Sesame Place, Part 1: The Red Menace

The high-pitched voice emerges from nowhere. More accurately, it comes out of a speaker somewhere above the ride. What is Elmo thinking about today?

If I was still a snotty high-schooler, and for some reason found myself at Sesame Place, it would take me about one beat to yell back, Farm tariffs? Pet food safety? Trigonometry? But I stay quiet. Anyway, the correct answer is elusive. No one really knows what Elmo is thinking about, because he's too hyperactive to stay on one thought for very long. He's Elmo, after all, and you force a resigned smile and put up with him, kind of like you tolerate a drunken nephew at a Christmas party because you don't want to offend your sister, only the Christmas party is your life, and the sister is your kid.

 

To be honest, on the Peek-a-Bug ride, I got the impression that Elmo was thinking something sinister, because he chimes in every now and then with, Peek-a-boo, I see you! as the ride both swings and spins -- a pleasant diversion for an adult, but a nice moment of bravery for a 2-year-old. A lot of the dry rides at Sesame Place (much of which is a water park) are like this, not too scary but definitely enough to thrill toddlers, a clear step up in velocity from the Magic Kingdom's Fantasyland. Nate ate it up. So did Jenn and I, actually, until we left the ride area, slipped into one of the park's live shows, and found ourselves trapped in a studio recreation of...

...Elmo's World. Elmo's Freaking World. Yes. And let me tell you, this psychedelic monstrosity that has overtaken the last 20 minutes of Sesame Street in recent years is no more tolerable in person. Nate, to his credit, didn't exactly drink the Kool-Aid; he stared noncommittally most of the time, probably wondering why Elmo talks in the third person, like some highly salaried pro athlete at a press conference: Elmo owns the house, but never goes there! Elmo didn't know about the fighting pits! Elmo will just have to speak sternly with his posse! It's kind of hypnotic for kids, I'm sure, but what's really going on inside that red-carpeted head?

Dual diagnosis, that's what. Let me explain. I recently wrote a story about how the behavioral health community is more effectively treating folks who suffer from mental health and substance abuse issues simultaneously. Well, in Elmo's case, the mental health signs are literally scribbled all over the walls, floor, and piano, in crayon. Then there's the giggling, the inability to focus, the impossibly positive outlook in this uncertain world, the clearly unhealthy relationship with Mr. Noodle and his brother, Mr. Noodle ... you get the picture. But substance abuse? Is it possible? Well, consider this photo of Mr. Happy taking precious moments away from his live show to rummage through his graffiti-tagged drawers. For what, I wonder?

His car-shaped pillbox, of course, which we watched him desperately hammer with his fists in an effort to free the sweet, sweet prescriptions within. This was serious business, people. When Elmo crashes, Elmo crashes.

Apparently he was successful, however, because within minutes he was engaged in a lively chat with a fish. And so it went, head-shaking moment after head-shaking moment, for 20 excruciating minutes. As we walked out, I turned to Jenn and said, "That was ... horrible. It's OK to say it, you know." She agreed, although we tried not to be too obvious about it in front of Nate. I mean, it wasn't bad on the level of, say, Dora (Hola! Can you say 'Hola'? Can you do that? Can you? I'll just stand here and wait three or four minutes while you think about it, amigo!), but it wasn't exactly entertainment, either. It was just something you tolerate as a parent, because kids just love the amphetamine-fueled bastard.

Sesame Place knows this, too, which is why nary a live show in the park lacks for Elmo's presence in some way. Here he is with some monster buddies at Abby Cadabby's Treasure Hunt, which is basically 20 minutes of trying to figure out what's in the box. (I so wanted to yell, Gwyneth Paltrow's head! But I didn't. I was very well-behaved on this trip.)

A little later, having achieved their goal, the monsters began to dance in a circle, although Grover was clearly eyeing a side exit and gauging his odds at escape. Elmo, however, had that glazed, absent look that says, Hey! Massachusetts will require insurance coverage for all residents on July 1! Elmo needs help paying for his drugs! Elmo should move there! But his enthusiasm was misplaced. The law's prescription drug component won't kick in until 2008.

Anyway, back to the bug. The attendant has closed the doors and checked the lap bars -- and there's the voice again. What is Elmo thinking about today? it intones from behind the hedge.

The immigration bill? my brain answers back. Barry Bonds? Internet porn?

But I say nothing, of course. I'm not in high school anymore; I should be a mature parent, or at least act like one. And as the bug once again begins to sway in its multidirectional fashion, Nate grips the lap bar and positively beams. And isn't that really all that matters?

Comments

[John]

This is GREAT stuff. Dual diagnosed maybe. But that picture looks like elmo like to humpy humpy duh furniture :-)

So clever and evil. Paltrow's head! WTF I LOVE IT!

[Joe]

Yeah, in our household, that's the default answer anytime someone asks what's in a box. Out of earshot of Nate, hopefully.