by Nathan Lindberg
Inevitably, most family outings begin by waiting. “Did you get the sun block?” “I’ll go get it.” “What about water? Do we have at least three bottles?” “I’ll check.” “We might need some aspirin. We always need aspirin.” “I think we have a bottle in the car. Why don’t you check?” My wife and I take turns waiting at the door, then outside the door, then at the car, and even in the car while it’s running as we take turns rushing back into our house for more crucial supplies. Finally ready, at least one of us says, “I feel like I’m forgetting something.” And then we realize our kids are still in bed.
Last week at the amusement park I was marveling at fellow parent preparations. Mothers and fathers with belts that held two or three or even more water bottles and a fanny pack full of snacks. Strollers with multiple pockets stuffed with a Walmart inventory of clothes, moist towelettes, ointments, and, of course, the camera equipment. Every stage of every outing must be recorded, and that is why dozens of parents lined the edge of the S-Car Go Happy Train with video cameras, phones, and digital 3D stills, all ready to record. It was essential that their child’s first trip in a giant smiling purple snail be recorded then later filed under Amusement Park Part XXI, so someday it could remind a grown up infant that childhood was not as carefree as imagined.
The most bored of all the purple snail riding children was one little boy who brought a total support team with him. Grandma, grandpa, mom, dad, and an odd aunt or cousin or something were all kept at bay by the S-Car-Go perimeter fence and the maximum three-foot entry requirement. All of them were either documenting the historic ride or making preparations for the journey’s culmination, taking out water bottles, and baggies of healthy-type snacks. As soon as the boy disembarked, not even the three-foot limit could keep the support team out.
Grandma was the first to arrive, showing that she was much more diligent than the others by immediately offering the boy sports drink and a fun pack of “kids” trail mix. Mom, not to be outdone, asked the boy if he was too hot, or perhaps to cold, or perhaps his hat was too tight or his glasses fogged. Dad was dolefully still documenting and grandpa was arguing that trail mix was just candy deceivingly labeled. Then the unthinkable occurred. As the boy stepped out of the vehicle, his foot caught the purple snail’s happy lady bug companion, and the boy, unable to keep his balance, fell.
The support team stood in stunned silence as the world stopped for that one quiet moment when a child draws a big breath for the anticipated wail. When the cry came, the support team overcame their shock and immediately began procedure. The mother was first to the boy for inspection, but the grandmother was not to be outdone. She had a wet cloth out the moment the mother discovered a redden palm. She called out for ice, and the aunt-cousin, who up to that point had been pushed out of the front line, was sent on a mission. Meanwhile the father scrambled to put away his recording gear. The situation was far to grave for recording, besides memories should be happy.
The grandpa announced the trip was over and they needed to go to home that instant. The grandmother upped him by suggesting a doctor, and the mother trumped them all by bringing up the emergency room. As they argued they stood the boy up for further inspection, nose whipping, brushing off clothes, and words of comfort. The grandpa began evacuation procedures while the grandma produced three sizes of band aids and disinfectant. As the first aid was administered, the aunt returned with a bag of ice and a look of concern. She suggested the support team move off the S-Car Go train tracks so the ride could continue for other children. There was resentment against the aunt, but when the support team noticed that all the people waiting in line were frowning at them, they consented.
As the support team moved their patient outside the perimeter fencing, I got my camera ready to record my seven year old boarding what looked like a giant drunk weasel, grinning like pay day. I could no longer see the support team. I was focused on the action shot, where the anthropomorphic creature cars went over a bump. I had no time to look back, but I couldn’t help but hear the aunt’s suggestion, so horrifying the team was once again stunned into silence. “It’s just a scratch. He’ll probably be okay. Besides, we just got hear 10 minutes ago.” The mother was the first to admit the redden palm wasn’t so bad. In fact it was more of a pink. The grandmother thought there might be broken bones, unobservable from the outside, but the boy was able to move his hand freely when asked to. The grandpa was all for “better safe than sorry,” pointing out that all of the rides in the park had fatal flaws, and were basically death traps. But the father pointed out that he had just charged all his batteries and bought new memory cards. It would be a shame to leave at 9:30 a.m.
Slowly, the team had to admit, the emergency was not as grave as once imagined, although the grandmother declared it an omen of what potential dangers lie ahead and how none of them could afford to let down their guard. After everyone concurred with her, the mother pronounced the S-Car Go ride far too dangerous to dare repeating. All agreed. They would try the carousel next. It allowed adults inside and the grandfather quickly stated he would be the one by the boy’s side, but the mother said it should be her and the grandmother did not agree with either of them. I heard the voices fade, still arguing as they made their way across the park.
Having captured the S-Car Go whoop-tee-do on film, including my daughter’s smile, I felt fulfilled for the moment, even the day. It was my second daughter’s third trip to the park and I had already filed sufficient memories away. The shots I had been taking were just assurance, or perhaps to chronicle my daughter’s growth in the last six months. I reached down to my fanny pack in between the matching water bottles and took out a bag of tail mix. Chocolates and gummy bears, maybe the grandpa was right, but I needed a candy boost. Amusement parks are hard work.
by Nathan Lindberg
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