved it; my tummy not so much.
“But, Mom! Hurry up! There aren’t any lines!” Both kids tugged me uphill to the Old West territory.
My 10-year-old and I headed straight for the Timberhawk Ride of Prey, which is the type of old-fashioned wooden coaster I adore. You really get jostled around on those things, which is part of the fun. By the time we exited our car, my legs were shaking.
My husband and I switched kids and I watched our daughter go around and around and around on a child-only ride called Red Baron. “Will the spinning ever stop?” My stomach had hard questions for my brain.
Next we headed to Paratrooper, a rotating ride that lifts your feet up into the trees. By the time we were airborne, tears streamed down my cheeks as I struggled to keep breakfast in place. I told myself on repeat: “I’m in a hammock gently rocking.” I closed my eyes and pretended hard, but it didn’t make the queasiness disappear.
When we got off the ride my mother-in-law appeared like magic to whisk my daughter away. I spent the next two hours collapsed on a lounge chair by the wave pool, moaning into my towel.
Lunch for me was gingersnap cookies my husband smuggled in. By the afternoon, I felt better. The sun was out and we were ready for the slides.
Did I say the sun was out? What I meant was, the sun was kind of out. Sort of… Well, at least it wasn’t raining.
My husband assured me that standing in line, wet and shivering from the cold, was part of the traditional Wild Waves experience.
Let’s just say I’ve been properly baptized.
Jennifer Bardsley is an Edmonds mom of two. Follow her on Instagram @the_ya_gal, Twitter @jennbardsley, or teachingmybabytoread.com.
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
