Misadventures in Universal Studios March 29, 2007, spring was in its infancy as my family and I traveled to Orlando, Florida for the first time. My parents had been planning for months, working discreetly to conjure up an unforgettable memory for both my brother and me. Everything was ready as they piled us into my dad’s Ford F 150 at three o’clock in the morning. However, my brother and I remained oblivious to their shenanigans as they declined to mention it to us. We spent twelve hours riding in pitch darkness until daylight arose around six in the morning.
It was not until I saw the bright blue “Welcome to Orlando” sign that I was starting to put all the puzzle pieces together. My mom peeked her head around the seat for the sixth time that morning, her smiling getting wider each time, and slid a pamphlet into my lap. She waited for my reaction. Suddenly, a toothy grin crept across my face as the feeling of understanding filled my noggin. After scanning the pamphlet for ten minutes I was finally able to muster the sentence: “Are you for real? As we entered the golden archway of Universal Studios, I was greeted with a swarm of tourists both walking, jogging, and running into the entrance like herded cattle.
The smell of sunscreen and sweat wafted into my nostrils as we passed the infamous, spinning Universal globe, The sound of people above me on roller-coasters opening their lungs to belch out enormous shrieks and howls was my soundtrack. I clutched my pamphlet with one hand and the strap of my purple Tweety-Bird Overalls with the other as I raced into Whoville waiting for a shot at The Cat in the Hat train.
Everything was going well until later that afternoon when my vacation took an ominous downfall. After numerous turns on the E. T bike ride and the Woody Woodpecker coaster, my dad took ahold of my hand and led me to Amity Village where the Jaws ride resided. I remember vividly of the never-ending line snaking around and around for miles. Apparently, the thrill of almost being eaten by a great white shark was like candy to a baby. As we waited in line, I distracted myself by tapping my foot or counting the people ahead of me, masking my fear.
Sadly, my confidence wavered occasionally as the line shuffled onward. Soon, we had made it to the front of the line; my heart was pounding like a yellowhammer on steroids. My parents loved my big girl attitude and awarded me by putting me on the edge of the boat. Of course, my younger brother, who still had the privilege of being coddled, got to be squished between my mom and dad, a safe haven sandwich that I loathed. Our designated skipper started up the engine welcoming us aboard. Everything was calm as we glided across the water.
The atmosphere was peaceful, the sun was shining, our skipper/ tour-guide was being comical, and I felt hope well up inside me. As we moved further along, the waters became murky and grim. The waves were no longer steady, but crashed against our boat, spraying me in the face with salt water. My heart began to race and my cheeks flared. I still don’t know if the salt I tasted was from the water or the tears that shed. Our comment led us to a boat house. The doors closed behind us as we were engulfed in total darkness, nothing but the sound of my heartbeat and the waves lapping against the boat.
I shut my eyes and prayed that nothing was lurking in its mysterious waters. CRASH! A great white shark submerged out of the onyx sea right next to me. It’s teeth were covered in crimson blood and its black, soulless, eyes pierced through me like daggers. The special effects of the ride made my fear turn into the hysteria. The fog machines were put on full blast and the strobe lights flashed red. The passengers screamed and some laughed at the sight of a mechanical killing machine. I, on the other hand saw my life flash before my eyes.
Magically, the doors of the boat-house opened and our tour-guide rammed the boat into reverse and flew us out of there like bats out of hell. I screamed and dug my fingernails in my father’s arm. The boat then came to a dock and we were let off our ride of doom. My dad lifted me up out of the boat and planted me on the sidewalk. “Come on, Harley! We’re going to see Indiana Jones next. “, my mom called back. My legs felt like over-cooked noodles as I tried to follow after them. My body was trembling and I had the urge to throw up my lunch.
Suddenly, my dad scooped me up into his arms and carried his deranged child out of Amity Village. Although the experience was traumatizing to my nine year old self I was ready to redeem myself when we traveled yet again to Universal Studios last Christmas. To my disappoint, I was three years too late. The Jaws attraction had been replaced with the Harry Potter Escape from Gringots ride. My heart plummeted to my chest. The shark had won, had sunk its teeth deep into my soul and memory, leaving a nasty and festering scar.
