In the US, Six Flags Great America is a fun way to spend a Sunday afternoon with friends or family. My trips as a ten year old were fun because I realized I loved the thrill of a roller coaster, and could easily consume a funnel cake with ice cream guilt free. When I was in high school, trips to Six Flags were meant more for scoping out hot guys than going on every ride possible, yet I still got the adrenaline rush when riding The Raging Bull (the ride, not the hot guys I ended up never having the guts to talk to). In Chile, amusement parks are meant to provide the same kind of fun. Sunday morning I woke up not knowing what I would do that day, until Jackie told me to be ready in 30 minutes, because we were going to Fantasilandia. Fantasilandia is an amusement park located in the center of the city, so it is easily accessible by metro. We arrived at about 1:00pm and paid 500 pesos for a janky trolley/bus to transport us to the entrance about 500 meters away from the metro stop. When we arrived at the gate my smile showed that I was more excited than probably the majority of the chicanitas that were in line behind me. I hadn’t been to an amusement park in about 5 years, which for someone who loves an adrenaline rush, feels more like 10. We paid $14 to enter the park and our first destination was The Raptor. The Raptor reminded me of The Batman at Six Flags. You were suspended in your seat while your feet dangled in the air as you whipped around 3 different loops and a corkscrew. The wait wasn’t nearly as long as rides at Six Flags, maybe because the capacity of the park was about an 8th of the size. The entire park could fit into the Southwest Territory of Six Flags (think Viper and Giant Drop area). After it was finally our turn, all 8 of us loaded into our seats. Unlike Six Flags, it only takes about 9 seconds to make sure everyone is secured before ascending up the rickety slope. A simple tug of your belt and off you go. It felt so good to scream at the top of my lungs as I went flying upside down, sliding around in my harness as if it were fit for a 200 lb man instead of my 5ft 4in frame. The rides just got better and better, and by better I mean more likely that I would dive to my death at a Chilean amusement park. The ride that resembled The Giant Drop seemed to be held up by only one simple rusty metal hook, yet we were suspended 7 stories in the air for what seemed like a whole minute before being dropped in half a second. Every harness fit loosely enough for me to slide around with ease, crashing my jams with every twist and turn. Yet I didn’t care, because the park was fantasifabulous. It even had a few water rides, the infamous Tsunami that drenched bystanders on a bridge, and another with a giant tube that fit 6 people and went down a twisting slide. You wait in line for over 30 minutes, pile into a wet tube, and then slowly make your way down “a river” before being propelled down a slide that lasts 15 seconds. Don’t get me wrong those 15 seconds are heaven, but when you are done you are wet and left saying “now what?” At the end of the day I was exhausted with a headache and experiencing waves of nausea, yet ask me if I would go again? Do fish piss in the sea? Of course I would do it again! Because being at an amusement park in Chile surrounded by teenagers in snake skin jeggings and mullets, screaming my head off for fear that I may have to inform my mother that I lost a few appendages at a place called Fantasilandia, is my idea of a fucking good time. I wouldn’t be surprised if I hit it up again when the weather gets better, because those go-karts that we passed up aren’t going to ride themselves.
Jackie’s face after realizing that maybe she shouldn’t have gotten on the ride