Oh, have I got a story for you…
Remember, my parents (mainly my dad) were the “fun=Satan” type, and the way to keep kids out of trouble is to work them to exhaustion.
With that in mind, sometime around 1973/74, Dad won a free all-expenses-paid weekend to King’s Island. Two nights in their (modest) hotel, entrance tickets for Fri-Sun, and spending money on top of all that.
Us kids couldn’t believe that Dad actually agreed to take us. I was 7 or 8 at the time.
The day arrived. Dad, of course, worked a full day, drove home, ate supper, prolonging all the joy as long as possible, it seemed, until we finally piled into the car, four of us kids (two oldest were “too cool for school” about the whole thing), and off we went to make the 40-minute drive to the park.
King’s Island was a Big F***ing Deal at the time, our Disneyland, and it had even been featured in an episode of The Brady Bunch. I was so excited, I was vibrating in the back seat of the car (‘67 Chevy Bel Air, if you like trivia).
Across backroads, state highways, until we left familiar roads for parts unknown, into the town of Mason, and then, like a giant beacon of dreams come true, there rose the replica Eiffel Tower on the horizon, and…could it be?…the outline of The Racer rollercoaster track, thin as a hair in distance!
I cried real tears at the thought of riding all the things I saw Greg, Marcia, and the other Brady kids ride on the TV! I couldn’t believe it! I was the luckiest kid ever! A whole weekend!
We ambled up to the lodgings, got checked in…and Dad said he was too tired to go out, and went to sleep, and there was no way Mom would take us out on her own, so there we sat in the room, though I did get to go down and see my first-ever in-ground swimming pool. Didn’t get to swim because I couldn’t swim, and none of us owned swim trunks anyway.
Up the next morning, and we had the breakfast from the hotel, which I think was just pastries and such, nothing hot, then we started off across the parking lot, made the gate, and Paradise opened before us.
The Racer…the old-timey cars…the log flume…oh my god, the log flume! We were gonna ride it all!
Down the main strip, full of food vendors and shops…”Will you look at the price of that?! I ain’t payin’ that!” - but didn’t we have spending money from the prize?! Wha…?
So we walked by everything, heading right for the tower, that’ll be cool to go up! Off I went, only to be snagged by the collar and smacked by my dad.
“Get your hind end back here! Act like you got some sense! We ain’t goin’ up that thing! Get up there fer what? Tah look aroun’?! I never heard of nuthin’ so stupid!”
Same thing everywhere we went…an attraction would be right there, and Dad would have some excuse for skipping it: “Line’s too long!…What kinda idiot would do that?!…Nope, keep walkin’!”
We walked all around, ate no food, and rode one “ride” - a steam train that circled around and gave a tour of the park. It was like Dad purposely wanted us all to see what was so close, but still just out of reach.
After a few hours, he said it was too hot and we were going back to the room. We did, and after a short nap…Dad had Mom pack everything up and we went home - less than 24 hours after we got there!
We knew better than to cry and even ask about it, and the cherry on top? Mom actually said, as we were pulling away, “That sure was somethin’ else, huh? Did y’all enjoy seein’ that big ol’ park?”
Only 15% ABV.
