Last month, we met with my sister and her family for a fun day at a nearby theme park. We had gone to the same park last year and had such a good time, and this time my kids were excited about sharing the experience with their cousins. I felt confident about navigating through the park and handling the high food prices — that is, until we went through the main gate.
As with many theme parks, the drinks, snacks, and meal deals weren’t deals at all, but we knew that ahead of time. Last year, we took some snacks along with us to save some money, and no one working at the gates commented on them at all (we did buy our drinks there). Because the park had such a family-friendly policy of allowing snacks into the park, I assured my sister we could do it this year as well.
So, before we headed off to the park, we each packed a bag with snacks and a few extra waters. We were ready for a great day.
That is, until we lined up to go through the turnstile. This summer, as the workers looked through the bags, if you had any extra drinks or snacks, they told you to throw them away or take them back to your car, at least a thirty minute walk there and back.
“Really?” I said, incredulous. “Take them back?”
“Yes,” the worker repeated. “You can take your water through this time, but the snacks have to go back.”
My sister went through in a different line. The worker there told her she could keep her snacks just this once, but she had to throw her drinks away. We watched as others had to throw away some of their stuff, too.
Shocked and angry about the randomness of it all, we put a few of our snacks in my sister’s bag, and I headed out with the rest. I wanted to put all of my snacks in her bag, but she insisted that she was a rule-follower, and said that we shouldn’t do it. So we’d eat her snacks, drink my water, and make it through the day without having to spend too much on extra food.
Back in the parking lot, I unlocked the car and put the backpack in the van. I stood there a moment, thinking about all of the snacks in there. Included in the stack of snacks were two tuna packs in foil, the kind you would take if you were camping. I had bought them for my husband, as he’s a big guy and granola bars just don’t fill him up. I thought of him, thought of my sister, then put the packs in the pocket of my shorts. No one would even notice.
On the long walk back into the park, I had a lot of time to think about that tuna. Was it the right thing to do? Was it right to break this rule that just didn’t seem fair? What did it say about my character and integrity? Could we afford $10.00+ hamburgers for everyone? Did my husband really need that tuna?
I decided he did. After all, it was a bad rule. It was not family-friendly, and I had a family to look after.
On the way out of the park, I had my arm stamped, so to return, I had to go through a special entrance. When I approached the gate, I saw one of the workers and a security guard. I held out my arm to show him the stamp. Then I had to pass through the metal detector.
A metal detector…