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austin_dern

June 2025

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So, the announcement. The park was closing early, at 6 pm, because of incoming severe storm cells. They were giving out rain checks at the Guest Services desk. If we wanted to ride anything we should get there right away. And we should tell anyone we see about the early closing.

We gulped down the rest of our drinks and ran for Rollo Coaster, figuring if we got one ride in we were doing well, and found that other people had mostly heard about the early closing but were maybe less clear on the rain checks. A park employee came over and pulled the chain across the entrance. Ours was the last passenger ride for the day. We walked a bit around the emptying-to-empty park and all these rides battening down for the storm.

We weren't sure exactly where Guest Services was but supposed we couldn't miss it if we just watched for the big crowd where people were lined up. We also had to go to the bathroom but supposed they wouldn't have the whole thing emptied out that fast that we would miss the rain checks being given out. And both these calculations would prove correct: there was a huge line wending through Hootin' Holler, at the head of which was almost certainly Guest Services. At our end of the line were a number of people growling about the problem. The slow movement of the line was the first issue: how long could it take to hand out rain checks? Why didn't they have every park employee handing them out? And there was skepticism that they even needed to close: one woman said she'd called her friend (or something) in (name of southwestern Pennsylvania town) where the storms always come first and there was nothing there. A more fair gripe was from someone who said they'd heard management decided to close two hours ago but they were still selling all-day tickets to people without any warning they were closing early.

But eventually the line started to move. And we saw why the line was slow at all: they were cutting off people's plastic wristbands --- the ones you put on as you get a day pass --- and giving out tickets on collecting those. And apparently they don't want just every park employee taking scissors to people's wrists. Fair enough.

Later, in the nearly-empty parking lot, we realized the subtle genius of this system: besides making sure that only people who had day passes to the park would get rain checks --- remember, Idlewild hasn't got gates; you could easily just walk in from the road --- it also meant that rather than everybody in the park leaving on the narrow road at one time, instead, there'd be a steady drizzle of parties leaving as they got their wrists taken care of. I don't know that they meant it that way, but it worked that way. Despite most of the park's crowd having left before us, we didn't have any delays getting out of the parking lot. Or they wanted everyone to see their poster for the Princesses In The Park event in July (meet Snow White, Rapunzel, Cinderella, and Beauty).

The rain checks first show how utterly right we were to take Kennywood on Tuesday, since being rained out of Kennywood two years in a row would have just been horrible. It also offers an interesting point. We didn't really intend to come all the way back to Pittsburgh just for another day in Idlewild, except, the rain checks say explicitly that they're good for the September and October ``Hallowboo'' Halloween events. Kennywood's last year wasn't good for that; they worry about overcrowding as Halloween has become insanely popular for amusement parks. Now, though, we have a pretext to come see the Idlewild and the Kennywood Halloween weekends, which is a very tempting thing after all. It doesn't quite make sense to, but, they did give us free admission to one of the parks. We must think about it more.

As we drove back to our Red Roof Plus+ home, we saw the storm rolling in: a line of bright clouds and then a uniform dark grey underneath, with a couple hints of lightning flashes. [livejournal.com profile] bunny_hugger grew more worried as the storm approached (``Just because the sky is turning colors unknown in nature,'' I joked). And then it really hit, with a brief --- as in, under a second or so -- wave of hail and heavy rain. We found a Barnes and Noble and ducked in. There we looked around at nothing in particular, going over the Spark Notes to various books to see which ones we'd read for middle or high school, pondering the gold-leaf for-show collections of various books ([livejournal.com profile] bunny_hugger considered one of Plato, but it had a translation she didn't favor, and while a fine-looking book is nice she'd also want it to be one she could use). Eventually we sat down for coffee and tea, and I found a music magazine which had not just Trevor Horn named on the cover (it was just a one-page interview) but also a one-page interview with Ron Mael of Sparks. Ron Mael explained why he's giving that intense death-stare when performing on stage.

The storm would eventually abate, and we could drive the rest of the way home. For dinner proper we hoped to just get something light like sandwiches, but we were too late for the Subway in the area, and we tried an Eat-n-Park instead of Denny's again. They had vegetarian burgers, so that's all well.

On the inside of the door to the men's room they had a yellow arrow pointing down with the text ``Is Kennywood Open?'' I thought this was amusing enough by itself but [livejournal.com profile] bunny_hugger explained it's better than that: apparently, ``Kennywood's open'' is a Pittsburgh-area slang for ``your fly is open'' and so the question is relevant in the men's room.

That wrapped up our last day in the Pittsburgh area. We'd check out in the morning and head northward.

Trivia: In 1853 Edward Bulwer-Lytton sold ten years' worth of paperback rights for novels already written to Routledge's Railway Library for £20,000, £5,000 down. Source: The Age of Capital, 1848 - 1875, Eric Hobsbawm.

Currently Reading: Madame Blavatsky: The Woman Behind The Myth, Marion Meade.

PS: June 2014 In Mathematics Blogging, how that went.

Happy anniversary, my dear [livejournal.com profile] bunny_hugger. Thank you for so many wonderful days and happy experiences and the promise of so many more to come.


The biggest part of Idlewild we hadn't really seen before, other than the water park, was Hootin' Holler. This is not a Barney Google themed area but rather a ``historic village'' originally constructed for the Bicentennial and relocated to the middle of the park and rethemed to an Old Western town. There were a couple rides there we just couldn't go on --- the Howler, for example, is a Tornado-style ride that's just too vertiginous for [livejournal.com profile] bunny_hugger to ride and can be marginal for me.

But there was Paul Bunyan's Loggin' Toboggan, a log flume. And the day had warmed up, and the sun finally broken through, and ... Last year, after getting horrifically soaked several parks in a row [livejournal.com profile] bunny_hugger declared she would never, ever ride a log flume or similar ride again. She suggested we ride the log flume. This left me a moral quandary: respect her clear statement of last year or respect her choice on the scene now?

The Loggin' Toboggan has in the entry station seven hardhats, with the baffling sign: ``Mill operated by The 7 Axemen: Elmer, Elmer, Elmer, Elmer, Elmer, Elmer, & Elmer.'' This means something.

The ride operators were talking about the weather: it had been rainy in the morning, and then it finally started to let up, and then it started sprinkling again, and then it let up again to where it was now quite nice. And the Òoggin' Toboggan is a pleasant ride, through the tall trees and deep forest before bringing you up the hill and dropping dramatically. It also didn't soak us badly, either. We just got the little sprinkling of moisture on us and our clothes that makes a hot day feel better. After the ride we were sitting for something or other and I noticed the flux of people coming out the entry queue, the universal sign of the ride suddenly closing. We didn't think anything particular of this at the time.

One of the other Hootin' Holler attractions is Confusion Hill, basically, a mystery house walkthrough that seems a little unusual for an amusement park. [livejournal.com profile] bunny_hugger and I were the only ones in our group, which spoiled some bits where the guide's spiel clearly called for a good-sized audience. It also meant we got through the whole attraction quickly, though, as she showed off features like water rolling uphill or jars rolling upwards or a chair sitting stably on the wall. It's a very disorienting place to walk through since even though you know full well that the floor is just at extreme angles it's hard to not think of the floor as level and you notice you and the guide and everyone else standing at thirty degree angles. It's all quite good fun and the Darkride and Funhouse Enthusiasts association named it one of their top-ten favorite walkthroughs.

Somewhere in Hootin' Holler when [livejournal.com profile] bunny_hugger was first there a decade ago had been a mystery swing, where you sit on a stationary bench and the walls and floor and ceiling of the room rotate around you. We've been on them now at Dutch Wonderland, Blackpool, and Great Adventure. Sad to say Hootin' Holler has lost its.

There's also a little narrow-gauge railroad that runs between Hootin' Holler and the Raccoon Lagoon (where mostly kids rides are kept). We took that ride, sitting in the second row of seats so as to get a little shade (we took longer than we should have to realize we could sit on shaded benches waiting for the train to approach), and ending up between one very loud kid and the rest of his group. Still, it's a nice little ride, and we got a few glimpses of the back of the Mister Roger's/Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood ride, between going out to Raccoon Lagoon (where, from a distance, we saw the Thomas The Tank Engine performance going on) and taking it around back. On the loop back we passed within a few feet of my car in the parking lot, which was inexplicably thrilling to me.

Since it was warm and close to our usual coffee break time we looked for something to drink. Coffee didn't seem available, but we got some soda and sat in front of the carousel, listening to the two organs playing in succession and trying to date exactly when their music scrolls date from. My guess was 1980 at the latest. They'd been playing ``Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head'' earlier, and I warned the instruments not to tempt fate like that. We also got to wondering what songs would be included on a modern band roll. The best I could think of was Walk The Moon's ``Anna Sun'', which has the kind of driving beat and melody that I think make it recognizable or fun for band organs. We spent maybe a whole lovely half-hour sitting in the gathering overcast, in the middle of a park, watching the carousel and finishing our drinks and just enjoying being present. The band organs both stopped playing for a while and there was some quiet.

Then a park employee came over and asked if we'd heard the announcement.

Trivia: When Ransom Olds returned the Olds Motor Works to Lansing (from Detroit) in 1902 he set up the factory on a 52-acre site which had been the fairgrounds for the Central Michigan Fair Association and then the Michigan State Fair, before the State Fair moved and the Central Michigan Fair Association declared bankruptcy. Source: R E Olds: Auto Industry Pioneer, George S May.

Currently Reading: Madame Blavatsky: The Woman Behind The Myth, Marion Meade.

The Story Book Forest is a trail of scenes from fairy tales, and you enter it by walking into a giant book and being greeted by a tiny house with Mother Goose present. She was sitting in a rocking chair, with a goose puppet she was working, and welcomed us and encouraged us to be kids again, and told us to look for the giant as many people overlook him. And then we saw who she'd been talking to just before we entered: there was a chipmunk darting into and out of the tiny house, to a little pile of food offered by a Mother Goose performer clearly unafraid of typecasting. That the chipmunk would get to within inches of Mother Goose and not us indicates this has been going on for a while.

They hadn't made any major changes in the fairy tales on display from last year, as far as I could tell, although there was some evidence of fresh paint and other minor repairs on various features. This was most noticeable in the display of a princess captured by a quite large dragon: last year there'd been a knight on the other side of a small river to presumably rescue fair damsel. This year there wasn't anybody there. Score one for the dragon?

There's a small stand early in the park that looks for all the world like it had been a refreshments stand. It has a couple windows that look like they should be serving windows, and the upper level has pictures of a baker and the rhyme ``There was a jolly miller/ who lived on the river Dee/ He worked and sang from morn' til night/ No lark so blyth as he'', in case someone ever heard that one. It was a good spot to sit a while.

In further bits of nature breaking out at the park I spotted a frog sitting on a water pipe, near a statue to childhood and the Huck Finn display.

There's a cute little ship, the Good Ship Lollipop, attended by a guy who was dressed in Kind Of Sailor Garb or maybe an old Long John Silver's outfit. He seemed a little bored to us, although he brightened up when actual kids were coming through. When nobody was nearby he leaned against a tree and took out his phone. Aboard the ship in the tiny cabin was a bucket of lollipops, although I didn't feel courageous enough to take one.

The Little Engine That Could gets a place too, featuring a train big enough for kids to crawl over and a slightly creepy face sitting on the front of the engine. There's also a comic foreground-type train conductor, ready for someone to put his head on the empty shoulders, although when there's nobody doing so it inspires the thought ``The Headless Brakeman!'' (Headless Conductor is more accurate but spoils the parallel, I think.)

And for another bit of nature breaking through: outside the Goldilocks house --- which has clothes hanging outside that imply the Little Bear wears Batman pajamas, by the way --- we saw a young rabbit. Another group saw him first, actually, but we stayed longer, watching the tiny bunny poking around the edge between forest and lawn, and eventually venturing out from under cover enough to even stretch out on his belly just the way our pet rabbit does.

Hickety Pickety (``My Fat Hen/ She Lays Eggs/ For Gentlemen'') was there again and better situated for pictures to our tastes than last year. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves still have their house that seems to really be tempting Disney to notice them. I noticed that there were seven hard hats sitting inside the house even though just outside two of the dwarves were pushing a cart out of the tunnel, suggesting they're still not taking worker safety very seriously here.

The four rabbits for Peter Rabbit were there too, sitting in their cage, two of them with ears flopped over one another's heads. I got to wondering just how the rabbits are accessed; I couldn't see what side would obviously be the door and they must do something with the rabbits to clean the pen or for winter or whatnot, right?

One of the later exhibits of Humpty Dumpty, shown intact and sitting on the wall, which caused us to wonder why Humpty Dumpty is presented invariably as an egg when there isn't a word about that in the rhyme. I think we wondered about that last year too, and never looked it up then either. (According to Wikipedia, it's not clear why. Possibly the rhyme started out as part of the longrunning English tradition of Annoying Riddles in which a couple sentences vaugely describe a thing and then you're supposed to guess what it is, and also are were supposed to guess that you were supposed to guess what it is.)

We poked around the gift shop a little, but it didn't have things to appeal to our age range. We went back to the main part of the park.

Trivia: Johann Lincke, a German apothecary of the late 17th and early 18th century, appears to be the first person to have sold phosphorous as a medical treatment. The formula for his pills --- phosphorous immersed in silver nitrate or gold chloride --- was rediscovered by a French pharmacists, Alphonse Leroy, in 1798, who realized that a single pill could be fatal, and Leroy refused to reveal how to manufacture them. Source: The 13th Element: The Sordid Tale of Murder, Fire, and Phosphorus, John Emsley.

Currently Reading: Giant Brains or Machines That Think, Edmund C Berkeley.

Idlewild is smaller and less deeply weird than Kennywood, so even though it's an hour from Red Roof's successor hotel, we felt comfortable sleeping in a bit later, much-needed rest. There were no crises going on at work that anyone felt the need to involve me in, and a scare in which our pet rabbit had been not eating his pellets and barely interested in his fresh vegetables --- which can be the first sign of serious trouble with a rabbit, or just gas --- had passed and he was eating enthusiastically again and complaining how he's never been fed ever. And for a wonder we didn't even have trouble finding the place; it's nearly a straight shot on the Lincoln Highway out of Pittsburgh to the east.

We bought tickets using the buy-one-get-one-free coupon. Idlewild hasn't got a real gate; they just give you wristbands to ride stuff. One of the first things we saw was the Spider or Octopus ride (I'm not sure which it was), down for renovations: all the arms and cars were off and all that remained was the central post and the sphere that rotates to send the cars rising and falling. It was a moment to inspire saying, ``Aw, I wanted to ride the Lunik 24!''

But important things were working, and rather well. The antique carousel, one of the last ones made by the Philadelphia Toboggan Company (it kind of shows: they have multiples of the ``lead horses'', the most finely decorated horses on the carousel, representing PTC burning off its overstock of more lead horses than they had carousel orders for), was in good order and, better, its Artizan Style D band organ was working. It hadn't been last time we visited, but we heard a rumor they'd gotten a band organ to work. It's better than that, though: the other band organ, a Wurlitzer Caliola, was also working again after years and they were alternating between the two instruments. (The Calioli is much more calliope-like, without the drums, and has a more ethereal sound.) Considering how often parks will just play one CD of carousel music, and it's usually the same CD with upwards of fourteen tracks of ``American Patrol'' and ``How're You Gonna Keep 'Em Down On The Farm'', to have actual and diverse and not-quite-identifiable songs playing was great.

Near to the carousel is Rollo Coaster, built in 1938 and while a small ride also a fun one. It's close to the ground and overgrown by trees and manually operated in all its stages --- there's even a buzzer to warn the brakeman that the train is coming around --- and no seat belts or even restraints to drop down, just a bar to grab on in case you feel like you might be pitched out of the car. While we were waiting a kid ahead of us asked ``Why is it called Rollo Coaster?'', which nobody was willing to answer, though [livejournal.com profile] bunny_hugger said sotto voce to me, ``It's its name. Why are you called Madison?''

I'd noticed the Wild Mouse was rolling again; it had drizzled a bit earlier in the day and the ride has to shut down for some time after rain. Remembering our success with the Exterminator I suggested we see what the line was like, and it wasn't too bad, although since they were running only two of the tree trains it wasn't as good as it could have been. Still, we were right to get on the ride early: people kept drizzling into the line behind us and there wasn't any sign of that letting up.

This wild mouse had operated at Alton Towers (as ``Alton Mouse''), briefly, but unfortunately it was there after the publication of that guide to Alton Towers that I found at the Michigan State University library. I'd have loved to know how they described it.

[livejournal.com profile] bunny_hugger was delighted by an alternating process in the kids getting into cars, though. The ride operator and signs warn that you should keep your hands on the grab bar because of sudden stops. One group of kids would ignore this and get thrown violently forward at a stop that's just before the lift hill. The next group of kids, learning from this experience, would hold on tight and not be pitched forward. The group after that, having seen the previous kids have no problem at that stop, would ignore the instruction and go flinging forward at the stop.

The wild mouse twists to the side on the lift hill, just a little bit, but by design to allow for a rotating barrel to wrap around the lift hill and add some more disorientation to the experience. There's no barrel at Idlewild, though, and apparently there's very little evidence that there was ever a barrel at Alton Towers or at its original installation at the Wiener Prater (where it was ``Speedy Gonzales'') in Vienna. We tried to figure out if the track's current layout would even make a barrel possible, while someone behind us in line pointed out the tilt and declared that was the scariest thing she'd ever seen.

By now we were pretty well starved, and went for lunch at the Boardwalk Pizza, which is at the border between the park-park and the Soak Zone water park, where we had pizza and salads out of a sense that we should eat something kind of healthy-ish while we were on our tour. We also poked around the gift shop, which has a growing number of items featuring Duke, the dragon from Dutch Wonderland, which has been a sister park to Kennywood and Idlewild for a couple of years, although the t-shirts seem to suggest they think he's some kind of dinosaur, which, just, no.

The biggest unique attractions at Idlewild are the Story Book Forest and the Mister Rogers' Neighborhood ride. We'd been to both last year as part of the Rain Check Trip, although we can't go back to Mister Rogers' Neighborhood: the park is renovating it into a Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood ride, and it's in the middle of being worked on right now. But we could still go to the Story Book Forest, and walked over to it. Along the way we passed some of the picnic areas where the stuff from some family's picnic was sprawled out on a table and a squirrel was prowling around beneath, apparently trying to figure just what were the highest-priority items.

Trivia: At the Battle of Monmouth (28 June 1778), the British lost 358 soldiers killed and wounded, and the Americans 356. More than sixty on each side died of heat stroke. Source: The First American Army, Bruce Chadwick.

Currently Reading: Giant Brains or Machines That Think, Edmund C Berkeley. No, no, it really is quite interesting.

PS: Reading the Comics, June 27, 2014: Pretty Easy Edition, as there were a bunch of mathematics comics this week, but not about very deep topics.

We spent long enough in the Story Book Forest that most of the park opened, including, the food stands. And it was lunchtime after all. That day --- which I must note was in early September --- Idlewild park was celebrating Oktoberfest, with a giant inflatable German kid in stockings and holding a pretzel; in the food pavilion behind, the Root Beer Garden, were various German foods and root beers as well as a small band leading kids in dances and attempted theme song quizzes. Have you heard the theme to Rescue Rangers played as an oom-pah piece? We hadn't either, until then. I believe they also tried some James Bond themes.

What did we get to walk on? And again? What was in the Raccoon Lagoon that we wanted to see? Did we see it? What role did Kenneth the Page play for us? What famous television characters did we see in animatronic form? The answers may surprise you!  )

Nevertheless, we did intend to get to Kennywood for the evening.

Trivia: The original (1816) constitution of the American Bible Society required that 24 of its 36 managers live in Manhattan or the vicinity. (The city had the best printing industry in the country, including the first stereotyping facilities in the nation.) Source: Gotham: A History Of New York City To 1898, Edwin G Burrows, Mike Wallace.

Currently Reading: Images Of America: Conneaut Lake Park, Michael E Costello.

The Rain Check Trip we figured to be a chance to visit Kennywood again, and also to give Idlewild at least a half-day so we could see it in an un-rushed and non-frantic matter. The choice was should we see Idlewild on Saturday morning or Sunday morning; which day would be better to use our free entry to Kennywood? Consider that amusement parks tend to be more crowded Saturdays than Sundays. We decided finally to start Saturday in Idlewild, and get a Starlite admission to Kennywood that day, and use our rain checks for a full day Sunday. This decision turned out to be exactly correct.

What fictional characters did we see? Which of them were out of character? How many rabbits did we encounter? What about baffling nursery rhymes including a hen? The answers may surprise you!  )

Inside Geppetto's Workshop is a copy of the book Pinocchio. No idea what to make of that.

Trivia: In the late 1960s Ford hired Alejandro de Tomaso of the Ghia car design studios to adapt the Mangusta (``Mongoose'') sports car into a two-door sports car, Pantera (``Panther''), to be sold through Lincoln-Mercury dealers. Source: Ford: The Men And The Machine, Robert Lacey.

Currently Reading: Images Of America: Conneaut Lake Park, Michael E Costello.