Pirate Shippers Forever
July 9, 2022
We went to Efteling with my sister’s family when they were visiting and I took my little nephew on the pirate ship ride and absolutely blew his mind. He’s a tiny Tasmanian devil, his body and mind are bursting with kinetic energy at all times and most of his short life’s been spent struggling to contain himself; in school, in sports, on his bike, swimming, with friends, in the house, everywhere. The moment that pirate ship started swinging this kid fully activated. It was like he was holding on to two lightning bolts. Strapped in, yet free to feel every zing, zap and bolt of electricity in his body and mind. He was off the Richter scale, and it was the most pure, ecstatic experience not only for him, but for me, James, the two Dutch girls sitting in our row, and pretty much everyone else in his electrified orbit.
It reminded me of years ago when we took JW camping at Knoebels, the amusement park in Pennsylvania my mom grew up going to, then took us as kids, and then we took our friends as young adults, and then our kid. James went back up to the camp site to set things up for the night and JW and I stayed in the park a little longer into the evening and decided to ride the pirate ship. JW was just tall enough to ride and we got a seat in the back. The moment is started swinging we felt the tickling in our bellies and our laughter bubbled up and burst out and we swung through the sky, over the treetops, the wind catching our screams and sent them out into the park, over the trees, into the sky. I remember thinking holy shit, this is a moment I will remember for the rest of my life, and roughly a decade later, it’s still just as vivid. Something profound happened on that ride — I realized it was the first time I’d felt something in a very long time. I hadn’t realized how deeply my postpartum depression had affected me, and was still affecting me. Dopamine, serotonin, endorphins — the works. I felt alive. I felt electricity. I felt awake and I felt ecstatic. I’d never felt so present, and I was sharing the entire experience with my kid. It was absolutely transcendent. It changed the course of my life.
After the ride with my nephew ended, he was frantic to ride again, he couldn’t get out of the ship fast enough. He ripped off his glasses and shoved them in his sisters’s open hands and took off running down the ramp, weaving his way through the cattle gates passing all the other kids who were also racing to ride again. He paused at the entrance to wait for me to catch up, I also had to weave my way through the cattle guard, no small feat, and we ran like maniacs to the back of the ship and crammed our way in. We sailed into the trees, our screams carrying through the park and into the forest beyond. We were alive, filled with electricity, fully ourselves. When the ride stopped, we did it again. “Pirate Shippers forever, Auntie Jen,” he yelled at me, grabbing my hand as we sailed through the air.
Pirate Shippers forever, buddy.