Lights Delay Too Long
My granddaughters and I visited, well tried to visit, the widely acclaimed Festival of Lights on Saturday, December 8, 2018, an event I had in the past, promised to take them to.
Not quite what I expected. It seemed more of an exercise in patience for grandparents and bladder control for little ones. Throw in a combination of popularity, lack of information, web based as well as real time, and it serves up as a recipe for a lousy time.
After reviewing the website and speaking to friends and locals who had been there, I figured no biggie, how difficult could it be.
We got into line below the Convenient Food Mart around 5:15 p.m., tuned in the local radio station for Christmas music and any relevant information about the fest and we waited, and waited and waited.
Look, I realize that when you choose to visit a popular ride, event or otherwise, most of the time, waiting is the name of the game, but this went to another level altogether.
So, when you pass the little car wash at the bottom of the hill, it sure would have been nice to know any of the following three things. 1. No bathrooms, 2. No turn arounds, 3. No gas.
In my wildest dreams I would have never thought leaving East Liverpool with three quarters of a tank of gas would have been an issue; that one is on me.
No turnarounds. I guess if I lived on that stretch of road, I would have had my fill of people using my driveway as a turnaround, a garbage dump, or a bathroom stop and so on, so that was out for me, as I didn’t want to trespass on another’s property and avoid getting into a confrontation.
The last issue is almost unbelievable. How many people who go to the lights are kids? Without any scientific study, let’s say for the sake of argument half of the visitors are kids, but most likely more than that. From where we got into line, it took three full hours to get to the entrance — yes folks, three hours. How many kids, and adults, needed to use the bathroom in three hours? Again, no science, but a lot. Well, use the bathroom they did, and at first, I was like, can’t you wait? Well, hell no, they can’t wait; they knew something I didn’t. That I would soon be standing outside my truck, shielding my grandchildren, using truck doors and a blanket, to allow them to “go,” as it would be at least 45 more minutes to get there.
It may have been a perfect storm of bad luck for us, but when we got back on the highway, the traffic was backed up on the interstate. I wonder how long they waited from there.