21 JulA Lagoon Summer Night

I don’t like crowded events. I stay away from concerts and national parks in season. Perhaps it’s ironic, then, that one of my favorite summer activities occurs at a popular Utah amusement park named Lagoon. When it comes to summertime this is holds my heart.

My relationship began over five decades ago when I was seven. We had traveled down from Idaho to Lagoon for a family reunion. The think I remember most about that Lagoon trip was getting separated from my family. Perhaps I stopped to watch the people on the old wooden roller coaster begin their journey to the top of their first drop, or maybe I was listening to the scary moans coming from the Terror Ride. Whatever it was, when I looked up everyone in my group was gone . . .  everyone, that is, except for one of my female cousins. She was a year older than me and not much of a comfort in this awful situation. With visions of a lonely death without ever seeing my family again, panic set in. Even so, I still had sense enough to make my cousin walk at least six feet behind me because I didn’t want people to see me walking alone with a girl. Eventually this strange man in sunglasses hopped in front of me. I tried to go around him, but he kept jumping in my way. Turned out he was an older cousin I didn’t know who had been sent to find me. He brought me back to my mother who was angry with me for getting lost. I don’t remember much more of that day, but I’m sure it included rides and cotton candy and cold drinks.

When I grew up and had children of my own Lagoon became a part of their lives, too. The company I worked for held a company day there every year. The Lagoon days were long and leisurely. My wife and I pulled young ones in wagons through the crowds of people making stops at the kiddie bumper cars, the mini-roller coaster, and best of all—the beautiful Carousel. One of my favorite pictures is of one of my daughters riding the brightly painted rooster with the emerald red comb on top its head. We would have lunch in a pavilion, watch the people scream as they went under the waterfall on Rattlesnake Rapids, or sit on the grass under a stately cottonwood tree and watch the world go by. At the end of the day—long after nightfall—we would walk in happy exhaustion to our car and begin the two hour ride home.

As my eight children grew up going to Lagoon meant going with a pack of moody teenagers. They no longer wanted to spend the day with ol’ dad. My teens and their friends would form a group and take off by themselves. I still had a young one or two, so I wasn’t fully abandoned. On one of these teenage Lagoon trips I remember sitting on a bench under one of the many trees that makes this amusement park so beautiful. I was surprised when I felt someone lean on my shoulders from behind. I turned my head and saw it was my fifteen year old son. This was my firstborn—that apple of my eye—who was now suffering the mood swings of teenagedom. He was no longer the sweet boy who held my hand and who thought I was Superman. Now, he often scolded me for interfering in his life when I inquired about his school work or complained when I asked him to take out the garbage. Here he was casually resting his elbows on my shoulders, his head near mine. He was happy and relaxed. To me it felt as if a rare bird had landed on my hand. I didn’t want to act unnatural, but I was afraid to move for fear of scaring my son away. I was delighted when he stayed where he was, relaxed and at ease. We chatted about what rides we had been on and what we’d seen. All too soon the bird flew away, but I have never forgotten the happiness that moment brought.

Lagoon has a large selection of rides for a smaller park, but it’s not the rides that attract me. The park gets its name from the lagoon the park is built around. Early in the 20^th Century the park was simply a cool green place where families could relax on hot summer days. Over the years it grew in size and scope. There is plenty of asphalt there, now, but the trees, flowers and lawns remain to make it a pleasant and relaxing place in addition to the exciting rides.

The most magical summery thing about Lagoon is the twilight experience. The experience is set up by traversing back and forth across the hot asphalt while ride shopping on a day when temperatures reach the 100’s. Passing under the water misters is a relief, a good soaking on one of the water rides is refreshing, and watching the kids run through the fountain catching jets of water spraying irregularly up into the air is delightful. Still, the heat is slowly sucking the life out of you.

The magical moment happens around 9pm as the top of the sun slips behind the western mountains. You won’t believe me, but the magic is real. One moment there is the rumble of the rides, the screams of the passengers, the mixed smells of hamburgers and hot asphalt all accompanied by harsh sunlight and a heavy heat that presses down on you like a 120 pound pack. The next moment, as the last of the sun disappears behind the mountains far in the west, Lagoon passes through some mysterious boundary. A magical shockwave rolls across the park. For just an instant time stops. People stop mid-step. The couple in The Catapult are frozen with terror on their faces. People in The Samurai hang upside down with soundless screams coming from open mouths. In that moment the air cools. The unbearable beating heat flees and a friendlier, gentler heat radiates up from the asphalt.

Just as suddenly as it froze, time is released. The people finish their step. The couple in The Catapult scream. The people in the Samurai are thrown violently backwards as their chairs spin . . . and the lights come on like a whispering tsunami throughout the park . . . soft colored lights of blue, yellow, white and red that say, “carnival on a summer night.” The lights wink their way to the top of the Rocket as quickly and silently as a cheetah. They light up each arm of the Ferris Wheel like a syncopated jazz beat. They light up the inside of concessions stands where teenage employees in bright uniforms hand over dipping dots, churros, or blue drinks with rollercoaster straws.  

It’s that magical twilight moment at Lagoon that, to me, is the best of all summer has to offer. It’s hot, but pleasant; crowded but friendly; bright but colorful. The screams from the riders sound more joyous as they come to me from the shadows above. The clumps of passing people look happier as they walk from the glow of the ring toss to the glow of the cotton candy stand. Young couples lovingly hold hands as the vampires with the glowing red eyes peers down from them from the window of the Terror Ride. From the top of the Ferris wheel, with one of my younger ones at my side, I look down at the patchwork of lights and people below then at the summer sky above; at that moment Lagoon seems like the most perfect place in all the universe.

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