It was just after 9:00 am and Matt was already sweating through his shirt as we entered The Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Studios in Orlando. As we stood in line at Ollivander’s Wand Shop, at least six people came up to the costumed young woman at the door and asked variations of “What is this?” or “Is this a ride?” without preface. Her response: “It’s a demonstration of how the wand chooses the wizard!” She told me one day she said this seven hundred and fifty-two times.
Akeyla had pretty much had it with Hogsmeade by 10, while Astrid wanted to move there. And this is how Key and I found ourselves in the loudest, flashiest, noisiest section of the park on rides that practically gave me a seizure from sensory overload.
Last summer, I posted about how I have Bipolar Type 2 but now I’m totally cool and stabilized and stuff. Apparently, I lied. Here are some common bipolar triggers, from actual medical internet websites: travel, noise, heat, crowds, stressful situations. In fact, I think the DSM should be updated to knock out all other triggers for mood disorders and anxiety attacks and replace them with two words: THEME PARKS.
By the time our family hooked up again in the Circus McGurkus Café Stoo-pendous™ I was in a state of agitation and going nowhere good fast. I ditched to the restroom. The goddamn Dr. Seuss-themed restroom, into which Dr. Seuss crazy music was being piped.
As I do with most emergencies, I went to Twitter. I DM’d my bipolar friend, Eric, the other member of the two-member #TeamBipolar. (Our tagline: You never know what to expect. We’re having t-shirts made). Several calming DMs and a Klonopin later, I was 50% ready to face the kids, if not the park.
Aaannnnnddd…then Astrid begged me to go on the Harry Potter rides with her. So of course I did. Because if my kid wants to go on goddamn Harry Potter rides with her mom, she’s going on goddamn Harry Potter rides with her mom. Fuck you, bipolar.
The Hogwarts ride basically flies around an Imax theater from hell as fast and as jerkily as it can, while some sort of “plot” unfolds on movie screens in front of you. Or something. I’m not sure. I closed my eyes early on, which just left me with a lurching stomach and no visuals to support it. I could barely stand when we got off.
Aaannnnnddd…then Astrid begged me to go on the Hippogriff roller coaster with her. And I love Buckbeak as much as the next Harry Potter fan, so how could I say no to her?
The Hippogriff roller coaster is the worst roller coaster in the world. There is no coasting and little rolling. Instead, you speed around a slightly squashed ellipse as fast as you can, so that your entire adult weight is thrown against your tiny daughter, smashing her into the side of the carriage over and over for three minutes. She loved it. I did not.
I needed to sit. We found Matt & Key, cooling off in a splash area. The heat index was soaring toward 100. I was fading.
As with hypothermia, you don’t realize you should be taking action. You just want to lie down in the snow and go to sleep. Or in this case, on the burning pavement.
So I told Matt and Astrid to fly around on a final Jurassic Park ride. I would just sit on this bench in full sun, thank you very much. Forever, apparently. Finally, I texted Matt:
Me: WTH are you?
Matt: 30 minute wait but we are in line now so no turning back.
Me: OMG I am dying.
Which had the beneft of actually practically BEING TRUE. For I sat on that hot sunny bench while Key ran through the fountains for much, much longer than I should have. When Matt and Astrid returned, it was all I could do to trudge. And trudge, and trudge, toward the car.
I made it to the Jimmy Buffett themed restaurant when I collapsed, giving new meaning to wasting away in Margaritaville.
Paramedics were called, ice chips dispensed. A wheelchair was brought. A wet towel tossed over my head. I looked like this:
A Dramatic Reenactment. Note party purse & less-than-jaunty fedora.
The next day, we tackled Epcot. As we entered the gates, Matt pulled me aside and looked straight into my eyes:
“If you need to stop, the safe word is anxiety.”
* * *
Linking up with the Yeah Write Speakeasy!
You poor thing! I feel so bad that you felt so shitty in Orlando. There is nothing worse than feeling bad at a theme park. When I go to Disney, I suffer from every diagnosed condition known to man and a few that I totally make up as I go along.
I can’t believe you were there at the same time! Different worlds, as my trip took a darker turn soon after this….
I think many people feel they deserve a medal after surviving a theme park. You, my friend, actually do.
As much as I have been hoping for your speedy recovery, I have also been sitting by patiently waiting for the stories of your “adventure” to unfold. The time has come, friends. The. Time. Has. Come. Hallelujah. P.S. Great post. Very funny.
I’m so glad you made it through the day. I also really, really feel bad for that poor worker having to answer the same question hundreds of times a day. I be she hears “do the wands really work?” a terrifying amount, too.
She was wearing a long black polyester wizardy looking skirt and Hogsmeade had fake snow on all the roofs. I was not fooled.
I love the fact that did the dramatic reenactment photo for us. Honestly, it was missing a couple cute paramedics, but I can do the mental visual on that one myself!
Seriously, though, since I follow along on all your adventures through Twitter I know that there is more dramatic reenactment still to come!
So glad you survived and got home to share all the details with us!!! Waiting for round two!-Ashley
Last time I was in Orlando, there was no Harry Potter World. We almost died of heat stroke at the animal park and then hypothermia in the Rainforest Cafe. I’m not dying to go back. Sorry about all the drama but your post is awesome!
Yes yes on the hypothermia! I carried around an extra sweater because the indoor stuff was all icy cold. And yes, we ate at the Rainforest Cafe. Also a sensory overload. “The animals move!” “We have a rainshower every 20 minutes!”
1. travel, noise, heat, crowds, stressful situations Why did nobody tell me this? I mean, it totally makes sense NOW.
2. I was hypomanic 2 weeks ago so my doctor gave me Seroquel and cut my Lexapro in half. He left my FIVE lithium and my Klonopin alone. The Seroquel took 3 days to get out of my system where I wasn’t sleeping everywhere. It sucked ass. My doc MUST be dead because he didn’t call me back when I stopped. As such, I woke up 3 times to pee last night (that’s nuthin) and each time I had the same song, same part, still in my head. In otherwords, my thoughts aren’t stopping. I’m still distracted. I’m pretty sure he didn’t cure me.
3. Can I be in your club? I’ll totally wear the shirt. Please. I have nobody. I need Eric’s Twitter so I can DM him in times of stress.
Welcome to the Team!
Ah this gave me vivid flash backs to my first “major” incident of anxiety, before I knew what it was and I just thought I was dying. In the sun. Great description of a horrible moment.
I’m trying very very hard to teach my girls that the Only reason ever to set foot in Florida is to swim with Manatees. There’s nothing else to see there. Really.
Oh, you poor muggle… I am so sorry you had such s terrible time. And I know it gets worse from here. Many, many hugs.
Blarrrrgggghhhh. My dear, you are SUCH a good mom to try to suck it up and deal. But alas, sometimes our bodies just give us the double bird and host a rebellion all of its own. I’m so sorry. As always, hilarious writing and can’t wait for the next installment. ps – fuck Hogwarts, for being an asshole.
The worst part was that all of Hogsmeade was covered in fake snow on the quaint buildings. LIARS.
What an awful, awful day at the parks. It was awesome of you to stick things out, but I’m glad you got to work out a way to signal the husband if things got ugly again. It took me a really, really awful few days of vacation depression to get okay with telling Erin when things were ugly. It doesn’t stop the problems to say so, but they know to accommodate if they must, and you know you will be accommodated if you need, which takes some of the Extra Don’t Go Crazy Now, CrazyPerson anxiety off of the shoulders. Managing it with children…man, you have my respect big time.
#TeamBipolar
Yes, yes to the “Don’t go crazy now for god’s sake!” feeling. Gigantic hugs to your neck over the internet, Eric
I bleed for you. I hate theme parks with the heat of a thousand white-hot suns. Crowds, forced merriment, COSTUMES? Dante’s Inferno ain’t got nuthin’ that compares. It wasn’t in the public version of our vows, but Husband & I made a long-ago deal: if & when our kids need to Do Disney, I will go. To the Hotel. To the Restaurant. To the Pool. But I will NOT go in line, on rides, or anyother such nonsense. God invented poolside dining for a reason, people.
I’m in love with your husband. I now want someone to look me in the eye and give me a safe word. Mine is “go back to the hotel and get your toes done”.
Poor Cindy! Poor Matt! Reminded me of the time I had to escort my son on the Batman ride at Six Flags, because he was too short. Peter doesn’t “DO” rides, so it was me or never. I loved amusement park rides. I loved the thrill rides the most. But, as I grew older, I began to experience nausea on merry-go-rounds…and everything else. Comes the Batman ride, and my little boy, and I decided this was a case of mind over matter. And you know what? That doesn’t really matter. That ride did things a mosquito shouldn’t do. I had a hot flash, and was literally sick for three days. Now, I don’t “DO” rides, and if you’re not tall enough…hmm, let’s go after you grow.
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