There are constants in life. Objects or events that are the same all the time and in every place. Human beings rely on them as a safety net when life is too much to bear. In a world of chaos and change its comforting to know these few things will remain the same. They are the lighthouse in the storm. An anchor to hold us steady in wibbly, wobbly times. (Blatent Doctor Who homage) It's knowing that football starts in the fall, Christmas is the 25th of December and gravity is not your friend after 40. You don't have to think about or plan for it. It is just there.
Yesterday I had a shocking discovery and learned that one of my constants....my truths as it were, is in fact NOT the same everywhere. I will be very honest and say that this has rocked my understanding of the known and quite possibly the unknown universe. Since its unknown I can't be too confidant. It is safe to say that my world is off kilter and today I am drinking lots of soothing tea.
My husband Ted has been working long hours lately. Well, extra long hours, more than the normal long hours. As a thank you his boss gave him five annual passes to Luna Park. Luna Park is an iconic amusement park on the banks of Sydney Harbour. It's known for its boardwalk style amusements and for a freakishly terrifying gigantic clown face you have to walk through in order to get in. I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable Aussie explanation for creating a symbol so hauntingly disturbing that toddlers and drunks sob in unison upon arrival but its a mystery to me.
In the end the tickets were free and in my world Free = Fab so off we went. A train ride and 3 mood swings later we were in the park doing normal park things. Waiting in line to validate tickets, being sent to different line only to be told to go back to first line, finish there and head back to the line we were just away from. Yeah, different park sure but beurocacy is beurocacy no matter where you are. Remember those constants I was telling you about? Well, some aren't that comforting.
We get through the lines and ID pictures and we're off. Tessi is a ride FREAK it turns out and wants to go on everything she can. It's actually fun to watch her. Watch her I say because I'm not going on those damn things. I am NOT a ride person. Never have been, never will be. I've been mocked by people about this since the 6th grade when I balked at riding in the large Hershey's Kiss at Hershey Park. Even chocolate rides scare me. I can think of no greater way to accurately describe my disdain of rides.
We puttered around trying to find something we all can do. Something that catered to Tessi's thrill seeking needs, Connor's joy of random movement, combated Teddy's coolness and didn't damage my need to shelter from fear.
In the end there was only one choice...the bumper cars. A classic. Safe on the ground and no spinning until projective vomiting occurs. Benign yet here is the thrill of violence. The driver has the illusion of control and even better....the ability to extract revenge for years of grievances. With Festivus still so many months away I need a way to air my grievances and not end up in jail. Yes, the bumper cars...a well needed respite and fun family activity. We line up and and begin the requisite smack talk.
"Hang on to your knickers Teddy, I'm going to knock you into next week"
"Make sure you have a good grip...you're going flying"
Alright, not exactly playing the dozens but come on, there were kids around. Besides, Teddy has this new cool teen-speak language that makes no sense to anyone over the age of 19. It's tiresome to listen to and even worse to try and type.
As we stood in line I began to get an odd feeling that something was wrong. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. There was nothing obvious but.....something was off.
Then I saw it. It took a few minutes to register what was happening. But what I saw changed my world. My life even.
The bumper cars looked exactly the same, the large metal boot-shaped cars with bright shiney colors and the pole leadingto the top with a visable electrical charge zapping out of it. They were on a flat service with a center isle surroundedwith rubber edges to deflect oncoming cars. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that is, until the cars started to move.
People got in the cars and they started up in a loud clacking fury. Then the cars all moved in an nice, neat, organized manner around in a circle. Gently driving around each other while turning laps in calm gentle waves.
I turned to Ted and said, "I don't understand. What are they doing?" He just shook his head at me. I began looking around me and noticed that no one looked surprised. I thought maybe I was imagining things. I blinked roughly and turned back to the track in hopes that the carnage will have returned.
No. There they were, two dozen racing cars rambling along in straight lines that moved into, dare I say it, sweet curves. There was gentle swaying of cars as they make turns and feeling of the breeze as they sauntered by.
Sweet Jesus, I just heard some kid just apologize to someone for accidentally hitting them.
My head began to spin and my eyes are rapidly blinked. This is joke. It has to be. This is the bumper cars for God's sake.
No, no, no! This is not happening.
Quickly my mind raced to conjure up some sort of rational explanation for what I'm seeing. Obviously I am looking at a large group of rabid pacifists that have come in just before us. YES! That must be it. A convention of traveling maniacal peace lovers has come into town and they are having a breather from meetings and rallies at the park. Makes more sense than what I'm actually seeing. As soon as they are done it will be our turn and we will set things right again. The bile starts to lower down the back of my throat. I relax a bit. It seems to be an extraordinarily large group of non-violent people as it took several groups for us to get in. No matter, finally we made it and the Tencza Five were in the house and ready to reclaim and return order to the universe.
The music starts and we are off. Ted races off ahead so he can maneuver a sneak attack from behind. Cowardly sure, but emenslely effective as I am almost launched into the wall. Connor is confused by the whole stop, go and reverse pedal being in the same control so she unds up just spinning. Teddy and I take turns slamming into each other and I can hear Tessi's shrieks of delight. I look up to see her completely turned around and driving upstream against the crowd like red-haired pink dress-wearing salmon heading upstream.
While both slamming into and swearing at Ted I notice that Connor is really upset. She's flustered because she can't make the car work. I'm around her so I try to help and calm her down. As I'm distracted by trying to help her turn the wheel Teddy uses this to whack into me from behind and then we all stop moving. Uproarious laughter follows....but just from us. That's when I notice that it is all clear in front of us but backed up completely behind us. Everyone else is stopped dead and looking straight at us.
We are so smashed up together that the attendants have to stop the music, put on the lights and then have everyone get out and line up against the wall so they can manually move each car back into position. The Tencza Five have broken the ride.
I feel like the eyes of Australia all on us. It's the AMERICANS who did this. LOOK AT THEM!
Soon we were allowed back in and the ride continues. Connor is in tears because she still can't move the car and I see a few glares my way. Looking around us I see the cars returning to moving gently around each other in a smooth sleek formation.
This little voice in the back of my mind finally has the courage to admit the horror outloud. This really is how Australia does bumper cars. It wasn't a mistake.
The ride ends and we leave. I'm holding a shaken Connor and we head out the exit. Behind us is the name of the ride, we just noticed it for the first time...."Dodgem City" Dodge them. They teach their children to dodge bumper cars here. There simply are no words.
I feel like I just found out that Santa Claus is actually chain-smoking middle aged woman named Eunice who uses the elves' sweatshop as a tax write off.
Shaken to my core I post pictures on Facebook and describe my horror. Maybe it's us? Maybe we've been doing it wrong all these years?
Thankfully my American friends come through for me and their outrage is loud and visable. Bumper cars NOT hitting each other? What fresh hell is this? Ridiculous!!! ANARCHY!!
It did help ease the pain someone knowing that we are not the only ones. Oddly enough, none of my Australian friends have commented on my photos. Maybe they are too horrified to admit that they are friends with the crazy yanks that broke the ride?
For myself, I am going to spend today in full recovery mode. I am surrounding myself with fighting kids, tea, laundry and more fighting kids. I am grateful for them today; my reliable constants. I'm not willing to even joke about them changing.
My nerves just can't handle it.
