To tell our children they were going to Silver Dollar City meant nothing. When the biggest amusement park they’ve ever been to is Kiddie Land--four rides and a snow cone stand--there’s just no way for them to wrap their minds around SDC.
“It’s like a big town in the old west, with cowboys and gunfights in the street.” That was the best explanation I could come up with, since I didn’t want to bother my worrisome child with thoughts of “robbers and bad guys.” And let’s face it, they’re too young to hear about “bar maids and saloon girls”. But then I realized they really don’t know much about the west either. Or what it was like when it was old.
So as we made the turn into parking lot five, I could tell that they really didn’t know what to expect. The place is so big that you can’t see the park or even the main gate from the lot. All you can see is the tram that gives you a lift to the front door. And as we stood in line waiting on our turn, the boys excitement finally began to rise. “We’re gonna get to ride on that train?” It was like Christmas in July.
As we neared the gate, I wondered silently if we could just ride the tram back and forth all day since I knew the price of tickets into the wild, wild west just might be enough to kill my husband on the spot. Brisco and I chose not to watch and scampered inside to a bathroom. We left Dad no choice but to pay the unreasonable toll and put it out of his mind while he walked in circles over the 61 acre theme park with the aid of a map that looked like Brisco could have drawn it. Thank goodness for the rain or we might have had to stop to buy him an authentically crafted pine box for the ride home.
We failed to escape the picture lady before we ever entered the gate. Six or seven minutes of trying to get my three uncooperative males to adequately pose and smile to her satisfaction seemed to be long enough, and she finally gave up and released us for our adventure back in time.
After catching a few demonstrations and scouring a few stores, Dad eyed a spot that looked familiar from his days as a youngster visiting the park. He led us inside without any of us knowing just where we were going until the little carts pulled to a stop at the front of the line. Suddenly, I knew where we were.
“Is this a roller coaster?” I asked.
“Fire in the hole,” he said with the ornery smile of a 10 year old boy.
“Is this going to scare them?” I asked again.
“Naah. It’s not too bad,” he promised.
The boys had no idea what they were getting into. Even when the carts pulled up to where they could see them, they didn’t get it. It simply looked like a little train--seats, connected to the seats in front of them, rolling down a track. What’s to be afraid of?
Cooper and dad went first. They rolled into the tunnel with a big smile, and when they came out the other side, slightly sprinkled, they were both wearing the same smile they went in with. “Ok,” I thought. “Maybe this isn’t so bad.”
Brisco and I were next, buckling and smiling and getting ready to enjoy our first real amusement park ride at SDC. “Are you ready?” I asked. “He just looked up at me with that big Brisco smile and said, “Yep! Where are we going?”
It seemed we’d taken a trip back in time to when the Baldknobbers lie in wait to attack and terrorize and torture the hardworking people of the Ozarks. Scenes of burning houses and the sounds of loud, twangy hillbillies were being shouted from the insides of old farmhouses as the vigilantes attempted to set the town on fire. “Put ‘cher pants on!” the lady of the house screamed. “I cain’t! The Baldknobbers took em!” her fleeing husband replied.
All this would seem harmless enough if it weren’t for the pitch darkness and the twists and turns of what seemed (to a 4 year old) an out of control race car barreling willy-nilly into the night. As he clutched at my arm and screamed, “Mama, I don’t like it!” I knew it was going to get worse before it got better. Suddenly, the raucousness of the burning town was behind us. Only darkness…and the sight of one bright headlight, shining from an oncoming train lay ahead. Oh no! We’re going to crash!
I suppose a crash might have been a better idea to Brisco than the bottom dropping out of the track (and his stomach) because at that point, the screams and the tears started coming. I think I may even have a permanent bruise on my left arm. One high-speed drop would have been more than enough for my poor boy, but there were two. And right when he thought the torture had ended, he was squirted with just enough water to wind him up all over again. We exited our cart screaming and pawing and crying real tears that could not be consoled for the next 15 minutes. Who’d have thought our bold little Brisco would be so terrified!
We quickly learned that Cooper would try anything and Brisco was afraid of even the frogs. Yes, the frogs. The only ride he decided he could enjoy safely was the Ladybugs, and let me tell you, I could walk faster than those bugs flew.
By the end of the day, we had worked so hard all any of us wanted to do was go home and check the water in the hot tub. And as we climbed on the tram for the ride back to our car, Cooper looked out over the trees in the distance. “Look! It’s a rainbow!” he said excitedly. It was a picture-perfect ending to an all-around excellent day.
As the boys climbed into bed that night, they could hardly believe that tomorrow it would be time to move on. “Where are we going next? Will we get to go swimming? How long will it take to get there?” Some questions are as timeless as the messes our children get us into. But one thing’s for sure: No matter where our travels take us, good music, great food, and unforgettable memories are sure to follow.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
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