I took my family to Lagoon and we had an unexpectedly great time.
I knew we would have fun, because how could we not have fun riding roller coasters and eating french fries all day? But I was surprised by just how much fun we had. And I credit that level of enjoyment to the analog nature of our experience.
We squeezed in the visit just under the wire, on the literal last day of summer break. And I'll be honest, we went because I had a lot of mom guilt that led me to believe we hadn't spent enough quality time together as a family over the summer, between work and their various camps and the heat wave that zapped our energy and kept us all inside. That guilt escalated into a full-blown panic the last week of summer, so I took my kids to a water park, the aquarium, back-to-school shopping, and Lagoon all in one week. We had a great time at each destination, especially at Lagoon. Which, again, was a surprise.
I don't mean to be a jerk. I just had kind of low expectations for the amusement park of my youth after years of patronizing bigger, higher-budget theme parks in other states in an effort to raise roller coaster appreciating offspring. And, as is always the way, I had failed to recognize just how good I have it here at home.
I hadn't been to Lagoon in more than a decade, other than the time I dragged a Deseret News photographer to the Teriyaki Stix stand on the property for a story about the vanishing franchise, and that doesn't really count because I only saw the Teriyaki Stix employees and my rice bowl. Since my last real visit, Lagoon's section for small children has expanded seemingly exponentially, with a smattering of new rides and a bounty of shade trees, a true blessing for us on an August afternoon. We spent the first chunk of our day in that area and my kids waited no more than five minutes in any one line. I made the mistake of riding a spinning ride called Jumping Dragon with them and learned the hard way that children's rides are designed for children's motion sickness tolerance, not adults'.
After every kiddie ride had been ridden, we made our way to the older parts of the park to the rides of my childhood — the Terroride, Tidal Wave, the White Roller Coaster (which is now just called the Roller Coaster and is no longer white), Musik Express and Colossus. Having learned my lesson from Jumping Dragon, I opted out of the swings, but did join for all the rest after waiting in very short lines, and was awash in the memories of the anticipation I used to feel before each. I regaled my children and their cousins, who had joined us, about the time I cried before riding Colossus the first time.
It was at this point in the day that I realized I hadn't reached for my phone other than to snap a few photos and text a family member who was meeting us later.
At all those other, bigger, fancier, out-of-state theme parks, phones are requisite to check wait times, order food, book lightening lanes or front-of-line passes, get alerts about ride closures, or review any photos taken on the rides. A day in the park requires a backup, portable charger, and a backup to the backup, just in case, because if your phone dies, so does your ability to navigate the park, eat, or avoid four-hour lines or walking half a mile to a favorite ride just to learn it's down for repairs.
But at Lagoon, we navigated the park by looking at the map near the entrance. We checked wait times by walking to a ride to see how long the line was. To order food, we walked up to a cashier and told them what we wanted. There were no front-of-line passes to be obtained, nor ride photos to review, because there are no cameras to take them. We knew which rides were closed because we could see they weren't running.
And I felt so free. I could watch my kids' faces as they rode Musik Express — inexplicably their favorite — seven times in a row, instead of frantically checking an app, trying to book our next attraction.
Lagoon has its flaws, obviously. Some of the turnstiles are held together by duct tape. Some of the rides desperately need to be retired (Dracula's Castle). The smell of vomit wafts from many a trash can, likely from Jumping Dragon victims, and it's possible I may have stepped in some. I thought it was melted ice cream but then a group of very concerned-looking teen employees showed up with a bucket of disinfectant and spent a good 10 minutes cleaning up the splatter, which I don't think they'd do for just spilled ice cream. Also, on the day of our visit, two of the biggest rides — Wicked and Nutcracker — were down for repairs.
But honestly, these flaws contributed to our amusement in the amusement park, which was the whole point. It was far more amusing noticing the duct-taped turnstiles and the face my kids made on their eighth time on Musik Express than being buried in my phone, trying to make our day as efficient as possible. We closed out the park at 10 p.m., my kids detailing to each other their experiences crying before riding Cannibal but then loving it, spinning on the Tilt-A-Whirl and closing their eyes on the scariest parts of the Terroride. And I was reminded just how good we have it here at home.