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I always had an annual pass to Great America while growing up. Often I had to save the $34 it cost, but some years family friends would purchase it for me. I always got my money's worth since my friend Missy and I would be dropped off during the summer with full reign of the park. I can't imagine parents doing that now, but for some reason it seemed perfectly safe back then.

Missy and I would head directly for the photo booth to get our pics taken and then for the Smurf Village where we would pretend we were smurfs and play in their mushroom houses and then ride the little smurf roller coaster over and over again. If we weren't in the Smurf Village we would be eating pizza and then going straight on the spinning rides. Never could I do that now. In fact I can't even go on a spinning ride without having just eaten...let alone after a greasy slice of cheese pizza. The newest ride was The Edge: a bright orange hunk of iron that would drop 153' straight down at 60 mph. I refused to go on this. My limit was The Grizzly which was this rickety wooden coaster that always seemed as if it would break at any moment. I remember being so excited when my Grandpa visited when I was 8 and went on it with me. He laughed this hearty laugh the whole time. I had never seen him that happy.

While visiting Magic Mountain for the first time on Saturday, I couldn't help but be flooded with memories of Great America. The churro smell. The kids sprinting from ride to ride. Even certain buildings looked exactly like ones that had been at Great America. I went with my friend Trevor and a bunch of his guy friends. I must say that their enthusiasm was contagious. If it weren't for their man-child excitement, I might have really let my anxiety for my dog being stuck inside all day, the cold temperature, the long lines and the Keds without laces that I chose to wear that left me barefoot really get to me. The excitement of these guys mixed with the memories of another amusement park brought back the childish glee I once felt when my Mom pulled in front of Great America and said, "Have fun!"

Magic Mountain opened May 30, 1971 and admission cost $5 for the day. It now costs $62 at the gate (we got a deal for having a group of 10.).

Vintage Venice Beach t-shirt; green Old Navy cardigan; gray H&M trousers; vintage necklaces; blue keds; yellow leather purse from a boutique in Paris.

I took off my strands of vintage flea market necklaces right before the first ride...no need to get choked just so my outfit looked cooler.

I thought wearing a long strapped purse across my chest was perfect for an amusement park, but these roller coasters are insane and I had to put it in a locker for each ride.