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10. Laipaka�s Gittin Married It�s almost over. I gets better from here. Santa Claus Land and Holiday World, it�s the same place if you ever need to know. It�s all too real, a theme park in the town of Santa Claus, Indiana, and the parks� bigger than the town. Our admission was free, and we got a free night�s stay at the local Red Roof Inn. We also got free bratwursts, which none of us took advantage of. It was otherwise maybe $35 a ticket back in the day, which could have made a person think the park might offer some seriously exciting fun. We walked in and met an enormous ceramic Christian Nativity, larger than life, directly opposing an equally enormous flatboard cutout of Santa Claus and his reindeer. Christmas Land, or Xmas Land (depending on which way we were looking), was the first stage of the park, and it all worked out to offend no one, see, because the Nativity maintained holy reverence amidst the relentless material pleasures Santa had to offer. I don�t remember any actual rides in Christmas Land, or even anything else related to Christmas for that matter. The holiday feel got us through the gates and that was pretty much it. Kind of like a liquor store. But next up was Thanksgiving World, featuring a �historically accurate� Wack-A-Mole and all-you-can-drink complementary fountain drinks. No rides of note, maybe a Carousel or a Duck Train carnival ride. Painted on a wall, an Indian with a hatchet and a smiling turkey waved goodbye as we journeyed into Fourth of July Universe, which boasted bumper cars and a vaguely patriotic ride resembling the Scrambler. By the drinking fountain, there was some kind of war memorial on a plaque. There was also a red, white, and blue clown setting off strings of Black Cats. All too real. It looked like a gas station with no pumps and only three walls, so we stopped at the gift barn to buy novelty magnets. �I�m buying the cow with �You Udder be at Holiday World� on its ass,� said Michael. Eight dollars. He later suffered from buyer�s remorse. I bought a �3 Muskateers� candy bar that melted before I could eat it. Two dollars gone forever. Tim was going to buy a clearance-priced Hulk Hogan Christmas ornament, but he wisely backed out. Jason would have bought a seat shirt featuring Bugs Bunny and Yosemite Sam driving Santa Claus� sleigh, but it was $47. Keep the fountain drinks coming. Maybe it doesn�t get any better. We hit the wax museum next only because it was air-conditioned. We were the only ones inside. I took Jason�s picture with local favorite Abraham Lincoln, who was missing an arm and falling out of his chair. �Man. Dwight D. Eisenhower looks like shit,� Jason noted. We decided they were just mannequins with makeup and wigs, no wax involved. It was like an elementary school History Club exhibit or something, with hints of a yard sale. After that a giant ceramic bunny welcomed us to Easter Place, which we hurried through �on account of the heat�. It had a ferris wheel and payphones. We pushed on to Holiday World�s much acclaimed �Splashin� Safari�, where we watched Russian dwarves in jester costumes lazily wrestle and dance in six inches of water. There were eight other people in the bleachers. �Those dwarves are struggling to breathe,� I observed. That�s it. We�d been at the park twenty four minutes and we�d seen it all except a condemned wooden roller coaster with a ninety minute wait and the theatre we were scheduled to play. �What about Halloween,� Tim asked, shielding his eyes from harsh sunlight. �Thanksgiving totally rides bitch to Halloween.� The dwarf show was over and a guy was getting ready to do some trick diving in the pool to our left. �Just think,� Tim added. �These guys left their families and friends, they gave up everything for the chance to live in America and work at Holiday World.� We sat there in silence with eight elderly thrillseekers, sweating like chickens. �Normally I�d stay to be nice,� Jason said. �But I think they�d rather us leave than stay. If more people show up I�m pretty sure this guy�s gonna throw down his goggles and scream �You people are greedy bastards!��
So the misery drove us to the Holiday World theatre, a smallish place with nice seats, where we were 41 minutes early for a �Remember the 50s?� act:
Eight-thirty sharp, shut the beast down. We were to be the �music & fun� of Summer Daze: �Rival bands Everdown and Shag Bark Hickory face off to impress girls at a Back-To-School Sock Hop.� This is what Scrote�s 4-H club had signed us up for. So we spent the 41 minutes trying to remember the 50s to no avail. We agreed practice would only make us nervous, or as Michael put it, �Practice would only make us care.� The festive clock finally tolled six and the other shows took off to produce a blur of pink lemonade and people removing their glasses in order to become cool. The place was nonetheless full of actual people actually enjoying themselves. As Jason noted, the theatre was �packed with hellbent small town parents who refused to acknowledge the suck factor of Holiday World.� �You have this guy who�s been planning this day for over a year,� he observed. �No matter how terrible the place is, there�s no way in fiery hell this guy and everyone who�s with him isn�t going to have a spectacular time. It�s the best vacation on record or someone dies.� But forced laughter and sympathy applause were all the positive reinforcement we�d experienced on the tour, so it made no difference to us. We were happy to play for dump people in shorts.
�Tight shirt, tight shorts, neither flatter his figure� The intermission lights clicked off for good and the crowd was ready for a lightning bonus round to crown the theme park experience worthy of the hassle. With no members of Everdown present to face off with, we set up a few stuffed animals and asked two random teenagers from the audience to stand onstage holding cardboard surfboards. The intro skit went something like:
*Tim (to the teens and stuffed animals): �Hey, man! Uh�CHI-YULL!� (Silence, a lull in which the teens and stuff animals failed to respond)
*Tim (to the teens and stuffed animals): �Yeah, man! CHI-YULL!� (The chant fizzled and one of the poor confused teens laughed, looked at this mom in the crowd, and muttered a shy �no way�.)
*Michael (astonished): �Aaa, what? Whu�dwa�hor!�
�This Plane Is Definitely Crashing� Keep it going. The worst it gets, the longer it gets dragged along, a Shag Bark Hickory guideline. Tim yelped out �WANGO TANGO� and started up �Dueling Banjos� on his guitar. I ran across stage, threw a keyboard in a stuffed Koala�s lap, asked �Oh yeah?� in a Koala voice, and returned the banjo duel via the keyboard�s �slap bass� option. We put bags over our heads and staggered through another excruciating round while the confused teens looked on. It felt exactly like the time Tim and I played a Waterworld board game with no rules or instructions. Jason finally relieved us all by shaking his hands in the air like pom poms and hesitantly yelling �Okay! We�ll GO FIRST!� Tim yelled �GREAT GONZOS!� and we played �You Threw Up�, a lounge song devoted to theme park romance and the deceptive nature of skorts. It was a relatively �good� performance and the crowd gave it up. �See,� Jason pushed. �Looks like all the cute girls think our band is boss, unless your band thinks it can do better.� (A longer lull of still no response from the poor teens. Finally the crowd spurred the teen wearing a *cringe* Kansas City Royals hat to ask �Am I supposed to play? What am I supposed to sing?�) �I don�t know,� I answered through a megaphone. �Just scat!� At this point Michael fell on the floor laughing, which added to the confusion. I�d given him the same advice when we recorded �I Haven�t Seen The Sun In Four Years� on our Scream, Blacula, Scream �album�:
�He�s a net chatting moron/He�s sweating up a storm/silver hat commotion/long fingernails� The poor teens were great, though. I can�t stress that enough. They laughed and fumbled around, sheepishly muttering things to their friends and family members in the crowd until I said �Here�maybe Michael W. Smith can help.� So Jason and Tim tore into a �flawless� rendition of �Michael W. Smith vs. The Daemons�, and we stretched it out for a least ten minutes. If you�ve never heard �Michael W. Smith vs. The Daemons�, it�s a �song� where Jason acts like a daemon, tempting Michael W. Smith (Tim) to steal a cookie. It�s quite dramatic. I stayed with the keyboard and Michael made the stuffed animals fly around like little daemons. The teens managed to play along until the daemons retreated. By then it was polite chaos, and we were kind of standing there randomly hitting and strymming instruments, staring at one another wondering what to do next. Finaly Jason picked up a folding chair and shouted �We give up! Everdown is the baddest band on the beach! I mean the Sock Hop!� He awkwardly stood the chair by the stuffed animals, to whom he slowly and directly spoke �HELLO EVERDOWN. HERE�S YOUR TROPHY.� with a huge smile on his face. Michael and Tim lifted one of the poor teens into the air and yelled �ALL RIGHT!� The crowd shot out a huge cheer, and by then it was 8:27pm. I grabbed the mic, gave a thumbs up, and abruptly said �Okay, we�re closed!� Genuine or not, the crowd let out another big cheer and quickly exited three minutes early �in order to beat the traffic.� All kidding aside, even the poor teens absolutely loved the show. The Holiday World theatre director, a 20 year-old intern, said we were �awesome�. He also told us the deli next to the Red Roof Inn closed at nine, so we hurried over for food and a lazy complimentary evening. Pastrami and provolone are good anywhere, at least in some capacity. The sandwiches were take-out, decent for high-school students rushing to close a deli in the middle of nowhere. We watched Easy Rider on TNT, then, as usual, got sucked into a �Crazy Home Videos� marathon on the Family Channel. The marathon highlight: After wrecking his tricycle into a mailbox, a young boy throws off his helmet and runs down the street, away form his parents, crying and screaming �NO MORE VIDEOTAPING!� I think the family won $10,000.
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