1231 knott's

My sister, Judi, called me in the morning and said that she and her husband, Mike, were taking their three kids (my one niece and two nephews) to Knott’s Berry Farm for the day, and asked if I wanted to join them. I answered in the affirmative and we made arrangements for them to pick me up in about an hour.

My niece called back about ten minutes later, and told me to wear navy blue and white, Penn State’s colors. I kind of figured I wouldn’t wear USC’s colors, since my sister is a UCLA grad.

On the way to the park, my sister mentioned that Knott’s had a special ticket price for anyone who wore the team colors of this season’s Rose Bowl (USC vs. Penn State).

Mike dropped us off at the front and parked the minivan while my sister and the three kids went to the ticket booth. The kids had different pricing, based on their age, so it was just the three of us (my sister, my brother-in-law, me) who tried for the Rose Bowl special. My sister had on a white top and blue jeans, but the ticket attendant had to get special approval to accept it. I had on a navy sweatshirt, a dark blue shirt, and white shoes, so the attendant said it was acceptable. But Mike was still parking the minivan and could not be seen. The attendant said it was okay and gave the three of us the special pricing.

Judi was a bit miffed by it, as they would accept Mike without seeing him, yet had to get special approval for her, who was right in front of them.

We started out in Camp Snoopy and it was just fun watching the kids running around from ride to ride. I mused to my sister, asking her if we were ever that young. I didn’t expect an answer but I got one anyways.

I watched them pan for gold and dress-up for an old-style portrait. The last time I did that, I looked like an American Indian. It must have been the long hair hanging on my shoulders.

Knott’s really hasn’t changed that much over the years, but I saw a Panda Express and a TGI Fridays. My sister and I both remembered the mission displays along the El Camino Real. It’s not there anymore.

At the end of the day, on the way to the parking lot, Judi commented that I didn’t go on any rides. I said that it was okay, because it was nice to spend time with my niece and nephews. Plus, having my wheelchair pushed and steered by the two boys (ages 5 and 9) was exciting enough. The youngest one only pushed once, saying, “Boy, you’re heavy!”

Even when Mike used the chair for discipline. “Do you want to get hit by the wheelchair again?” He didn’t ask me, even though I was in the chair at the time.

They got me home before 6pm.