We're choosing the path between the stars
For all this describing we still hadn't reached the end of the day, even though we'd taken extra rides on the outdoor roller coasters, which were no less fun even if on the second time on the Wild Mouse I was able to squeeze in so that bunny_hugger was not at risk of flying out of the car. And we got to an attraction I had thought was a mirror maze. It was actually a ``glass'' maze, with the walls marked off by plexiglass, and I was probably being too analytical to get the full experience. I kept looking at the ground, where the path was more obvious, and bunny_hugger rescued me when I did take a wrong turn. The maze lead us up top, to a few distortion mirrors which amused us but which the kids also going through the maze just ran past. We wondered if this was a generational divide: we remember before those twists were standard web camera features. There was a spiral slide down; we learned that in the course of achieving advanced degrees we had forgotten how to ride spiral slides without sticking. Many of the kids hadn't quite got the hang of it either, though.
Another attraction was Dizzy Dragons, with riders in the bellies of Public Domain Cartoon versions of the Dragon Tales gang. This is a relentless spinning ride, with one twist being that your individual dragon also spins with the riders' twisting of a table inside, at least in the reference frame from which the seats are considered the origin. This sort of ride requires the riders have compatible views about how fast a spinning-seats ride should spin to avoid unpleasant side effects. I did start testing just how responsive the dragons were to table-spinning, and bunny_hugger didn't strongly object. This might be in part because at one point I realized between my looking at the table, looking out, and shifting around I was getting myself uncomfortably dizzy, encouraging me to let things spin down some.
The ride we probably had the lowest expectations for was Safari Train, a little indoor `scenic railroad' type ride which took a surprisingly zippy tour through a green felt floor room with animated gorillas and waving birds and the like. It's endearingly goofy, somehow, and moved faster than we figured, and we got two tours of it so we were able to take in not just the scenery but also to spot where power cords popped out of the felt carpeting or the like. So it was a cute little ride which, we would learn, would be our last.
Five national teams were expected for the tug-of-war in the 1912 Stockholm Olympic Games. Only two -- Sweden and the United Kingdom -- showed up.
Source: Encyclopedia of the Modern Olympic Movement, Editors John E Findling, Kimberly D Pelle.
Currently Reading: The Arms of Krupp, 1587-1968, William Manchester.