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^When I first moved to the 'Burg (about 20 years ago) they were Busch Gardens: The Old Country and Busch Gardens: The Dark Continent. But political correctness made those terms unfashionable. Will the "new names" catch on? We shall see. That boat-of-beer pic was for you, Wally! I did sample this new "wheat" concoction while listening to the musicians in Grogan's--not bad beer, actually, but a bit on the weak side.

BGE opened "officially" for the season on Saturday, March 25, so I made my standard, sad-and-pathetic solo visit to mark the occasion. T'was a cold, damp, drizzly November in my soul, matched by a cold, damp, drizzly March day as I sallied forth, camera in hand, a lone traveler out to find a warm light to thaw the frozen reaches of my spirit. Was there no balm in Gilead? Would the laughter and screaming of the masses lighten the heavy places in my heart? Was there still joy following the long off-season? Well, yes. I enjoyed myself as I usually do at BGEburg, and there was only a light drizzle that day, hardly enough to dampen what's left of my hair much less my spirit, even though the coasters (particularly Alpengeist) roared to the tune of "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out." (Nothing on the Alvey's sojourn to Blackpool, though.) A pretty normal "day at the park," otherwise, but here are a few specific comments: In their enhancements to Curse of DarKastle, Busch has made an already great ride better. The upgraded show scenes are definite improvements, and that much-touted "fall" sequence has more force. Keep it up, Busch! The entrance to the train station at Heatherdowns is now through the gift shop. The big shop in Rhinefeld (with its Black Forest cookoo clocks, beer steins, and Hummel figurines) has been quite nicely reorganized and redecorated, with an expanded Christmas shop (well, if this is the South, ya gotta have a Christmas shop). Never, ever wait in line for the front seat of Alpengeist behind three 14-year-old girls in matching pick jackets who are busy eating green, plastic-looking, sugar infused glop when they're not punching each other in the arm or yakking on their cell phones. And now a bizarre interlude: While trying to get a picture of the Big Bad Wolf near the old Drachen Fire entrance, I had a rather strange encounter with some rather freaky looking old dude in an NRA ball cap. As I stood there, clinging to the black iron fence, waiting for the train to swoop by: FREAKY NRA DUDE: They shore do make it awful tough to take a pitchur, don' they? Y'all been on this'un yet? ME: Yep. Hello--I must be going. What this fellow was doing hanging out all by himself by the side of the Festhaus was beyond me. Perhaps he was another "sad and pathetic" solo rider. And now, in my obvious appeal for attention and sympathy, some pictures, with appropriately sad-and-pathetic captions. At the last, he returns to the one friend he can count on--Huge Hummel Boy. He confronts the towering Apollo's Chariot, the very size of which humbles him and confirms his lot as an insignficant speck in the eye of God! (And it's fun to ride, too.) and sweet Irish music. But the fiddler's rolling eyes speak volumes. In Ireland, they try to cheer him with a boatload of beer . . . But DarKastle beckons, and he considers leasing a garret in the topmost tower to forever join King Ludwig in his Dance of the Damned. But the rent is too high. The fluffiness of the lemon mousse in Aquitaine serves to, er, "enfluffen" his soul somewhat. At long last lunch, and his first ribs of the season. He is urged on by John, a TPR member, at his post. (When in Euroburg, y'all go and say "hi" to John.) He eundured 35 minutes of the antics of three obnoxious teenage girls in matching jackets, merely to ride in the front seat, while the monster mocked him: "Ha! No sad-and-pathetic, single rider line for you! Bwa-ha-ha-ha!" Next, he faced the cold claws of Alpengeist. only to face the tyranny of Father Christmas. ("Be good this year, or I will so beat you with this bundle of sticks!") He seeks the light of Yuletide next . . . Next up is the Big Bad Wolf--but his attempts at a new photo are shrouded in shadow and darkness, and disturbed by the presence of the freaky NRA dude. He takes the traditional first ride of the season on the Loch Ness Monster. Nessie's rough embrace serves to shake him from his lethargy--for a time. but his cheer is dashed on the rocks of despair when he sees this summer's concert line up. (Anybody up for a TPR meet to see Frankie Avalon? Didn't think so.) For a moment, his heart is cheered by the park's pretty new signage . . . The clock of Banbury Cross merely reminds him of the inexorable forces of time and decay--and that there's still two hours until lunch. Here, we see the sad-and-pathetic solo rider, after begging a cast member to take his picture, smiling sadly in an attempt to cover the desperation in his soul. Either that, or he feels hungry.

How about "Big Thunder Monsterhorn"?

^Boy, talk about a tough hoe to row (or something like that).

Thanks for sharing the pics of Wild Adventures, folks. I'm toying with the idea of driving down to Orlando from Williamsburg with some friends and maybe stopping at Carowinds and wild Adventures on the way, then checking out Busch Gardens Tampafrica and horror night at Universal (especially if TPR has another meet this year). Still up in the air, but we shall see.

^^Let the slap dancing begin. At least that's what they do in the Festhaus at BG Euroburg.

Hmm--based on my limited experience, I vote for the opening tunnel on Big Thunder Mountain Railroad at Disneyland--gotta love the colorful pools and bats.

^Seesh! And to think I wasted all this time chanting in a pentagram to request that the Elder Gods (I'm talking to you, C'thulu!) transport me there, when there were those nice men in the San Fernando Valley. Hey, Elissa, Should I note that my check for the plunge donation should go to "Team TPR" or something? Chuck

You know Kevin, I think Orkin Cybermen could help you with your Dalek infestation.

Can you get spotted dick on a stick at UK theme parks?

Hmm--looks like "brain freeze" has set in already. There's no hope for them now!

Apollo's Chariot--just fifteen minutes away. Fabio's Bane

I know what you mean. Perhaps it's the atmosphere of the place, the overwhelming hope it shows for humanity. Maybe it's the awe inspired by Spaceship Earth combined with the whimsy of the Imagination pavilion. Or it could be the power of Illuminations to inspire us to be something greater than ourselves. I know--it's the smooth, rich taste of ice-cold Beverley. Oh, yeah . . .

Git a hair cut, ya dad-blamed hippie! And have a Happy Birt'day while yer at it! Chuck

Disney decides to solve its "TPR problem" once and for all--with the new "Splash Mountain Hot Acid Bath."

^^Nicole has hit the big time!

^^Love the concept, but not the spelling: "feel" and "abstinence," please. But it is funny as hell--good work.

You know, I really think this TR needed more beer and nachos, Wally. Looked like fun.

Hmm, let's see . . . Wild Mouse (Santa Cruz Boardwalk) Motorcycle Chase/Wacky Soap Box Racers (Knott's) Corkscrew (Knott's) Windjammer (Knott's) Tidal Wave (Mariott's Great America) Willard's Whizzer (Mariott's Great America) Thunder Express (Dollywood) Cyclone (Southport Pleasure Beach) King Solomon's Mines (Southport Pleasure Beach)

Hmm--make that Mount Ararat, and you just might have something.

^Nice use of Chuck Heston, there.

^It is pretty dang cool.

Behold, as he doth embarrass himself on the boards again, with the work of his not-so-mighty hand, using tools dating back to biblical times! I give ye . . . eXodus! Chuck "Will he even manage two votes this time?" Campbell Remove your shoes, for you tread on holy ground! But then you can't ride because it is against our Lord's commandments!

They could sell collectible tapioca pudding cups as a tie in.

^^Political correctness precludes using those old names anymore, folks (probably a good thing, actually).