Sunday, March 14, 2004

Point-Counterpoint: Ride a Wood Coaster or Eat a Steak?

The current issue of Rollercoaster! magazine has an author biography with the following statement: "Branson presented a tough challenge with time management -- more rides on Ozark Wildcat or another steak at the original Outback Steakhouse?"

We at ARN&R felt this was, indeed, a deep quandary that would undoubtedly face any coaster fan who spent gobs of money and travelled hours out of the way to visit Celebration City, the park where Ozark Wildcat resides. We asked two coaster experts to provide arguments on whether, were they to visit Branson, they would spend their time stuffing their faces with cow parts from awful chain restaurants or actually riding wood coasters they might not have a chance to ride again for a number of years or even decades.

Expert #1: Peter Hoggenbottoms, 38

Oh God. Oh God. I don't even know how to decide a matter of this magnitude. On the one hand, we have an exceptional wood coaster at a neat little park. Its twisting course, unique spiralling drop, and surprising pops of airtime make it very exciting, while its smoothness makes it easy enough on the knees, back, and balls to marathon on for literally hours at a time. Then again, one could wander off into the cultural Mecca that is Branson and go to the Outback Steakhouse. Who could possibly turn down a burnt hunk of low-grade beef from a cookie-cutter restaurant in a tacky tourist trap of a town? You know, I like coasters. But I like cow even more. I think I'd ride the Wildcat three or four times, get a hot dog in the park, and then plunk my ass down at the world's very first Outback for a meal, ambiance, and service exactly like the crummy meal, ambiance, and service I'd receive at any of 6 gatrillion Outbacks wasting space all over the country. It's the logical choice.

Expert #2: Dale Cartwright, 40

You crack whore. What the f*** are you talking about? If I'm blowing my vacation and a wad of cash to go to Branson, do you think I'm going to waste three seconds of my time at a stupid f***ing Outback unless there's nowhere else to eat? I go to the park, ride that Wildcat a billion times, and then I get the f***out of Branson before Yakov Smirnov and Barbara Mandrell catch me and sacrifice me to their master Satan onstage somewhere. Give me a f***ing break here.


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