Day 51 of The Year Apart (And Sometimes Not)

Today’s Challenge:

Pick a photo from your phone that you took in the last week. Write a reflection in the style of your choice about it.

Here's Davis' submission:

Jurassic Poem

In my memory, there lived a fear of animatronic dinosaurs. Of course, in my memory, they were real. That time we went to Disney World, I rode some ride the parents had decided was fine for three young children, not realizing the lite trauma it would inflict. We’d spent the day spinning in benign teacups, wheeling to great heights, but nothing prepared up for the frights of giant metal dinosaurs.

You can, then, understand my hesitation as we entered the raft of the Jurassic Park River Adventure at Universal Studios Hollywood on Monday.

I was a kid when the film came out. I loved the way it felt to be so engrossed in and afraid of a movie, watching it on the thick television screen at my cousin Kevin’s house, still able to flick on a light, take a sip of water, or laugh with my brother; anything to pinch me awake from that jurassic dream.

There was mostly excitement when the ride began, but there was fear. The Flight of the Hippogriff, a Harry Potter-themed roller coaster admittedly for kids, had already freaked me out more than I was expecting and more than I wanted Leeann to know.

We were in the first boat to depart, in the front row. One if the many small joys of an amusement park on a Monday in spring, besides the weather, are the very short lines. As the boat clicked up the initial hill, my stomach sank, again unexpectedly, but immediately soothed by the sounds of jungle creatures, the smell of water, and a gentle, authoritative voiceover:

“Time.... the ever-flowing river.”

We entered the world of Jurassic Park, with ultrasaurs and stegosauruses, all enjoying their time in the river. We were assured that, despite their awesome size, they mean us no harm. I began to feel a smile creep across my face.

We passed surprises, mostly water-based, each with their own 90s charm. My favorite were two little rat-raptors fighting over a Jurassic Park branded popcorn box. 

Once we passed a wrecked raft heading in the direction we were “meant” to go down, I knew we were in for a terrifying treat. The raft careened off, very slowly, of course, to the left into an area clearly marked with signs of “caution,” “beware,” and, my favorite, “no admittance!”

What followed were dark corners and no-longer scary encounters with giant animatronic raptors and the like. I was beaming like the boy I rarely get to be, in awe of what it feels like to be in a world where something so nostalgic, something so simply fun that can unabashedly transport me right back to my child heart and child mind actually exists.

The climax couldn’t have been more perfect. A wall of water pours from some unknown source and we are heading straight for it. All goes quiet for a brief moment, and then out pops a massive tyrannosaurus rex’s head, roaring, shocking us fully before a great drop leaves our breaths behind us. We splash into a large pool for the amusement of onlookers, look into each other’s eyes, and beam and beam and beam.

We rode that ride 5 times, fear fully conquered, and with a photograph to prove it.