The Summer Project: The Waterslide (1985)
I've written before about my fear of water as a kid and how the stress of it was almost as bad as the fear itself. As the 1980s progressed, I gradually -- very gradually -- overcame some of that fear to the point that in fall 1989, I actually was taking swim lessons at the YMCA that doubled as a Marquette dorm. Furthermore, I was always fascinated by water slides -- they looked like a lot of fun and I knew I was missing out.
In the summer of 1985, my friends somehow convinced me to try a water slide for the first time. It didn't go quite exactly as I hoped.
In suburban Oak Brook Terrace, Ebenezer Floppen Slopper's operated two stone water slides embedded into the hillside. You pretty much don't see these kinds of water slides anymore. Basically, they were concrete tracks at ground level, smoothed over so water would flow over them, and gravity would do the rest over a couple hundred twisting yards. This differed from the traditional fiberglass water slide that was that's at every other public pool in the country today. Having never been on a water slide before, I didn't have a frame of reference, but I remember both kinds of slides at Wisconsin Dells a few years earlier (before the Dells exploded with water slides ...).
The reason why I thought I could handle this was the pool at the bottom was only a couple feet deep. I could easily just stand up at the bottom at the end of the ride before I fell in. Easy peasy, right?
I went with friends from my street: Marc, Brian, and Steve. Brian drove in his Chevy Citation. We went in the evening -- this waterpark had lights (after all, it was just two slides). Brian hid his key on the tire of his car so he wouldn't lose it on the slide. We paid our admission and walked through the gatehouse. I remember a kind of spring-loaded board on the way out -- step on it and you would get a shower from above. I guess it was the way to get people to shower before entering the water, but everyone simply avoided it.
Wow, I was nervous. We grabbed mats and started walking up the concrete path toward the top of the slide. The first indication I might have been in over my head (not literally) was a few seconds into the ride. Because this was such a long slide, there was no waiting until one person was off before the next person could go. Everyone just went, maybe in intervals. Well, when it was my turn, I started drifting toward my friends to see Steve had stopped and was trying to pull the mat away from Marc. I don't think they were going to try harass me in this manner -- the knew how nervous I was to begin with -- but it was my first sign this was not going to be mellow.
We were now in a group and started picking up speed. This should have been fun, but I suddenly was not enjoying it. Plus, I was kneeling on the mat when I probably just should have been sitting. I think my rationale was, if I was sitting, I might go under at the bottom. Kneeling, I'd come to a stop with two-thirds of my body above water. That didn't happen -- I sailed into the splash pool and got dunked.
I wasn't happy.
But, I paid my money and was willing to give it another try. We got to the top, started to slide and ... hit a traffic jam. A bunch of people had stopped a third of the way down to get as many riders backed up behind them to get a massive rush of speed, water, and bodies going. You would never see this today on a normal water slide, I don't think it would work and it would be structurally unsafe. For a stone slide set into the ground, there wasn't as much danger.
The mass of riders started moving, and I likely was a bit panicked. A girl in front of me, cute, wet hair and wearing a t-shirt over her swimsuit, must have seen the look of sheer terror in my face and asked if I was OK. I lied and said yes. We hit the bottom and, amazingly, I didn't go under. But at that point, I had enough.
I told my friends I'd wait by the car, and from there, shivering in just my shorts. The lifeguards threatened to close the slides if riders didn't stop clogging it up, but no one listened, and people were actually cheering after particularly fast rides. I watched teenager after teenager go down that slide, having a great time as they hit the splashdown pool. I was bummed out that I couldn't get up the courage to try again and not be so freaked out. I thought about the cute girl who was worried about me. I realized how much being 14 sucked.
Thirty-three years and dozens of water slides later (including this one, which doesn't look crazy but was the biggest thrill of my life), the Ebenezer Floppen Slopper slides still might be the most insane I've experienced. Granted, past age 40, I'm not looking for nutty thrills -- I'm content going at a reasonable speed, not going high on banks, and, if I'm on a tube or raft, never feeling like I'm going to flip over. Those stone slides are probably all gone. There are some water slides here in Salt Lake on a hillside made of fiberglass that look similar -- and I want to try them because they are old-school -- but the experience won't be the same. Ebenezer Floppen Slopper's became a full-fledged waterpark, Roaring Rapids but didn't last into the 1990s.
That night was a milestone -- it got me ever so closer to overcoming the fear. Even though I was a high schooler, I was hanging out with high schoolers at a place, at least at night, geared toward teens, which was somewhat of a first.
Looking back now, I don't know if I regret giving up after two slides. I did give it my best shot -- and throughout my life, there have been things (skiing, some roller coasters, Indian food) that I have at least tried and realized, "Nope, not for me." That night, I stepped way outside my comfort zone, and though I retreated back into it, I was brave enough to try in the first place.
My only regret was looking so panicked for the girl. In might have been the abject fear shaping my view, but she really was cute.
In the summer of 1985, my friends somehow convinced me to try a water slide for the first time. It didn't go quite exactly as I hoped.
In suburban Oak Brook Terrace, Ebenezer Floppen Slopper's operated two stone water slides embedded into the hillside. You pretty much don't see these kinds of water slides anymore. Basically, they were concrete tracks at ground level, smoothed over so water would flow over them, and gravity would do the rest over a couple hundred twisting yards. This differed from the traditional fiberglass water slide that was that's at every other public pool in the country today. Having never been on a water slide before, I didn't have a frame of reference, but I remember both kinds of slides at Wisconsin Dells a few years earlier (before the Dells exploded with water slides ...).
The reason why I thought I could handle this was the pool at the bottom was only a couple feet deep. I could easily just stand up at the bottom at the end of the ride before I fell in. Easy peasy, right?
I went with friends from my street: Marc, Brian, and Steve. Brian drove in his Chevy Citation. We went in the evening -- this waterpark had lights (after all, it was just two slides). Brian hid his key on the tire of his car so he wouldn't lose it on the slide. We paid our admission and walked through the gatehouse. I remember a kind of spring-loaded board on the way out -- step on it and you would get a shower from above. I guess it was the way to get people to shower before entering the water, but everyone simply avoided it.
Wow, I was nervous. We grabbed mats and started walking up the concrete path toward the top of the slide. The first indication I might have been in over my head (not literally) was a few seconds into the ride. Because this was such a long slide, there was no waiting until one person was off before the next person could go. Everyone just went, maybe in intervals. Well, when it was my turn, I started drifting toward my friends to see Steve had stopped and was trying to pull the mat away from Marc. I don't think they were going to try harass me in this manner -- the knew how nervous I was to begin with -- but it was my first sign this was not going to be mellow.
We were now in a group and started picking up speed. This should have been fun, but I suddenly was not enjoying it. Plus, I was kneeling on the mat when I probably just should have been sitting. I think my rationale was, if I was sitting, I might go under at the bottom. Kneeling, I'd come to a stop with two-thirds of my body above water. That didn't happen -- I sailed into the splash pool and got dunked.
I wasn't happy.
But, I paid my money and was willing to give it another try. We got to the top, started to slide and ... hit a traffic jam. A bunch of people had stopped a third of the way down to get as many riders backed up behind them to get a massive rush of speed, water, and bodies going. You would never see this today on a normal water slide, I don't think it would work and it would be structurally unsafe. For a stone slide set into the ground, there wasn't as much danger.
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| The Google Maps view of the abandoned waterslides. |
I told my friends I'd wait by the car, and from there, shivering in just my shorts. The lifeguards threatened to close the slides if riders didn't stop clogging it up, but no one listened, and people were actually cheering after particularly fast rides. I watched teenager after teenager go down that slide, having a great time as they hit the splashdown pool. I was bummed out that I couldn't get up the courage to try again and not be so freaked out. I thought about the cute girl who was worried about me. I realized how much being 14 sucked.
Thirty-three years and dozens of water slides later (including this one, which doesn't look crazy but was the biggest thrill of my life), the Ebenezer Floppen Slopper slides still might be the most insane I've experienced. Granted, past age 40, I'm not looking for nutty thrills -- I'm content going at a reasonable speed, not going high on banks, and, if I'm on a tube or raft, never feeling like I'm going to flip over. Those stone slides are probably all gone. There are some water slides here in Salt Lake on a hillside made of fiberglass that look similar -- and I want to try them because they are old-school -- but the experience won't be the same. Ebenezer Floppen Slopper's became a full-fledged waterpark, Roaring Rapids but didn't last into the 1990s.
That night was a milestone -- it got me ever so closer to overcoming the fear. Even though I was a high schooler, I was hanging out with high schoolers at a place, at least at night, geared toward teens, which was somewhat of a first.
Looking back now, I don't know if I regret giving up after two slides. I did give it my best shot -- and throughout my life, there have been things (skiing, some roller coasters, Indian food) that I have at least tried and realized, "Nope, not for me." That night, I stepped way outside my comfort zone, and though I retreated back into it, I was brave enough to try in the first place.
My only regret was looking so panicked for the girl. In might have been the abject fear shaping my view, but she really was cute.
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