Introduction

In moments of stress and anxiety, a popular coping mechanism is mentally focusing on a happy place, and mine is often an amusement park. Barring any unforeseen developments like a rapid succession of roller coaster accidents or sharknado attacks, 2016 is setting up to be a record-breaking year for the amusement park industry, so clearly I’m not the only one whose happy place involves log flumes and dark rides. When 300 million people visit one of approximately 400 amusement parks in the United States in a single year, it’s safe to say that a few of them encountered something completely unexpected that gave them quite a story to tell when they went home.

The idea of compiling the most amazing true stories that have ever occurred in an amusement park seemed promising, although there was the possibility that material would be so scarce I’d have to write 100 pages about the time Fabio got hit in the face with the goose. While that incident will probably always hold the crown for the most amazing amusement park story, to my delight I found many worthy contenders. Other books have chronicled the many horrible accidents that befell amusement park visitors, and while this book does feature its fair share of tragedies, I wanted to give just as much, if not more, attention to the bizarre, funny, and heartwarming incidents. It was certainly tedious to research hundreds of years of amusement park history—on some nights it only took 20 minutes to find a story worth re-telling from newspaper archives, at other times it took several hours, but it seemed I always struck gold eventually and was reminded of just how unpredictable and odd this world is.

In addition to keeping these stories—most of which were printed in a single newspaper or featured on a local news program decades ago—alive, I also wanted to catch up with the participants and see how these events affected their lives. This turned out to be more challenging than I expected because without the funds to hire a private investigator, I could only rely on the internet. It was discouraging to finally track somebody down only to have my e-mails and letters go unanswered, as if only a lunatic would go to the trouble of finding them to ask about the time they were stuck upside down for hours on a roller coaster 25 years ago. Equally annoying was getting the rights to re-print certain photos, so hopefully you will use Google images for visual aids. Frustrations aside, this was a rewarding project that only strengthened my appreciation for amusement parks.

Going to Six Flags as a child always seemed like a mini-vacation, because entering a fantasy-land where you could literally hug your favorite cartoon characters, eat a funnel cake for dinner and then cotton candy for dessert, sit on a magical swing set that does all the work, seemingly time travel back to the Wild West, practically touch the clouds before falling at a speed you never thought was even possible, pass by animatronic lumberjacks via giant log, stare in wonder at a collection of engineering marvels and thousands of flashing lights, and drive a car while giggling at every collision seems like it would require a long plane ride instead of a mere 15-minute drive. I was a firm believer that once the attendant scanned my ticket and allowed me to pass through the gates, anything was possible. After all, I once went to Six Flags with a boy from my 2nd grade class who I never liked—from what I remember, he was picking on me regularly at school and our mothers decided to arrange a play day—and by the end of the day we were friends.

Six Flags continued to entrance and entertain me as I got older and my insatiable hunger for adrenalin grew larger, because it consistently added bigger, faster rides. I used to laugh when my dad told me how the Mine Train used to be the scariest ride in the park; it was a mere kiddie ride compared to the speed demon that was the Screamin’ Eagle. But today’s kids are probably riding the Screamin’ Eagle just to relax and recuperate from stomach-churning modern goliaths like Batman and Mr. Freeze. In St. Louis, I had definitely been spoiled when it came to amusement park proximity, because having a Six Flags season pass allowed me to take a short detour on the way home from work or school just to go on a few rides or enjoy a waffle cone while soaking in the kind of atmosphere and ambience that made the stresses of daily life seem a million miles away. Silver Dollar City in Branson, Missouri, was another one of my favorites, with its charming 1880s Ozark frontier village gimmick, memorable rides like the roller coaster-dark ride hybrid Fire in the Hole, and otherworldly strawberry shortcake. Busch Gardens in Virginia taught me that I wasn’t so useless after all when a stranger witnessed my Whack-a-Mole winning streak and actually gave me a few bucks to win her son a stuffed pelican. Indiana Beach in Monticello, Indiana, catered to my love of horror films with its Mystery Mansion dark ride and its walk-through attraction, Dr. Frankenstein’s Castle. Universal Studios in Orlando provided some of the most unique and surreal rides I’ve ever been on, like Back to the Future, E.T., and Jaws. But predictably, the fondest amusement park memories from my childhood occurred at Disney World.

One time in high school, a professional hypnotist visited my English class for some bizarre reason and proceeded to demonstrate his talents by sending one student on a round-trip journey through her head. When he asked for volunteers who wanted to re-live a special childhood experience in front of the entire class, a few hands were raised, including mine. The class all voted on what story they wanted to hear, and it was a tie between my day at Disney World and a female classmate’s Halloween party—I love Halloween more than just about anything, so I broke the tie and voted for her. Sadly, I never got to hear her favorite Halloween memory because when the hypnotist said, “You are getting sleepy,” I couldn’t help but agree, and my lengthy nap strangely ended the exact second he told the girl to open her eyes at the end of the session. It would have been interesting to go back to that day at Disney World that concluded with a ride on Tomorrowland Speedway under the most incredible lightning storm I ever saw. Perhaps it’s best to leave it as a vague, but perfect memory, rather than risk the possibility of uncovering some repressed memories like Snow White making fun of my Stryper t-shirt or stealing my Mickey Mouse ice cream bar.

Like many twenty-something weirdos who felt alienated in the Red states they called home, I hopped along the Oregon Trail shortly after finishing college in 2004. I chose Portland completely on a whim; I loved the fact that waterfalls, the Pacific Ocean, mountains, and the fictional town of Twin Peaks were just a short drive away. It was one of the few great decisions I’ve ever made in my life, but had I read the fine print that lists what was not available in this gray-skied paradise, I might have disqualified it from consideration. I mean, how could I live in a place without roller coasters or thunderstorms? OK, technically, there are thunderstorms in Portland, but if you happen to be napping during one, there’s a good chance you won’t get another opportunity for a couple of years. As for amusement parks, Portland has been home to Oaks Amusement Park since 1905, and Salem has the wonderfully weird Enchanted Forest, but both are quite small and lacking any ride that could give adults a true adrenaline rush. The nearest big, legitimate amusement park is Silverwood Theme Park in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. So I went from being only ten minutes away from the awesome Six Flags in Eureka, Missouri, to having to drive over six hours to get my roller coaster fix.

It turned out not to be such a bad thing overall; if anything, being so far away from amusement parks makes me appreciate them even more and gives me more incentive to travel. Usually. when I take a vacation now, it’s to somewhere like Mason, Ohio; Anaheim, California; or Williamsburg, Virginia—places with reputable amusement parks that I’ve always been meaning to check out someday. So rather than going to Six Flags whenever I damn well feel like it, I now treat my amusement park day like an annual holiday that I look forward to all year, and if I ever find myself at Santa’s Village in October, then I’ll have the rare pleasure of celebrating my three favorite holidays all at once.

Doing research for this book introduced me to many amusement parks I had never heard of, and hopefully in the upcoming years I’ll be able to cross off a few from my “go-to” list. In the meantime, dear readers, if you find yourselves at an amusement park, make sure you do something wild and goofy that makes the evening news so that I’ll have plenty of worthy material for a sequel!