Timberman
Posts: 845
Registered: 9/21/2004
Rank: Gold Critic
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 5/19/2007 1:17:09 AM
Last Wednesday I had the opportunity to travel down south with the mustachioed one himself, TPC's own hrrytraver. You might think that we were headed off to some stand of tall pine to hew out a rough figure-8 woodie, ritualistically beat animal-skin drums, and practice smacking our faces against tree bark to condition ourselves to handle the most brutally out-of-date roller coasters at small, heavily-mortgaged, family-run parks. In fact, Rennaisance men that we are, the focus of our trip was the state of the art in Swiss coaster craftsmanship, the highly-anticipated Griffon at Busch Gardens Williamsburg. You can only imagine our excitement.
Ht arrived the morning of our exodus with admirable punctuality, and we unloaded the gear he would haul to his concert the next night into the majestic penthouse suite that is the Timberlair. We then set off in hrry's bulbous but fuel-efficient little band-mover and hit the open road.
First stop, ATM machine. The trvermobile's sound system was pumping out the vaguely sinister synth intro to the Hall & Oates anthem "I Can't Go For That (No Can Do)," which was far funkier than I remembered it being in 1983. I would learn over the next several hours that hrry's eclectic musical tastes embrace a variety of genres, languages, and eras, but with a strong unifying theme of moody electronica. Highlights of the mp3 mix included Robert Lee's seldom-heard tribute to his late brother, Bruce (the aptly-titled "Ballad of Bruce Lee"); a trippy, scat-singing Bill Cosby; and a cut in which a wailing Chubby Checker improbably channels Jimi Hendrix. Hrry being hrry, we were also treated to Bollywood dance numbers, Herb Albert deep cuts, Polish proto-punk, and some down-and-dirty vintage Devo. It was all good stuff until I found myself gritting my teeth through an eigh-minute Yoko Ono opus that mostly consisted of her yapping like a dog. We had to agree to disagree on that one.
After a brisk, uneventful trip down I-95, we rolled up on Williamsburg and ate our pre-dive meal at a fairly non-descript sandwich shop near BGW. The food, while serviceable, was sadly lacking in any colorful quirks that would enliven this trip report, so I won't dwell on it. I did notice that some guy stood patiently holding the door for us as we approached from like 25 meters away. Friendly folks, those real Virginians, even to two city boys whose combined weight was less than a respectable bag of horse feed and whose skin was two shades lighter than unblanched peanuts. I was feeling somewhat inadequate by this time because in addition to the aforementioned traits I had neither mustache nor beard, having shaved mine in the process of selling out to the Man.
After some confusion, we finally found our way to the ACE parking lot for Media Day. Our delay occasioned some concern in hrry, who had been sternly warned by ACE regional rep Erin Gas to be scrupulously punctual. Along the way we ran into a SUV-load of Pennsylvanians at the main ticket booths who had traveled hundreds of miles with their newly-minted platinum passes only to discover that the park was closed. Clearly our themepark ju-ju, as hrry would call it, had led us to the promise land, as we had actually met up with a real-life Griswold family. After heartfelt commisserations, hrry suggested resorting to firearms, while I suggested punching the first talking moose they saw squarely in the nose. We also offered to use the considerable clout of ACE to try to at least get them aboard the Griffon, but Mama Griswold was having none of it. Angrily waiving her platinum pass, she tore off for the outlet mall. We laugh now, but I felt deeply for little Rusty and Audrey in the back, whose bowed heads and heaving chests I could just barely make out through the Escalade's tinted windows. That is truly a disappointment that will take some considerable time on the analyst's couch to work through.
In any event, hrry and I collected our wristbands, t-shi
Message updated 5/19/2007 6:12:52 PM by Timberman
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hrrytraver
Posts: 1270
Registered: 7/16/2005
Rank: Platinum Critic
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5/19/2007 12:19:50 PM
footnotes by hrrytraver---
Quote:
Timberman said:
You might think that we were headed off to some stand of tall pine to hew out a rough figure-8 woodie, ritualistically beat animal-skin drums, and practice smacking our faces against tree bark to condition ourselves to handle the most brutally out-of-date roller coasters at small, heavily-mortgaged, family-run parks. |
apparently, the image of our personages most commonly shared amongst TPC members is more akin to the two codgers up in the balcony on "the muppet show."
Quote:
t-man:
Along the way we ran into a SUV-load of Pennsylvanians at the main ticket booths who had traveled hundreds of miles with their newly-minted platinum passes only to discover that the park was closed. |
it's impossible not to feel the pain of a misfire like this, but one thing kept blinking on and off in my mind: why wouldn't someone who went to the trouble to order "platinum" passes to an expensive theme park, obviously through that park's large and user friendly webpage, look at the damn calendar? i hope that after mrs. griswald vented her frustration by charging some huge terra cotta outdoor birdfeeder to her credit card while at the retail outlets, that the kids sang her a greek chorus of miserable whining all the way back to PA. she deserved it for such a critical oversight.
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hombre madero:
Soon we were speaking to an Massachusetts ACER who was on a mult-day BGW sojourn and who had already notched 16 rides on Griffon. The conversation reminded me of why I spend good money to belong to this organization year after year. |
he is referring a particularly interesting FEMALE ACEr. i highlight female, because female coaster buffs, while not an aberration per se, are rare enough to raise my fascination. this one, whom i shall call "belinda" to protect her identity, looked like a 50 year old biker babe and may have been drunk (by timberman's guess) at 2 in the afternoon. she gave no indication that she had left any friends or family behind in massachusetts, but merely seemed interested in getting lots of rides on big, new and notable coasters around the country.
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timb:
During the wait, we had a long coversation with another subspecies of the ACE genus, the proud father of a coaster prodigy who had conquered the existing holders of the major coaster records by age five. |
this was actually more outrageous than timberman makes it sound. this gentleman told us how he cut out of work to ride griffon, which seems normal enough (we did the same ourselves). but then he mentioned how he regretted he couldn't bring his "coaster-loving" daughter because she was in school. it still seemed normal enough. i imagined a 12 or 13 year old daddy's girl. but then it got a little crazy. he said she rode her first coaster last year when she was five...knoebel's phoenix. still pretty normal. but somehow in the intervening year she passed 48 inches and accompanied her old man on kingda ka, TTD, millennium force, and el toro. at age 6! he then admitted that he had taken her out of school before for roller coaster trips.
the thought crossed my mind that he may have been feeding her growth hormones to get her up to coaster height.
it was a new and strange spin on the little league dad.
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timbreman-
I was more easily won-over in this case than hrrytraver, who continues to deplore the "pushiness" of B&M coasters and found Griffon's layout abbreviated and uninspired. |
i've been resisting the temptation for the past year of posting a nitro review with a rating of "4" and this two word review - "too pushy".
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