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Don’t forget about the Tram
Good morning ladies and gentlemen, and welcome aboard. It is my pleasure to welcome you to the Williamsburg Virginia home of Anheuser Busch, and Busch Gardens, The Old Country. Please remain seated, keeping head and arms inside the tram at all times. For your own safety and comfort, please, no smoking eating or drinking while on board. Please note you are parked in the Scotland Parking Lot. Our park will be open until 10 PM this evening. Your single priced passport covers all rides, shows and attractions for the entire day. Tickets are $12.50 per person, while children two years of age and under are admitted free. There will be a slight additional charge for games and for concert entertainment.
As you tour our park today, you may notice several height restrictions for many of our rides. For example, if your child is 46 inches tall or taller, he may be able to ride the Glissade, Wildcat, or Wave Swinger. He must be 48 inches tall to ride the Loch Ness Monster. Other such height restrictions will be posted at the rides. Your cooperation in helping us to enforce these safety regulations will be greatly appreciated. If you brought a picnic lunch, we have picnic areas available in most of our parking lots. Picnic lunches, along with radios and coolers, are not permitted inside the park. We also ask that you help us keep our park clean by using the trash receptacles located throughout the park and parking lots.
As we approach the Tram Stop, please remain seated until the tram comes to a complete stop. At that time, parents please take small children by the hand, and exit carefully on the right side of the tram. Trams will depart from this location throughout the day to return you to the Scotland Parking Lot. Please watch your head and your step, and have a great day at The Old Country.
Sound familiar? If the answer is yes, then you must have visited Busch Gardens when it was still called The Old Country. This particular spiel, or a voluble line of extravagant talk, was recited thousands of times during the summer of 1982. Reading this spiel today is like opening a time capsule.
Of course Anheuser Busch no longer owns or operates Busch Gardens Williamsburg, tickets are certainly NOT $12.50, and concerts no longer require an additional fee. But you know what? The core of the message has remained the same: Welcome, Safety, Conservation, and Fun!
Whether it is your first-time visit to the park or the 60th, the tram ride sets the tone for the entire day. The number of times I have been on a Busch Gardens tram in the course of three decades is mind-numbing. Amazing thing is; I cannot recall a single ride that wasn’t pleasant.
I know, I know. There are no big drops and I doubt the tram could even reach 50mph. In jest, I could probably beat it to the finish line on foot. (If I were in better shape and perhaps if my name was Usain Bolt.)
Still… who cares about thrills when you are looking for a dependable, relaxing, and peaceful transport to and from the park? Any weary traveler will tell you that the approaching tram is a welcome sight when heading back to their car; especially if the traveler is also toting children, cotton candy, ice cream cones; a camera, several water bottles, and a giant stuffed Gorilla that has been hoisted overhead for hours after winning it at the ring toss.
It is in moments like that that I really appreciate the tram. In addition, I also respect how the tram operators never fail to greet everyone warmly. It takes a special kind of person to maintain a hospitable presentation for each group of riders no matter how bad the weather is outside. I’m sure it isn’t easy to get people on board smiling when it is freezing or entice them to laugh on a sweltering day.
Speaking of weather and in the spirit of humor, I have provided some southern weather-based colloquialisms* to analyze how much the tram actually improves our experience at Busch Gardens.
On those scorching summer days when it is hotter than a hen laying up hill in a wool basket, does the tram feel like a camel ushering us to the oasis? Yes. If the rain done come a “gullywusher,” does the tram provide us safe passage back to our cars? Yes. And even if it is colder than moonlight on a tombstone in December, can it be said that the tram swiftly carries us all to our destinations; much like Santa’s Sleigh? Of course.
For all of those reasons, I believe that the unofficial motto used by the US Postal Service should also reflect on the duty of maintaining and operating the trams at Busch Gardens.
Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from their swift completion of their appointed rounds.
In 1982, the tram operators would always conclude your ride with:
“We hope you have enjoyed your visit with us today, and invite you to return soon. ……Please watch your step as you exit and have a pleasant evening from Busch Gardens The Old Country.”
Needless to say, I enjoyed my trip then, today, and I will be returning to the park many times in the future. To all those wonderful people that make our little tram ride to and from the park so enjoyable: Bravo!
There is a great video to watch regarding the trams and it can be seen here:
Joe’s Job: tram operator at Busch Gardens Tram Operators work the 10-10 shifts all summer to drive visitors to Busch Gardens from their cars into the park.
*southern weather-based colloquialisms found on this page have been passed down to me by my grandmother..
She, bless her heart, always recited the most charming of Appalachian gems. Here are some of my favorites : I’m as full as a tick. Jumpy as a cat in a roomful of rockers. Pretty as a speckled pup. It’s hotter than the devil. Happier than a cow in clover. Skinny as a rail. He wouldn’t know the truth if it looked him in the face.
On a side-side note: For years I thought “Si-goggle,” or Appalachian slang for crooked, was an actual word until I was scolded by my first grade teacher for making up nonsense. Why, I reckon she done think me dumber than a coal bucket! Guess I was never one for book learnin’ y’all.
A Coaster Tour Survivor’s Review: 2010
I survived the Busch Gardens Williamsburg Coaster Tour, the question is, have you?
For those of you teetering on the fence about whether to purchase a ticket or for those who may not have even known about the coaster tour; don’t hesitate – Get your ticket and head out there! The relatively new Roller Coaster Insider Tour is a must see for any person with a strong passion for either Busch Gardens Williamsburg or World Class Coasters.
My set date was March 27, 2010; a cold March Morning; one that barley passed the temperature restriction for riding the coasters. Arriving at the parking lot, I was personally escorted in by a company vehicle and was given a parking spot in the very first row of the England Parking Area.
OK, for those of you not familiar with this; I have been coming to the park for over 30 years and have NEVER had the good fortune of landing such a parking spot. EVER.
Already, I felt like a VIP.
Ben & Zack, our two designated tour guides, greeted us and took us onward into the park’s main entry way and I immediately noticed something amiss from my normal visits to the park. It was quiet. No music or crowds; just carts being moved around and a spattering ensemble of maintenance work being done. Eerie perhaps, but pretty much just how I envisioned the park to be before the gates officially opened.
Destination number one on the Coaster Tour (besides the bathroom) was The Classic Loch Ness Monster Coaster; an honor well deserved by its legacy. Good ol’ Nessie is an ACE landmark and should always be the anchor of the Park. Testing of the Loch Ness was happening at the moment of approach and while standing underneath the interlocking loops, we were able to see all the coasters in the nearby vicinity being sent out on test runs in the odd quiet. It was definitely intriguing to see maintenance workers hopping across tracks like Kung Fu Movie Stars and hearing secret codes being called out over the announcement speakers.
We were then led underneath into Nessie’s Lair of coaster lore. You know, behind that mysterious door where coaster trains seem to be either magically eaten up or spit back out onto the tracks. Tentatively breaching the door that says “Staff Only”, I had a fleeting vision of security guards grabbing me and giving me a swift inquisition. (After all, this is the area of “Cross this line and you shall swiftly be removed from the park and be allowed to return Nevermore.”) But as my eyes adjusted to the light glaring off hundreds of coaster parts and tracks, my fear was gone and my eyes glistened with coaster nerd joy!
Both Ben, who has only hosted one tour prior to ours, and Zack, who was supervising the tour and overseeing the content, began giving us facts about the ride, the history, and why the Loch is such a landmark coaster. I must tell you here that there is not much about the park that Zack does not know. Even I found it difficult to stump him. No matter what coaster or area we were led to in the park; we were always allowed to stop the tour and spout out a question or two. It is amazing I must say, that even with my bombardment of inquiries, we were still able to finish the tour relatively on time.
And that brings me to the main gist of this review my fellow coaster aficionados; if it is questions you have, it is questions you must ask. This tour encourages the curious mind and allows the average coaster guru to see what it takes to keep maintenance on each of the park’s coasters. At each of the Four Rides you are given a chance to go behind into the maintenance areas, speak directly with people who work on these rides everyday, watch the coaster crews hard at work, and stand behind the controls to see what it is like to operate such machinery safely.
I would also like to mention that you get your own personal ride on each coaster before anyone else in the park is allowed to. As if that is not enough, you are also given a Quick Que pass for one ride on each of the four major coasters after the tour is over. A little inside scoop here; I quickly learned that the coasters feel completely different on the first ride of the day and when I asked about it, Zack explained the answer.
No, I will not tell you what was said. That’s cheating! Take the tour and see for yourself just how different a very early morning, pre-crowd ride is.
Oh and bring your camera!
Have you ever been to an art museum and were watched closely by a guard who shouts “No flash photography” every five seconds? Well, you will have none of that on this tour. I could take pictures of almost anything and everything. It almost felt I was breaking the unspoken coaster law of silence by capturing sacred images of what is normally forbidden to see. It was invigorating to have such freedom.
Let us focus for a moment on the word freedom.
Arriving at the Griffon, we were given the freedom to ride up the service elevator all the way to the very top and walk -YES WALK- to the other side where a stationary coaster car awaits your perusal. Before you worry too much, let me assure you that your tour guide will make sure that you are properly following procedure. Still, let me repeat this: You are allowed to maneuver ON TOP of the Griffon, looking down and walking on the platform all the way around to the other side! I will NEVER look at this coaster the same way again. From now on,every ride I take will have me muttering to my ride companion: ’ “I walked there… and there… oooo.. and right there (pointing to a certain spot) I had my picture taken” speech.
While basking in the joy of unhindered coaster heaven, I must have asked a hundred questions about the lift hill, breaking systems, anything that I could wrap my poor stuttering mouth to spit out. I am still, in shock… speechless over the experience. Right then, looking across the park at 205 feet in the air, I knew that this tour was worth every penny and that I would be taking this tour again and again.
Going on the Roller Coaster Insider Tour was a chance to see all the inner workings of Busch Gardens Coasters that up until now, I could only use my imagination to fill in the blanks. Needless to say, it surpassed all my expectations.
Cost of my ticket (in 2010): $67.46
Value of the Memories gained: Priceless.
Here are all the official details I experienced in the 2010 Tour: (Please note that every year the tour may change and the below only relates to what I experienced in 2010.)
* Tour Loch Ness, Griffon, Alpengeist, Apollo’s Chariot maintenance areas and speak with maintenance personnel on daily maintenance/operation of rides.
* Learn how our coasters are designed, built and constructed from concept to opening.
* Learn cool facts about the construction/operation of our coasters.
* Park History is shared along to tour to include some of the other Sea World Parks & Entertainment Parks.
* Ride to the top of the Griffon lift via the elevator system. At the top, get out of the “cart” and walk around on top.
* Photographer on the tour to take pictures. Photos are taken at the top of Griffon too! All personal cameras are welcome on the tour, but can’t be taken on the coasters themselves.
* Ride all 4 coasters twice without waiting in line. Loch Ness, Griffon and Alpengeist are ridden before the park opens. Front of the line pass is given to all guests on the tour to be able to come back and experience all 4 coasters during park operation without waiting in line.
* Photo CD of tour is included in price.
* Questions are welcome on the tour.
* Be the first guests of the day to enter the park! (You get to be let in at 7:45 am folks!) Groups are limited in size for a smaller more personal experience.
The Last Day for the Big Bad Wolf, A Personal Account
**This story was originally written and posted on BGWfans July 30, 2009.
September 7th, 2009: Labor Day for all, D-Day for the Big Bad Wolf
The Big Bad Wolf had an amazing run of 25 years. Considered the best of its kind by legions of coaster enthusiasts, this classic suspended coaster’s reign of fright was now coming to an end on Labor Day of 2009. Busch Gardens Williamsburg Executives announced a mere six weeks ahead of this horrid date that due to high costs of maintenance the ride had reached the end of its service life. The replacement attraction of the Wolf would remain unannounced apparently. Now I love the theme park dearly, but all I can say is …BOOOO!!
Shakespeare once wrote that “The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.” Sadly, I could not smile and move on once I heard the news; nay, I wept and begged, and never stopped fighting.
For those of you unfamiliar with the ride, The Big Bad Wolf stood at a mere 99 feet; small in coaster standards. It made up for it’s lack of height by thrilling riders with a unique experience of being dangled in a black cradle cars that had the ability to swing the riders back and forth at a maximum 110 degree angle during the entire ride. A rippling motion of the coaster cars was the beauty of the Wolf, as it swung through a well themed Bavarian town and took a sweeping plunge over a river below.
The relatively slow speed of 48 miles per hour was irrelevant. Much like what the humidity does to the heat index factor in Virginia, the true speed of the ride was deceiving. Being carried on the Wolf seemed as if you reached speeds closer to 80 mph. This was due to the sharp banking while being swung at extreme angles throughout the ride, or as Busch Gardens called it, “traveling at the speed of fright”.
Frightening was indeed the key word with The Big Bad Wolf. Everyone knew it was the one coaster in the park without industrial-powered-airport-standard spotlights to shine up on all the riders. (Seriously, there is no reason to use the Bat Signal on any coaster folks). This lack of lighting left you completely in a pitch-black quiet during those late night rides. The buildings that you swung through and around; the trees that bent oh~so close to the coaster tracks, and the cold shimmering moonlit river that waited for you below that final drop, were only sensory dangers as you flew by.
Another frightening aspect of the ride is that it was set farther away from the park. The red tracks were found nestled in dense foliage; making the rider feel alone on their adventure. So well hidden was the ride, the isolation fear factor could be likened to any one of Steven King’s novels…no one can hear your scream!
Of all the fine coasters at Busch Gardens, my love of the Big Bad Wolf was the most intense and the loss has hit me tremendously hard. The thrill of riding it never faded over time. Each twist and turn made me laugh and cheer. When I heard the news, it hit me like a terminal illness or catastrophic loss of a dear friend and I went through the five stages of grief:
- Denial: “They can’t be removing this ride. It is a classic, irreplaceable; it has to be a hoax!”
- Anger: My hate was uncontrollable and aggressive. I attacked with swarms of letters and petitions; emotional, passionate language flowed to everyone I could think of. “How could you? Why are you doing this to a great coaster?” etc.
- Bargaining: The closer the end date arrived, the more panicked I became. I wrote letters with solutions, hope of saving my dear ride, begging them to please consider alternatives!
- Depression: No longer believing there was hope, I knew there was nothing more I could do. Crying, obsessing, I drove my husband crazy. I began to write poetry and artwork. (A sure sign that I was deeply distraught and inconsolable over the inevitable end.)
- Acceptance: I did all I could do. I gave everything I had to help Save the Wolf, nothing was going to change that fact. I began to make peace with the realization that I would never see that beautiful coaster ever again.
It was only after acceptance that I decided to bid on the final ride of the Big Bad Wolf; an idea I was fervently against at first because of ethical reasons. Ultimately, I caved to my inner demons and decided to risk my hard earned dollars for a chance to say the final – final goodbye. My goal was to be in the top six bidders at least and thus securing a spot on either the front or back car; the most prized positions of any coaster fan.
Surprisingly I won the 6th spot and relief ran through me. I would be on the very last ride of the day. I would be one of the final people to say goodbye to the Big Bad Wolf forever. It was a rare instance of crying for two completely different reasons at exactly the same time.
Now begins my tale of the quest for the first and last ride of the Big Bad Wolf:
Waking up early with a clenching nausea in my stomach, the dreaded day had arrived. I donned my outfit that was designed to show the world my complete enthusiasm for the Big Bad Wolf. I looked ready sporting a vintage 1984 “I survived the Big Bad Wolf” (complete with the old original logo on the front), hanging wolf earrings, a wolf necklace, and an actual Big Bad Wolf Puppet to carry around for amusement purposes.
OK, perhaps the outfit made me look a little unbalanced and demented to anyone not inclined to such a show of passion; but as long as my tomfoolery made them smile… it was worth it!
The day was gloomy. My husband called the day, “Pure Bummage.”
Dark rain clouds hung ominously overhead; ready to pour their bounty on all who dared venture out of their homes. No amount of rain could stop me boy howdy! Only the threat of lightening could thwart the operation of coasters that day.
Thus, I threatened all those evil clouds that they better not produce one single lightening bolt or I would find a way to fly up there and personally kick each and every one of their fluffy rain laden butts! I think it worked.
Despite the fact that my whole aura was as dark as the morning sky, my husband still came with me on this quest. His sworn duty was to act as my personal cameraman and designated cheerleader when emotions ran high.
We arrived at the Busch Gardens early enough to be there when the Germany (Oktoberfest) section opened to the general public.
And older fellow, perhaps in his late 50′s, stood watch at a pitiful looking rope that kept a hoard of drooling coaster hounds at bay. He shouted at the crowd. “People! Germany opens at 11:00 and the Wolf opens at 11:30!” No one budged. Instead, we all looked at each other; sizing up the competition. Who would win out for the first ride? One thing for sure, the fight would be nasty.
The goal was located about 150 yards away across the San Marco Bridge; the wet, slippery monstrosity that connected the two areas of the park. At the end of this bridge is a slight incline for those who are fit or a Sisyphean challenge for people like me. (Sisyphus- look it up kids).
At 11 am sharp, the man released the rope and pounced spryly out of the way. The crowd rushed forward. Little kids sprinted ahead and I growled in frustration. My 30+ year old-out-of-shape body with wobbly knee joints cried out in defiance. Still, I was set on winning. No snot nosed kid would beat me that day.
Then a miracle happened. This miracle was called X-box and Playstation. Those TV induced, lazy punks started dropping back. My steady and determined gate passed each and every one. Secretly, I taunted them all.
I saw the entrance ahead. A new-found energy overtook me and I doubt I ever ran faster in my life. The ground was slick and dangerous, and I prayed that I wouldn’t slip and break anything.
In the end there were only a few folks that made it ahead of me. Counting quickly to make sure I was in the top 28, I released a primordial howl of relief and then clutched my sides in pain. Looking back at the swiftly increasing line, I did an awkward victory dance.
My husband, who walked patiently across the long bridge that has just served as host to the geriatric 100 yard dash, approached me laughing. “You should have seen yourself! God that was hilarious!” He then asked me if I pushed down any kids along the way, and I denied the accusation. I did mention to him that yes, I had thought about it.
A staff member announced that they would open the ride as quickly as possible.
For the second time of the day, the rope swung open. The line of people crowded in. With much success my husband and I found ourselves in our coveted back seat, ready to howl and scream on the first ride of the day.
Leaving the ride, I was stoked. Even if it rained all day, nothing could change the fact I would be the first and last ride of the day. It was so worth the shin splints and sore ankles that were already plaguing my aging body from running like an obsessed loon.
After getting some amazing footage of the coaster, the bottom dropped out of those pesky rain clouds. My husband and I retreated to the safety of the Festhaus (a very large dining area of Busch Gardens) and relaxed with a nice lunch and a glass of wine.
The rain started to break, and we both ran out for more rides on the Wolf. All and all, the weather gratefully allowed us at least five rain free rides so far. I felt no need to ride the other roller coasters. I mean, they would all be running the next day; for the Wolf…this was it baby.
I had to meet the park officials at 5:30 pm in front of “Wolf Gifts”, the sparsely stocked Big Bad Wolf gift store found outside the Ride’s exit. The staff kept this information on the down-low so there were no onlookers and harassment from other park goers. So tight was the security around the Big Bad Wolf, I became slightly paranoid that one slip of the tongue would somehow result with me being banned from the park.
The winning bidders had to stand in line at the Wolf Gifts Merchandise Stand and pay their auction money. I proudly handed over the cash and received a lime green wristband; the brightly colored badge of honor. People around this area quickly learned that whoever wore a bright green wristband were the last riders of the day.
I was constantly receiving sly looks of envy and for a moment I was worried someone might pin me down in order to saw of my hand. In response, I fingered the little paper wristband and whispered, “Mustn’t hurt the preciousssss.”
After securing my final ride, I spotted a news crew roaming around those waiting in line for the Big Bad Wolf. In all my “Wolf” garb, I must have looked like easy prey because the news crew swooped down on me like a mosquito and asked me for an interview. The reporter, Jeremy Crider, a pleasant and professional young fellow, asked me a few questions and I tried very hard to not become an emotional wreck in my responses.
I heard shouting which broke my focus from the news crew. Upon turning around, I realized with horror that MY ride had already boarded and the gates had closed! My husband, smirking, was waving a sarcastic goodbye. I returned the sentiment with a plea to open the gates and brought forth my ultimate power of sad puppy-dog eyes and an undeniably large pouty lower lip.
The crowd in the station witnessed the whole ordeal started to scream wildly for the operator to stop and reopen the gates. Touched at the care of complete strangers, I started the rallying cheer of “BIG BAD WOLF! BIG BAD WOLF!!!”
EVERYONE in the entire station joined in the cheer until the gates reopened (strictly for wacky me)! Hopping into my seat, I started HOWLING at the top of my lungs. Then station crowd all began to howl with me in unison until the coaster left the station. I found out later that this whole event was captured on film and was played on the 11 o’ clock news that night. Bless you Channel 3. You made my day.
6:50 pm: The Big Bad Wolf’s Final Goodbye
The park closed at 7pm and it was well known that any rider in line could ride the Big Bad Wolf in whatever seat they wished, no matter how long this took. As if on cue, the rain began to pound down at exactly 7pm.
Now, since Busch Gardens announced they were closing the classic coaster, it has rained every single time I have gone to the park. Seriously, each and every time. It is as if the Coaster Gods are weeping for me. Either that, or the atmosphere could sense my mood and therefore, reflect my feelings in some weird mutant like power.
The final riders gathered around in a silent vigil, awaiting the inevitable. While trying to find a dry location, we all shared stories about our favorite ride. This included a serious discussion and debate if we should all handcuff ourselves to the coaster and then say some “crazy Big Bad Wolf did it.”
A few of us even took a poll of how far we could go if we started grabbing mementos of the actual roller coaster before being caught and arrested. None of us acted out our verbal and perhaps, mental rebellions thankfully. So it is true. No arrests were made that night. This surprised most of my friends and family the next day as the expected to see me on the news chained to the Big Bad Wolf in protest. Yes, it had crossed my mind.
The park’s general manager, Jon Reilly, came to speak with us during the tantalizingly long wait. He congratulated us on being the final riders of the day and expressed his gratitude for our dedication and love for the Big bad Wolf. He spoke with such fondness of the ride and sincerely regretted that the Big Bad Wolf could not continue to be operational. I looked back to my husband who watched it all with tears in my eyes.
Another park official also mentioned that the auction money went towards Busch Gardens conservation fund to help Mexican gray wolves survive in the wild. Right at the end of the speech, a thanks went out to all of us for providing a great contribution to such an important cause and after a long pause by the speaker, I shouted; “WELL IT IS A GREAT COASTER!!!”
A roar of cheers and applause arose from the crowd that had gathered around our little huddle. Darn straight! It needed to be said!
With that, the group photo of the auction winners was taken.
We were then told that the last ride would go like this: Riders would be called out individually by highest to lowest bidder. Each rider would then go through the line and click the turnstile one last time, then select their seat. Once all the riders are ready, the gates would open and the last ride would begin.
Ironically three of the highest bidders where a no show. Therefore, I went from the 6th highest bidder to the 3rd! I was not expecting this, so when my name was called, I shrieked and spun around in circles clutching my face in surprise if as if Rod Roddy said “Nora, come on down, your the next contestant~ since your Price was Right for the Big Bad Wolf!”
Skipping carefully down the rain covered, slick path of glory, I certainly did not want to look stupid and fall right in front of the news media. My happiness soon faded as I halted in front of the turnstile, the metal device never looked so menacing. This was it; no more will I pass this point. Tears began to well; butterflies circled my stomach. I forced myself through the barrier and looked at the empty seats.
Heartbreak. The empty stares of employees, the lonely dim lighting of the station, the smell of the grease from the coaster’s breaking system, and the slight echo of murmurs from onlookers will be burned into my memory forever.
I noticed that the two highest bidders took the front seats; as expected. Which was fine. I wanted my favorite seat in the back anyway. (The best seat on the Big Bad Wolf; don’t even deny it!).
I clung to the silver metal handrails, for the last time; I touched the pole that held the roof of the station securely for the last time, and I leaned heavily on the gate to peer down into that empty coaster car…..for the last time.
Emotions rampaged through me. Excitement, nervousness, joy, sadness, anger, and heartache; the sensations reflected in my eyes and face.
The final ride on the final car; the 7th car, September 7th, at 7:45pm.
The people riding along with me exchanged handshakes and expressed our sincere feelings to each other. The rest of the empty lines quickly filled with the other riders and we heard the dreaded words, “Boarding guests, please take the seats and pull down your harness over your heads so they may be checked for you….” The gates opened.
The world felt it was in slow motion as it had to be the slowest crawl of any group of riders in a coaster. My legs felt light weights stepping over that black car with its red and yellow stripes in order to sit down in the front right seat of the back car. The harness, felt like and anchor dropping on me. I looked up to my husband, who was perched above the station on a walking platform. He was filming me. I made a “falling tear” gesture and waved a sad farewell.
The ride operator shouted, “Is everyone Ready??” The response was a sad lifeless cheer. The operator continued. “Come on now, is everyone one ready to ride?” This time, we mustered the real applause the Wolf deserved; pushing our disappointed spirits away to give the ride true heartfelt appreciation. The coaster cars jerked forward and with the familiar sounds of the breaks releasing, the final ride of the day left the station followed by howls from everyone riding or watching.
As if my questionable weather-induced-mutant-power prayers were heard, the rain had stopped as soon as we all left the station. The Park had been closed for about an hour at this point, and the night was completely dark. We could barely make out the outline of the trees and tracks as it made slight dip out of the station and into the night to complete the little turn to the left and then to the right to climb the first hill. Murmurs of “I’m going to cry” were mixed in with constant cheers as the coaster approached the first hill. A few flashes from cameras were seen in the distance.
With the first click of the lift chain, tears began to fall. I sobbed and cheered all the way up to the top. I vaguely remember looking at the hazy lights of the Festhaus and the Autobahn bumper car house that was eerily Ghostown empty.
We had reached the point of isolation. No more could we hear the cheers of other watching us go up the hill. We were alone with the Wolf.. as it should be.
I felt the first car slide off the guide rail and begin to pull the rest of the cars down. We were yanked left through a German building, swooped right, and then left in a matter of seconds. Little lights flickering in windows were the only giveaway that a Bavarian style town was even there. I swore I heard a haunted wolf howl and a church bell ringing that was once part of the Wolf in years past.
At this moment I felt the true soul of the ride. Yes. I believe wholeheartedly that coasters have a soul.
It is plausible that people are able to imprint bits of themselves on inanimate objects once they become emotionally attached to them. It is all about perspective. The Big Bad Wolf was designed by one of the best coaster engineers of all time and had thrilled over 29,000,000 riders. With so much love and appreciation, this ride had developed it’s own distinct personality; a collective soul filled with projected emotions.
So perhaps in some way, the Big Bad Wolf knew this was the last ride of its long life. If so, I hope it sensed the appreciation from everyone that night.
I touched the side of the car and gave it a fond pat.
Swinging around the horizontal loop and slowing to a near stop as it turned slowly to the right; the last hill was approaching. A hush came over the riders. The jerk of the coaster hitting the lift chain caused us all to snap out of our reveries and we started a loud chant of “WOLF! WOLF! WOLF!” which continued all the way to the top.
I could see the lights of the Loch Ness Monster, the Griffon, Apollo’s Chariot, and the Alpengeist. Suddenly, visions of each and every ride I took on the Big Bad Wolf played in my mind. It was almost as if the Ghost of Christmas Past was allowing me to see various stages of my life.
In 1984 the coaster opened two days after my seventh birthday and I was there in line; eyes shining brightly up at the tracks. Hundreds and hundreds of times I must have rode this coaster from age seven to thirty two. Like the story the “Giving Tree”, this great ride saw me as a child, as a teenager, and as an adult. And the girl loved the roller coaster… very much. And the ride was happy.
Despite my tears, the pull from the front cars let me know it was about time to plunge down the last hill. Because I was siting in the very back, I experienced that wonderful stomach dropping swing to the right, then to the left before the coaster cars rushed swiftly to the bottom. In a blink, the coaster swung over the water and with a quick snap to the left and then to the right, and then to another pull to the left. …… the final ride was …..over.
It seemed like the fastest 3 minutes and 30 seconds of my life. Even though I cheered along the other riders, I knew that this was the last time that I would see the familiar glow of the approaching station house. I even thought about how I would never again experience the slight jerk back when the breaks locked down on the wheels below.
Oh Lord, how getting out of that black beautiful coaster car was so hard. I did not want to lift up the harness and I doubt I was the only one. Chants rang out for another ride.
No such luck.
We all pried ourselves from our beloved coaster and just looked at it. Many of us wiped tears from our eyes.
The whole house went quiet with contemplation. I leaned over and hugged the pivoting fulcrum that hung from the coaster car’s wheel assembly and said a mental goodbye. Slowly, the last riders started to leave the station. Walking over the bridge that allows riders to exit, I howled again. I shared twenty five years with the Big Bad Wolf. Now it was over.
Shaking hands with various people, the remaining crowd marched along towards the main gates of the park. Once we started across the bridge I started to look back to see if I could spot those red tracks in the distance and instantly I had to stop. My husband pulled me into an embrace while I quietly sobbed and repeated. “It will be gone next time.”
Glancing over my husband’s shoulder the rain began to fall again. As if the coaster called out to me, I suddenly recalled something: “Remember me and smile, for it’s better to forget than remember me and cry.”I have thought about this classic coaster every day since September 7th. Perhaps with the passing of time, I will be able to cry less and smile more when I think of my dear friend; the Big Bad Wolf.
Faded Tracks of Red
by Nora Marien
July 30, 2009
Written in Honor of the Big Bad Wolf Coaster
based on the poem: THE FADED COAT OF BLUE
by J.H. McNaughton
Oh the mighty Wolf sleeps in its faded tracks of red.
All lonely and alone, it awaits its day of dread.
The cars are all still, and what more can be said,
That the twists and turns all remain engraved in our heads.
Thank you strong coaster, for all the years of delight,
the engineers who made you, really got it right.
You always gave us thrills in both the day and night,
and we always enjoyed “traveling at the speed of fright.”
No more will we hear screams of joy caused by you,
rest noble coaster, I wish there was more for you to do.
Your fate was out of our hands, for if we all could choose,
you would stay here forever, and end our coaster blues.
Though you are not the oldest coaster here, there is no disgrace,
the feeling of the swinging cars, can never be replaced.
You are as beautiful now as we all saw you then,
we so wish that your time here with us, would never, ever end.
And even when many years pass, and you have long been gone,
Your majesty and legacy shall forever continue on.
We all say goodbye and in sorrow, bow our heads.
For we shall never see your tracks again in that glorious shade of red.
Remembering my friend, the Big Bad Wolf
Webster’s Dictionary defines a friend as “one attached to another by affection or esteem; a favored companion.” The Big Bad Wolf roller coaster was my friend for 25 years. And so, it is to my friend, that I dedicate this story.
When the Big Bad Wolf closed Labor Day of 2009, I was an emotional wreck. Being depressed for weeks and completely inconsolable in my grief, my husband, family, and friends were all baffled as to why I was taking the news so hard. It was understandable. My grief had taken over most of my life at that point. Therefore, I am writing this story in hope that my feelings will be put into a perspective that anyone can relate to. I believe we all have or will have our hearts terribly broken. Maybe this retrospective will bring meaning to those moments.
Remembering my friend, the Big Bad Wolf
I will always consider The Big Bad Wolf to be “My Coaster”; not because it belonged to me in a physical sense, but because I always felt a deep emotional connection to the ride. I had to search my soul in order to find the real reason behind my belief that the coaster was a living, breathing entity that returned my affection. It was a difficult journey but with some lengthy contemplation, I discovered the answer.
The Big Bad Wolf was not my first roller coaster experience. In fact; that honor belonged to Space Mountain; then followed quickly by an amazing adventure on the Loch Ness Monster. It’s funny. The Loch Ness Monster was built before I could remember and so as I child, I imagine that it sprung from the Earth like Venus from the Ocean. It had and always existed in my world and therefore, I considered it part of the landscape as much as the trees and flowers around it.
At the age of six, I was entranced by the Busch Gardens landscape. I was a magical world that held great power. Needless to say when I heard of a new coaster being built, I was ecstatic! Better yet, I would liken the announcement of the Big Bad Wolf’s arrival to a mother explaining to their child that a “new little brother or sister” would soon be here. I was about to have an exciting addition to my life! What adventures would it bring?
My imagination greedily fed my excitement and I counted down the days as if it were Christmas day. Ironically, that day ended up a few days after my seventh birthday. Fate had a way of connecting us from the very beginning. In my mind, Busch Gardens just gave me the best birthday present ever! My seven year old self knew that “as sure as the sun rises and the rain falls,… they must have held the opening day back just for me!”
There was no rain the opening day of the ride. In fact, the day was rather hot and sweltering in typical Virginia fashion. The night before the grand opening, I was nervously picking out an outfit for the occasion. I had wanted to dress up for the Big Bad Wolf. So when the day came and I put on my hot pink pants, purple and white stripped 80’s styled blouse, and did up my hair in side ponytails with white yarn ribbons, I felt ready.
This was it. The ride was here. I had already seen where The Big Bad Wolf was to be placed within the park. My knowledge came from a 1984 park brochure that also featured an artist’s conceptual drawing of the ride. That image of swinging coaster cars will never be forgotten. It might as well been an ultrasound image of my unborn child.
My mom and brother were excited too but I doubt not as much as I was. My dad hated heights, and therefore couldn’t care less. His lack of enthusiasm was what made the departure to the park EXCRUCIATINGLY long. An hour is a year to a seven year old. Please dad! I thought, Please- please- oh please let’s go! The park is open! The ride is waiting! GAHHHHH!
I really hated being a kid at this exact moment. I started to wish that Scotty from Star trek to beam me to the flipping park right then and there. Forget everyone! I shouted in my head. Just let me get to that ride!
It felt like a lifetime passed before we set off in our little white cramped Pontiac. In fact, I nearly reached tantrum levels before we were able to navigate the humungous line of cars that stretched down 199 and route 60; my sweaty palms pressing against the side window as I impatiently tapped my forehead on the glass. Finally! Arrival! Flashing our season passes to the gate personnel and then actually crossing the threshold of the park’s entrance seemed as tedious as watching Congressmen bicker on CNN. Maybe the world found amusement in my frustration; it certainly seemed so.
You know those kid leashes that parent’s use these days; the one that looks like a little monkey? I’d bet money that my mom wished she could have had one of those. I never strayed farther than 15 feet ahead before I heard shouts of typical parental frustration. Get Back Here! Stop running! I’m warning you!
My response was a huffed “Hurry up! For Pete’s sake, come on!”
When we passed Italy’s garden area, I knew we were almost there. In retrospect, I should have just strolled down the lane and cleverly stopped at the restroom because the phrase “Hurry Up and Wait,” soon applied to our predicament. Turning the corner, we quickly reached the end of the line for The Big Bad Wolf which was currently the middle of the San Marco Bridge. This was not what I had hoped to see.
A groan escaped my dad. My mom sighed and looked at me. “How about we come back tomorrow? This line is going to take all day.”
I looked at my mom as if she were the headless horseman. “I want to ride the Big Bad Wolf!” I declared with my chin jutting out and my arms crossed in defiance. My legs planted themselves like roots of a mighty oak.
“Ok” she resigned. “So be it, but I do not want to hear one single complaint missy!”
I wasn’t tall enough to really see over the concrete wall of the San Marco Bridge but I could still hear the Siren’s song of a roller coaster. I stretched up on my tippy-toes, my hand clutching the textured wall, just so I could get a glimpse of the Wolf. Eureka! There it was! The Big Bad Wolf was real! It was here; born into the world at last!
I could not have contemplated a more magical time in my life to witness the Big Bad Wolf’s arrival. Seven was the prime age of innocence. I still believed in Santa, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and pure magic. In my youthful world, fairies lived in my garden, gnomes roamed freely in our house; and when I talked to my Star Wars action figures, they actually responded.
Drawing nearer to the entrance my heart could barely take the blood rushing though it. I could hear my pulse as loudly as the coaster cars flying overhead! Pure Magic! I thought. The black cars glimmered like fairy dust in the sun; the red tracks looked like a mythical creature crawling through the trees. Much like a true love’s kiss in fairy tales, I felt an unbreakable connection from the Big Bad Wolf immediately attach itself to my heart.
It took three hours to actually ride the Big Bad Wolf that day and surprisingly, my patience never faltered during the wait. Afterwards, I knew this ride would be forever special. It was everything I dreamed it to be and more!
As a child, the Big Bad Wolf took me to a magical place. As a young adult, the ride served as a means to whisk away my worries and replaced them with peace. It was a welcome companion through life’s journey. No matter how bad my day was, how bullies at school taunted me, or if some silly boyfriend broke my heart, the Big Bad Wolf cradled me, gently rocking me back and forth along its red tracks until I no longer cared. I would close my eyes and just feel as if I were flying away from it all.
Still, not even the healing powers of my favorite coaster could assist me in the next stage of my life; the loss of a loved one. My grandmother used to share her words of wisdom by starting off with the line: “When I am gone, remember what I say.” I used to scoff and rebuke her declaration with: “Oh Stop it! You’ll live forever!” Sadly, I believed that. I had fooled myself into thinking that death was a fictitious tale to frighten children.
When my grandmother passed away, I held a veil over my eyes that shielded me from accepting it. My grandfather’s death however, was excruciatingly real. I realized that with granddad still alive, I could still feel my grandmother’s presence. Losing him was like losing my grandmother too. The veil was lifted and I saw death for what it was; a thief.
A few months after I lost my grandfather, the park officially announced the closing of the Big Bad Wolf. My world began to crumble.
It can’t be! I thought. The Big Bad Wolf is supposed to live forever! The naive mantra I had maintained before my grandparents passing returned in desperate force but quickly faded. I realized that this roller coaster had become more than just a machine of steel; it had become more than just my friend. It had become an inseparable part of my life and in turn, a part of me. If something as strong as the Big Bad Wolf could fall, then what will carry on after me? What will be left of us all?
A riddle from the Hobbit came to mind:
This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town
And beats high mountains down.
The answer was time. Time devours everything. I had finally come to understand what “nothing lasts forever” really meant.
It was almost too painful for me to ride the Big Bad Wolf after the announcement. I felt as if I was holding my friend’s hand at the hospital who was only given weeks to live. The fate of the Wolf was out of my hands. No matter what I did, nothing would save it.
The final day of the coaster’s operation arrived and after winning an auction earlier that month, I had already secured the honor of having the last “official” ride of the Big Bad Wolf. The day went by so fast, but just before my hand slipped off the coaster car for the last time, I was able whisper a soft farewell.
The next few weeks I felt lost in a emotionless fog until I eventually ran across a quote from my hero General Joshua Chamberlain. His wise words aided in my quest to find closure to a long year of sorrow.
“We do not live for self…. We are a part of a larger life, reaching before and after, judged not by deeds done in the body but deeds done in the soul. We wish to be remembered. Willing to die, we are not willing to be forgotten.
..it is the living who cherish what can never die; it is the loving who keep back their dead from death.”
Profound words from a great man.
My grandparents are gone, The Big Bad Wolf is gone, and in time, I too will be no more. Yet, if Chamberlain is right and as long we harbor the memories of those we love, then we do not walk alone in our grief; we carry their love with us.
I have taken that lesson to heart.
Therefore, I will steadfastly hold treasured memories until the end of my days; never to forget the love of my grandparents nor the welcoming sight of my dear friend, The Big Bad Wolf.
~May they continue to live on in the hearts of all who loved them.
Guess who’s turning 35? Happy Birthday Loch Ness Monster!
Can you believe Nessie will be 35 this year? I can’t. Of course, I am judging the ride’s age with my own as the Loch Ness and I practically are fraternal twins. My birthday syncs up with the coolest, classic coaster in the world and who wouldn’t mind sharing their day with that? I don’t. In fact, I’m honored.
Well I am a wee bit older than the Loch Ness; but if Nessie can continue to look sharp and maintain a wow factor, then I shouldn’t be too worried about life in my thirties. I mean, it’s not as if my hand crystal is flashing and it is time for me to be sent to the carousel for Renewal. (OK kids; this is a reference to the classic cult film Logan’s Run; and if you think you are a sci-fi nerd and have never seen the film- I pity you and demand you see it. Off with you now!)
My first memory of the Loch Ness was a powerful one. I recall sitting in my stroller and peering up to see a mysterious yellow metal beast way above the treetops. I remember thinking it was the scariest and most exciting thing I have seen in my two and a half year existence on Earth. These odd green metal snakes would climb up to the top and fall off the side towards the lake below. It had to be some magic behind this and I wanted nothing more than to go into that sacred tunnel my mom and brother disappeared into in order to confront this astonishing beast-machine.
For me, it was “Access Denied”. I was strapped to my little stroller like Hannibal Lector with a pacifier stuck in my mouth to silence my protests of not being included. My dad, ever the fearful sort when it comes to heights, was my relieved guardian. He would sit there, mostly sipping coffee with his 70’s style mustache and bell bottom pants, smiling at me. He muttered, “Stop pouting. You’re not missing anything. We are safe here on the ground.”
This reassurance did nothing to appease me. It wasn’t fair. I wanted to ride on that fantastical creature that defied gravity right before me. To me, this was proof that magic existed.
After my mom and brother returned, my mom asked me what I wanted to ride and I pointed with a grunt to the Loch Ness Monster. She laughed. “No sweetie, you can’t ride that. You are too young. How about the Little Nessie?”
I looked over to the kiddie coaster called the Little Nessie. It had a very small circular track that had these little Loch Ness Kiddie Dragon cars that connected in the center to a main hub. The ride would bound around the track going up & down and I suppose for many kids this was a thrill. I looked back at my mom with a furrowed brow. Did she think that this ride would fool me into thinking I was not getting the shaft in this deal? Really?
I shook my head and angrily pointed again to the Loch Ness Monster coaster way above me. My mom, frustrated said. “No! We are going to ride the Little Nessie. Come on, you’ll ride with your brother.” And so I did.
During the entire ride, all I felt was anger. I stared glaring out into nothing while my brother had the time of his life. Not fair, not cool! I was quickly learning that life wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows.
Later that same year, I strategically rode the Lady Bug ride in the old Grimms’ Hollow section of the park just so I could watch the Loch Ness Monster coaster cars fly above me. Every time I saw the cars go by I kept thinking: If only I were older. If only I were taller.
It took forever for me to reach that elusive height requirement. FOREVER. Four long years of torture!
It was the beginning of the park’s operating season and upon arriving at the England parking lot, I could see the Loch Ness hill peeking through the trees. Would I be tall enough this year? Is today the day? My excitement was maintained as I remained skeptical about the possibility. I knew just how deep the sting of rejection was upon standing up to be measured and being told the dreaded phrase: “Sorry kid. Not this year.”
The whole experience mirrors that of Ralphie’s wish to own a Red Rider BB Gun in the movie Christmas Story. As a kid you seeing that adults have all the power and control and you are just trying to navigate in their world the best you can. Like the BB gun, the Loch Ness Monster was a right of passage; a graduation to the next level of respect and abilities. You couldn’t study in order to pass this test. Nope, you simply had to grow.
The question of my ability to grow from last year would soon be tested when my mom took me up to what I called “The Judging Pole.” This lifeless piece of wood held the power to grant you access to the coolest rides in the park or to take them away. Much like Gandalf’s staff, the wielder could make the decree that “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!”
I hated that pole; that stupid, evil pole! I thought it magically caused me to shrink every year just to keep me away from my goal. With that said, I nervously perched on the stand and the employee at the ride used the loathsome staff of doom to measure my height. I vaguely heard, “You’re good.”
For a moment I just stood there shocked and not sure if I heard the man right.
I’m tall enough? I’m tall enough!! Holy crap did you hear that? My mind raced on the news I just heard. “Mom, mom, mom I can ride it! I can ride it!” I screamed with joy and ran in circles like a dog waiting to go outside while you grab the leash. Heck, I probably was drooling like a dog too. Who knows.
Mom was thrilled for me and asked me if I was ready. Ready? I thought. Ready? I have been ready for like, my whole life. Duh! Sheesh. I didn’t say that. It was more of a incoherent babble of “Aragah oh man.. ahhahh can’t believe.. heee… let’s go!”
I grabbed my mom’s hand and drug her into the line of the coaster. I was SOOOOO excited at this point. I could barely think. Looking around the folks in line I felt so cool! I was now a part of the exclusive club of big kids and adults! My thoughts rambled something along the lines of: I made it, I made it! Oh yeah. Doing my little jig right here in line. I’m cool, I’m awesome.
I felt so much older. This was going to be the best day ever.
I cannot recall much about the wait in line other than going through the turnstile and seeing the rows for the first time. So this is what the mysterious building looked like on the inside? I thought as the sound of the announcement spiel and the hustle of the ride attendants became mesmerizing. As quick as people got in the cars and the harness came down, the quicker they shot off like rockets into the unknown.
My mom asked me what seat I wanted. I had already given this some thought. If you are going to go out on your first coaster ride, go big! “The front,” I nodded with absolute certainty. Mom was hesitant. I had to reassure her several times but she eventually guided me to the line to wait for the front seat. Everything was cool until it was my turn to ride. The gates opened for me to take my seat and I began to feel nervous. What if I hated this? What if all this wait is for something horrible?
It was too late to turn back. I raised my chin high and walked through the gates to take my seat in the front car as if I’d done it a million times. Inside my stomach was about to hurl, but I kept it in check. No fear, no weakness! I chanted this to myself and took a deep calming breath as the harness was pressed down onto my shoulders.
As if they were harnesses made of Kryptonite, the feeling of being a big kid-adult vanished; leaving me powerless. I felt so small and insignificant in this exact moment. I realized that I was no longer in control; that I have to trust this ride with my life and I was about to fly 60 mph over a 114 foot drop and even be turned upside down! Twice! I squeezed my mom’s hand. “You can do it.” She said with a calm voice.
I gulped. The car took off, a slight dip out the station. The little glide through the trees was peaceful and I began thinking to myself that this isn’t so bad. However, when the first car hit the lift chain and I was looking straight up the hill, my thought quickly became: OH MAN, THIS IS WAY HIGHER THAN IT LOOKS FROM THE GROUND!
I started to have a mini panic attack. I scanned left and right, keeping my eyes off the top. I could see my dad below, sipping coffee and looking bored. Higher, Higher… click click…clack..clack… Each sound bringing me closer and closer to the top of the hill I had so long wanted to climb back in my Hannibal Lector stroller days.
Upon reaching the top I gasped. It was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. I was on top of the world! I made it! I was higher than anything at Busch Gardens!
Suddenly, I wasn’t nervous anymore- I was invincible! “This is awesome!” I screamed. Mom told me to get ready and to hold my arms up.
This was it, this was the hill! Over the edge…. My eyes widened… my mouth dropped… words escaped me at view below. Then I felt a sensation of falling; the weight of the car pulling me down, faster, faster, until it all became a blur.
My body began to process this feeling and my brain quickly decided if I liked it or not. I felt a smile starting to creep up on my face and suddenly I shouted out a loud “Wooo-hooo!”
The ride approached the second hill and first loop. Down the hill the train went and then all of a sudden, I was looking at the world upside down. This time I started laughing, the smile never faltered from my face.
Before I knew it the ride was over. Done.
I did it!
The train pulled up to the station and stopped. All I could feel was electricity. I couldn’t speak; I couldn’t even process how powerful I felt.
My mom helped me out and we were walking up the walkway to exit when my mom asked if I enjoyed it. My words exploded into a frenzied mass of syllables. “It was the coolest thing ever! Oh man, that hill… and the loops.. an uh.. and the tunnel was soooo scary!” My dialogue remained on the Loch Ness Monster through six more coaster rides and for the rest of the week.
I will never forget the magic of my first ride on the legendary Loch Ness Monster. In fact, I still have my “I survived the Loch Ness Monster” button and t-shirt as well as my plush Nessie toy I earned after my brave adventure that amazing summer day.
So Happy Birthday Loch Ness Monster! Thank you for all the years of joy and thrills you’ve given me and may you continue to create wonderful memories for decades to come! Cheers!
The Enchanted Laboratory: A Magical, Mystical Show to Remember
In the early years of Busch Gardens Williamsburg, the country of Ireland was originally the Hamlet of Hastings; technically medieval England. This area has changed so much over the years that I plan on writing its own tale of development, but for now, I would prefer to concentrate on my memories of a show called “The Enchanted Laboratory.”
I was still pretty young when The Enchanted Laboratory opened in the old Catapult ride building. In fact, I would say I was the perfect age for the show and found the music quite enthralling. Yep. Even now I can sing the melody to the main introduction and finale of the show; the correct lyrics long forgotten.
“Nostromos Mystical Magical Show; a feast for ears and eyes! A world of wonder.. ….something.., of enchantment and surprise! …. Something… blah, blah, something artistical, …. something…??istical…. magical, mystical show!”
Yeah, I know. That is not even close to the main theme, but never fear! I’m pretty certain about the details of the show’s story at least.
It all starts outside the theater where everyone meets “Northrup the Assistant.” He gathers interest by performing a spiel designed to lure and entice guests to come inside and watch the show. Behind the energetic actor dressed in medieval-peasant garb is a banner that advertises Nostromos the Magnificent who promises to turn Iron into Gold. After gaining everyone’s enthusiasm, the crowd is led into the theater to watch the performance.
I can remember the inside of the theater clearly. The air was always cold and the scent of dry ice was forever lofting around. Fake candles flicker around the sides of the wall, and the stage is dark and quiet except for peaceful music that relaxes the senses. The assistant Northrup is busying himself around the Laboratory preparing the stage for the arrival of powerful wizard Nostromos, while everyone settles into their seats.
Before summoning Nostromos, Northrup awakens several animatronic characters. There is a wise owl named Pelinore** (my favorite character), a sleeping dog-dragon Talon, and a taunting raven named Elixer. The basis of the show is given right off the start as it is revealed suddenly that Nostromos will not be appearing and it leaves poor Northrup struggling to perform magic for everyone after the main introduction.
There were several parts to the story arc. There was an interactive magic trick with two children picked from the audience, a disappearing illusion, a spell that allows Northrup to fly (with its own musical number I may add), and the attempt of turning iron into gold.
I would like to insert a brief note that I was called up twice to assist with the trick of a drooping magic wand and the ol’ head in the basket trick. The second time I was savvy to how to keep the wand from breaking which garnered nervous glances from the actor until he bumped me lightly on the arm and whispered “just play along.” Ah~ Good times.
The “Iron to Gold” spell was the climax and since Northrup was not ready to cast such powerful magic, much like the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, the spell backfires and suddenly causes the beast named “It” to rise from the floor. The special effects were amazing as the sounds, smoke, flickering lights, growls, and bright flashes of light all made the scene very terrifying and yet tantalizingly fun. Nostromos appears on a screen above the theater and scolds Northrup for misbehaving while he is gone but also praises him for his honesty. Then, as Northrup begins cleaning a suit of armor and wishing everyone a fond farewell, the suit of armor on stage turns to gold when the young apprentice touches it, (by the use of laser projections of course). The show ends with that main theme and the doors opening to allow guests to stand up off the wooden benches and leave the theater.
Overall, I would like to stress that the most important aspect of the Enchanted Laboratory was that it was a high-quality production. The music was well done and the whole show inspired my imagination. So, a big thanks goes out to all of those who designed, produced, wrote, built, acted, and created The Enchanted Laboratory.
I will never forget the most important lesson of the show: “If you believe in yourself, then anything is possible!”
**You know, I wonder where the animatronic owl Pelinore is these days? He always said that “Wavering Faith will not serve you well.” I believe in you Pelinore!
Remembering the Past: Ghosts of the Globe
I felt that I should open my historical travels through Busch Gardens the Old Country by beginning in the Hamlet of England. More precisely, I should start with the original show featured in the Globe Theater back in 1975, which would be The Ghosts of the Globe.
Granted I wasn’t even conceived when this show first ran, but I was fortunate enough to experience the show first-hand when I was but a wee tike. The show left quite the impression on me as I still recall how much I enjoyed the show; even if I was terrified through most of the performance.
Basically the story of Ghosts of the Globe centered on a young girl named Melinda, who wonders into an empty theater. Suddenly she begins seeing visions of fabulous characters that embrace her into the world of Shakespeare until the witch from Macbeth appears along with the creature from the Tempest who both bring forth terrifying special effects that scare poor Melinda (as well as my four year old self). By the end of the story, Melinda finds the courage and kindness to save the day.
It was a fun production and the entire performance lasted approximately 40 minutes. I ran into one of the actors who played in Ghosts of the Globe and he mentioned that most of the performance was lip-synced to a prerecorded dialogue and the sound effects and visual effects were quite elaborate for the time.
Thank you for your interest and I hope you enjoyed going back to Ghosts of the Globe at Busch Gardens, the Old Country. Feel free to share your experiences or memories of Ghosts of the Globe in the comment section below.
**With that said, here is a complete story found on the back of the original 1974 Ghosts of the Globe album cover along with the credits to the creators:
On the banks of Virginia’s James River, just a few miles from historic Colonial Williamsburg, lies Busch
Gardens-The Old Country. Screened from Twentieth Century by the Tidewater Woods, its winding cobblestone streets invite visitors to explore over seven centuries of our European heritage.
If you wonder through the English Village at The Old Country, some summer afternoon, visit the impressive reconstruction of Shakespeare’s Globe Theater there. It is on the stage of this theater where our story takes place.
Or perhaps, we should say Melinda’s story, since she is the name of the very pretty young lady that happens to be the heroine of our tale.
And what a strange and marvelous tale it is that begins to unfold when Melinda finds herself alone in a deserted theater. A wandering minstrel that appears out of thin air! A ghostly banquet, attended by ghosts of Shakespeare’s most memorable characters! Here are Sir Andrew Aguecheek and Sir Toby Belch, those clumsy clowns from Twelfth Night. Here is portly King Henry the VIII, and Dame Ford, one of the Merry Wives of Windsor. The job if entertaining the guests falls to Puck, the magical mischief-maker from a Mid-Summer Night’s Dream. And, to Melinda’s delight, she finds Romeo among the guests, still romantic and dashing after nearly four hundred years.
Then, just as Melinda is beginning to feel at ease with her ghostly companions, their merry-making is interrupted by the appearance of the witch from Macbeth and Caliban, the slimy monster from the Tempest. Dark sorcery turns the theater into an arena of sinister and terrifying occurrences. Even, Prospero, the kindly wizard from the Tempest, finds it dangerous to oppose these two masters of evil. In the great battle of sorcery that follows, he very nearly falls before Caliban’s power. It is Melinda, herself, with a courageous act of kindness, who finally restores harmony to the spirit world of the Globe and winds the gratitude of the theater’s ghosts.
Melinda’s fellow actors laugh at her story of ghosts and demons. A dream, they call it. Nothing more than a young girl’s imagination working overtime. Of course, we know they’re right. Spirits? Sorcery? Mythical Beasts? This is the Twentieth Century! Things like that just don’t happen today.
Or . . . do they?
Created and Produced by Creative Presentations, INC. (1974)
Exceutive Producer: Gene Bullard
Producer/ Director: Ken Lewis
Production: Ken Benge
Music: Sid Siegel