Page 34 of Fish and Chip: Nine Lives One Murder
“Just smile and nod,” I advise, mentally addingdimensional rifting preventionto my list of park hazards. “And maybe don’t mention you’re with management.”
Although something tells me that the threat of management doesn’t scare anyone around here.
We also migrated our way to the Galactic Cruiser, which turns out to be a regular roller coaster in a darkened warehouse with Christmas lights taped to the ceiling—because apparently, space is whatever you make of it on a budget.
The recorded voice announcement proudly proclaims visitors are traveling at warp speed even though Georgie comments she “could power walk faster than this while wearing heels and carrying a banana cream pie.”
In Gold Rush Hollow, the Gold Rush Roller Coaster defies its name on every level—as if truth in advertising is just a suggestion rather than a legal requirement.
The big drop that once made it famous is more of a gentle suggestion.
“Rename it Gold Rush Slight Incline,” I mutter while typing on my phone.
The newly discovered Pioneer Express features miniature trains that guests can actually drive themselves around a track. It would be charming if half the trains weren’t missing wheels and one didn’t haveSend Helpetched into its side.
The animal carousel in Pawprint Hollow fares slightly better, though half the animals are missing, leaving only their desolate habitats.
Georgie climbs onto the statue of a giraffe with a missing neck.
“I’m riding the invisible giraffe!” she calls out triumphantly. “Much more exclusive than your visible zebra, Josie!”
“Yes, nothing says luxury like imaginary endangered species,” I reply, clinging to the zebra I’m currently straddling, which is making alarming creaking sounds with each rotation.
Wild Safari Adventure gives us Brandon, a college student turned safari guide who claims we’re looking at a rare three-eared elephant who dances interpretively. When I raise an eyebrow, he leans in and whispers, “I’m a dance therapy major. They gave me a script covered in mustard.”
The true disaster strikes in Bayou Bend Hollow, where we board the Pirates Plunder boat ride. Everything seems fine until we reach the animatronic pirate scene, where suddenly the mechanical wenches begin to malfunction spectacularly in ways that would make even a sailor blush, not to mention violate several decency laws.
Their costume bodices, apparently held together with aging rubber bands and wishful thinking, suddenly give way, causing a mechanical wardrobe malfunction that has Ree covering her eyes and Georgie giving a standing ovation. It’s basically boobs galore.
“They’ve got a decent set, I’ll give them that,” Georgie comments appreciatively, unfazed by mechanical nudity. “Though the right one is listing to port something awful.”
“Georgie.” Ree swats her.
“What? I’m just making a nautical observation!” Georgie defends with her eyes innocently wide. “I was a sailing instructor in my youth. Before the restraining order from the yacht club.”
We also discover Bayou Splash Adventure, a log flume ride where the promised splash is more of a disappointing sprinkle that wouldn’t dampen a paper towel. The animatronic animals along the route appear to have been repurposed from other rides, leading to scenes of raccoons in pirate hats and bears in space helmets singing a confused medley of songs that make no thematic sense whatsoever. I make a note to start drug testing the ride designers.
“It’s like they created a ride by emptying thelost and found box,” I observe as we pass a moose wearing a princess tiara, which is probably the most normal thing we’ve seen all day.
At Magical Marvels Hollow’s Musical Menagerie,mechanical birds in Santa hats warble out-of-tune Christmas songs. It’s September. One animatronic parrot loops “Merry, merry, merry, merry” until I feel like I’m losing brain cells.
Everwhirl Hollow holds the true nightmare: The Global Greeting Tour, a dark boat ride with dolls representing various countries, all stitched together with panic and duct tape. A Dutch girl with arms that look as if they belonged to a werewolf waves at us as if she’s seen haunted places and done haunted things no doll should dream about.
“I feel spiritually unwell,” Ree whispers.
Next up—Gears & Dreams Hollow. We climb aboard Invention Innovation,a retro-futuristic journey into the future imagined by people in the 1950s. It features steam-powered microwaves, toasters fueled by plutonium, and broken light shows.
“They thought we’d have flying cars by now,” I sigh. “We got social media and pirate boob malfunctions.”
“Hooray for boobs!” Georgie cheers as our pod jerks to a stop.
We stagger off our final ride—a haunted house in Magical Marvels Hollow where the so-called ghosts are clearly sheets on strings with flashlights underneath them representing the world’s laziest supernatural encounter.
I pull out my phone and start a new note titled URGENT REPAIRS. The list grows longer with each tap of my finger, stretching into a digital scroll of mechanical nightmares, safety hazards, and animatronic indignities that could easily garner us a triple X rating.
“So, what did you think?” Georgie asks, adjusting her now slightly crooked roller coaster hat that’s somehow survived this entire ordeal. Come to think of it, that roller coaster on her head might be the only functioning ride in the entire park.
“What do I think?” I look up from my phone, where I’ve just added pirates flashing unsuspecting families to my list of required fixes. The sound of distant screaming (whether from delight or terror is unclear) echoes from somewhere in the park, mingling with the grinding of ancient gears, the splash of malfunctioning water features, and what might be the triumphant meows of cats beginning their rodent crusade.
