‘Indiana James’ Goes Wild

Friday, December 10, 2004

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‘Indiana James’ Goes Wild

By J’AMY PACHECO

We sometimes call her “James,” this tiny, brown-eyed offspring of mine. She prefers “Baby,” but on those rare occasions when a childish moniker won’t work, she’s “James.”

James is definitely a mommy’s girl - often shy, frequently afraid to try new things. Never has this been more apparent than during the last year and a half, since we first bought annual passes for Disneyland.

We use them frequently, and have been known to drop in at “The Happiest Place on Earth” for as little as an hour. Most of our trips include a trek across the plaza to that other park in the Disney Resort - California Adventure.

Our approximately two bazillion trips have been pretty routine. Although we try to do at least one new thing every trip, we mostly stick to the rides we’re used to, and rarely go on anything wilder than the space themed, feels-like-you’re-flying-but-you’re-not ride, Star Tours. No Splash Mountain, no Tower of Terror or California Screamin’ roller coaster rides for us, no thank you.

But my little girl has longed to try a ride called “Indiana Jones.” Loosely based upon the adventures of the movie character of the same name, Indiana Jones is a jolt-intensive attraction in which riders experience the thrill of racing from danger, over boiling lava and through poison darts in a poorly-running jeep.

My normally sheltered daughter somehow managed to see all three Indiana Jones movies, and loves them. (Even the second one, “Temple of Doom,” which I think is a huge stinker of a film.)

Each time we passed the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland, she longingly asked me to describe the ride to her again, especially the part where the jeep suddenly descends to avoid an enormous rolling boulder. But she wouldn’t try the ride.

She tried to work up courage. Once, last summer, she got as far as being buckled in and launched to the ride’s starting point before a sudden case of cold feet caused her to wail so loudly that our fellow passengers joined me in demanding the child be allowed off the ride.

How embarrassing.

Even the Indiana Jones t-shirt I bought her to use as pajamas didn’t ease her fear of the ride.

A few weeks ago, though, some friends of ours bought annual passes, and we started going to Disneyland together. They started encouraging her to try Indiana Jones, assuring her that if she tried it, she would surely want to go again and again.

It never worked. But last weekend, when we decided to meet our friends at Disneyland on the way home from seeing “The Nutcracker,” she made a surprise announcement.

“Mom,” she said. “I think I want to try Indiana Jones.”

I nearly wrecked the car.

But I didn’t, and when we hooked up with our friends, she announced her intention to them. We immediately got in line.

We were almost to the front when she panicked, grabbing a railing so she wouldn’t have to get in the jeep. While I rolled my eyes in “here we go again” exasperation, her pal’s father bet her a churro she’d love the ride. I’m not sure how it happened, but I soon found myself strapped into a jeep next to my daughter, who didn’t even whimper.

She held on for dear life, and said little during the ride. When it was over, she made her thoughts known:

“I LOVE THIS RIDE!” she shrieked. “CAN WE GO AGAIN?”

We hurried back into the line, again and again, spurred by “Indiana James,” who soon insisted on taking the wheel of the jeep herself. No doubt about it, a long-lasting fear had finally been conquered.

I think this may be a good thing.

As a mother, I want my child to have fun and avoid ridicule. I’d hate for her to be the only 13-year-old who has never been on anything more exciting than Dumbo. On the other hand, I’m grateful she isn’t like another little pal, a fearless little girl who regularly falls off dirt bikes and snowboards. Yikes.

There’s a fine line between being adventurous and reckless, and I’m not sure where it is. I’m thrilled she’s now an “Indiana James,” but I wonder where it will lead, and how soon.

There’s no way of knowing, but I know it’s coming. The day after she braved Indiana, she asked when we would be going back to Disneyland.

“I think I might ride the Matterhorn next time,” she said.

Disneyland had better get those churros cooking. Looks like “Indiana James” isn’t going to be “Baby” much longer.