Terror At Movie World

Well, today I'm supposed to be in Sydney, sipping wine at the Rocks, watching the kids clamber all over the public art works.  Or at Taronga Zoo, talking to my favourite elephants and trying to keep the children out of the cages gardens.

But I'm not.

Instead, I'm sitting in my nest, tapping this out to you.  Mr Catch has been under a heavy load at work and decided that he just couldn't get there.  And the thought of four children in a small hotel room, by myself was not attractive option.

We were all disappointed, so yesterday, as a small token, I took the kids to Movie World.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the great South-east of Queensland, Brisbane is only part of a greater urban area.  To the north lies the Sunshine Coast and to the south, the Gold Coast.  There is habitation pretty much from one end to the other.

Movie World is set along the Pacific Motorway at the Gold Coast.  From the road, you can see a carpark that is approximately the size of Guatemala.  And it is full.  Rain, hail or shine, it is always full.  Brace yourselves for an epic hike from the car as you will always have to park in the nether regions.

We had already purchased a season voucher, but had to have our photos taken and cards issued.  Thus began the main activity of the day.  Queuing.  It came rushing back to me why I have not been to a theme park for about ten years.  The queues are long and slow.  It was to be a lesson in patience for all of us.

All admin complete, there was a bathroom stop and we were ready to roll.  The children's eyes alighted on this.  And immediately glowed with desire.

"Please please please....".   They whined.  They begged.  They pulled at my leg.  When everyone passed the height regulations and there were kids the same age lining up, I figured "Why not, let's go".

And so we queued.  And queued.  And queued.  All the ditzy, little entertainments along the way - the miner's camp, the saloon goods, the posters, the famous western screen shots - were not enough.  I nearly started climbing the fences and trying to leap into the water myself.  Things had reached fever pitch by the time it was our turn.

The boat set off at a leisurely pace, winding through representations of canyons and old Western-style towns. You know where this is going, don't you.  The weeping started about the second bend.

"But Mama...I want to get ORRFFF..."

Panicked explanations as to how we couldn't, that we were TRAPPED, did no good.  The howling commenced with the first ramp up.

Whoosh!  Down a huge precipice backwards, then up, round, left, right, dynamite, gunshots...  The howling turned to fully fledged screams.

By the time we plunged down the last waterfall, my children were raw with weeping.  We exited, snotty and hiccupping.   My son, obviously remembering the discussions we have had over the years about making decisions,  made the understatement of the day  "That 's what a bad choice is like, isn't it Mum".

It took a long half hour and quite a bit of  ice cream, before smiles started to appear again.

We went on to have a lovely afternoon.  Slow bumper cars, mini-trains, go-karts and other gentle pursuits were enjoyed as the memory of the previous terror faded.

We endured one other terror.  Riding the carousel, my son realised he had left his back pack on a nearby bench. We knew it was there because we could see it.  However, as the carousel turned, it went out of sight.  then appeared again, then disappeared...  Round and round we rode, wondering with each circle, if it would still be there.  At the end?  It was.  Phew!

Late in the afternoon, we traversed the carpark and began the trip home.  They slept like logs.

A Curious Thing:
If you go through the photos taken at the rides by the autocamera that afternoon, you will come across one curious shot.  A boat that appears empty.  It would have perplexed many.


Not us.  We know it is peopled by three screaming children hanging on, down low, for dear life.  And one very guilty mother bent right over, trying to comfort them.


We didn't purchase it.


Yours in Bad Mothering
Mrs Catch
xx