October 11th, 2011

krazy koati

See you when the summer's through

Dorney Park and Manhattan weren't the only amusement parks we visited in August, happy to say, and to relive.

Rye Playland is a fantastic place and I hope it's long for this world. Just the style of the buildings is wonderful, and evokes going back to earlier days of amusement parks. This is just the ice rink and game room and a place to go to the bathroom (complete with signs warning not to photograph people in the bathrooms because apparently that's a problem now because what is with people?).
Playland has one of an estimated three remaining Derby Racers. These are like a carousel, except that they're designed for the horses in a row to move forward and backward as well as rotating, giving the chance to actually race against your companions. That's disabled in the one at Playland, but makes up for it by running at over 120 miles per hour and continuing until all the riders have been flung off in the general direction of the bumper cars.
I was not allowed on Playland's Wild Mouse roller coaster. Apparently, I'm too tall. Here, the Wild Mouse cowers in fear of me.
I amused myself by watching a guy rehearsing for some of the live performances. He was doing juggling with pins and rings and similar juggle-based objects.
Here's a haunted house ride, which is just chock full of stuff, including entertaining bits of animation. The demon on the left side, for example, has teeth that are a pair of gear teeth, rotating opposite directions, and changing directions. Not depicted are a witch on a broom, and also Freddy Krueger.

Trivia: At the General Time Convention of 11 October 1883, voting on standardized time was by miles of track, not by company number or number of delegates. The vote was 27,781 within the convention plus 51,260 miles outside for; 1,714 track miles opposed. Source: Einstein's Clocks, Poincaré's Maps, Peter Galison.

Currently Reading: The Collected Stories Of Arthur C Clarke, Arthur C Clarke. It's not until reading his stories en masse like this that it really stands out: first, Clarke could probably have billed himself a fantasy writer with the occasional science fiction sideline (most of which were variants on his The City And The Stars template of the excessively rational young man restlessly peering over the edge of the world); and second, most of the science fiction he wrote was a technology guy reminiscing about a project he was involved in, often a matter of wandering around until there's a striking discovery and the threat of not getting back home.