Devil Crabs and Cobra’s Curse – Doomed by Deli at Howl-O-Scream

Busch Gardens Howl-O-Scream | Tampa

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Busch Gardens’ Howl-O-Scream event offered the sublime treat of thrill rides and the Halloween vibe with haunted houses and costumed creeps. But did my plan to fill up on Cuban sandwiches and devil crabs on the way trick us out of thrills and chills with bellyaches?

We want tricks or treats

We put off visiting Busch Gardens Tampa since moving to Florida. The price was too expensive for our post-relocation budget and I had zero desire to mingle with the peak tourist season crowds.

 

But, with the arrival of autumn, Christa learned of the upcoming Howl-O-Scream event (now in its 18th year) wherein Busch Gardens decks the halls in boughs of horror and costumed employees haunt the paths in variously themed terror motifs.

 

 

Several haunted houses also dotted the map for frightful exploration and the park’s most popular rides were open for night time rollercoastering. That beats a pillowcase full of Necco and Sixlets.

 

So my darling wife scared up some tickets at Publix and surprised me with the plan.

 

After which, I had the brilliant (or inept) idea to incorporate a stop at Brocato’s Sandwich Shop on the way. Their Cuban sandwiches and devil crabs are legendary and they had been on my list for some time.

 

Eat your dinner first

The day arrived and I could hardly wait. When the dinner bell did the bell thing (waiting for the ding), we jumped in the sporty little runabout and made our way to Brocato’s.

 

There we had a meal that one sentence just isn’t suitable to describe. But you can read all about that here.

 

 

Suffice it to say, we ate a lot. With bellies full and clocks ticking, we journeyed to the great theme park in the city.

 

It was at this point that I first considered that eating so much food before riding coasters was not the smartest idea. I kept mum about this revelation to avoid planting the seed of sickness into Christa’s mind.

 

Busch Gardens Howl-O-Scream, we are here.

 

Rumbles in the jungle

A right turn once through the gate soon had us in the Edge of Africa under the shadow our first ride—Cheetah Hunt.

 

Christa went to put her purse into a locker after an employee said it wouldn’t be allowed on the ride.

 

 

Pro Tip: Whatever things you might need while enjoying an amusement park are best kept in pockets unless you want to be making trips to lockers throughout your bounce from coaster to coaster. Wear cargo shorts with big pockets and leave your purses at home.

 

All geared up to ride our first roller coaster in years, I again thought of my tum full of sandwich, devil crabs, and potato balls, all swimming in gastric juices and Coke Zero. Did I feel sick already?

 

Don’t think about it. Find your happy place. Om.

 

If I do go green and need to…evacuate upper-level systems, what happens to the people seated behind me?

 

Focus on the fun, not the tum.

 

Mind over matter

We strapped in. I stared into the twilight beyond the short tunnel ahead of us.

 

My breath paced. Slowly in through the nose, slowly out through the mouth. Repeat.

 

A valve opened, a burst of compressed air sounded, the car lurched. We accelerated around the first bend. I suppressed thoughts of my stomach and entered distraction mode.

 

I screamed, whooped, hollered, and did my best Slim Pickens imitation. Suddenly I had that feeling that I’d missed for so long — the thrill of the ride.

 

Oh, but what was that other feeling? Sort of like motion—

 

I suppressed the thought, wiped my brow, and concentrated on the ride.

 

We braked hard to a stop. That was…fun. Okay, maybe there was nothing to worry about. I could manage this with good old mind over matter. All I needed was to focus on the fun factor while my stomach slowly moved its cargo to the next depot.

 

One down, five to go. Oh, no.

Christa got a strange vibe from the looks of the Cobra’s Curse ride. I agreed and we put a pin in it until later in the night.

 

I psyched myself up during the walk up the entrance to next ride, Montu. Here, Christa broke that she had a queasy feeling. I admitted my affliction and we agreed to stick it out and ride on.

 

But we failed to consider that Montu was a suspended/inverted coaster. The g-forces would be different and possibly devastating.

 

 

Staying optimistic yet practical, I chose an outside seat from which to blow if the need arose. For whatever that was worth on a speeding train of open seats doing loopity loops.

 

The gate dropped and we climbed up the first incline. Soon, the whole of Hillsborough County appeared beneath us from horizon to horizon to…well, its a circle, so….

 

To occupy my mind I looked to see if I could see my house from there but the setting sun and the darkening gray clouds made it impossible. So did the distance.

 

The bottom fell out from under us.

 

My breathing and focus worked to keep me under control. I screamed deep diaphragmatic whoops and forced my mind into fun mode. The cars zipped around the track and through the loops.

With my composure maintained I notched another ride on my belt as we pulled into the station.

 

Christa—not so much.

 

The coaster camera belied her experience. (I took a pic, but it would be cruel of me to publish it.) Sickness overcame her and we needed to take a break.

 

Seeing her predicament, my mental blocks crumbled and I too felt a quaver of nausea.

 

I must say, I’m getting a bit peaky just transcribing these memories.

 

Just walk it off

I ask my wife, a nurse, how long it takes food the leave the stomach. She replied two hours minimum.

 

Okay, I reasoned, the best case scenario is we walk around for an hour, tour some Howl-O-Scream haunted houses and then try another ride once our tums settle.

 

We had thirty minutes to kill before the haunted houses opened. So, we sat for a bit, sipped water from the fountain, then decided to stroll the rest of the park.

 

 

We soon found ourselves at the entrance to Kumba, another must-ride coaster.

 

My brain said I could force myself to survive it but I wasn’t disappointed that Christa said she needed more time. I declined her release to go it alone.

But I’m feeling much better, now

We continued south and passed through one of several “scare zones” with gory props and masked fiends wielding whining toothless chainsaws and rubber hatchets.

 

 

Screams from travelers behind us slashed the night air. We exited the mayhem at the foot of SheiKra, a tall coaster with multiple loops.

 

After a sit-down and a few sips of Powerade (it’s got electrolytes), Christa said she felt better and wanted to give it a try. A glimmer of setting sun peeked through the clouds.

 

 

SheiKra’s traditional track made things tolerable and the negative angle plunge didn’t hurt the bellies as I had feared. We had a great time and thoroughly enjoyed the ride.

 

Our survival lent us renewed optimism. If we proceed with caution, the night could be saved.

 

A taste of Howl-O-Scream

We next came to the first open haunted house, “Motel Hell”

 

We decided to get in line and were only the fifth or sixth from the front. But those with “front-of-the-line-access” kept arriving and we stagnated in the queue.

 

My impatience got the better of me and we decided to try another coaster. Besides, there were five other haunted houses and we had all night. Time was on our side.

 

Curse, smurse. We’ve got this. Right?

Disoriented in the darkness, we unexpectedly found ourselves at Cobra’s Curse. Nervous, but willing, Christa ruefully agreed to knock it out.

 

Drops of rain bounced off our skin and we both commented that we might get wet on this one. The mist stayed light as we climbed the winding stairs to the ride.

 

A short line had us shortly in the car and we launched, both of us gripping the bar for stomachical fortitude.

 

Cobra’s Curse starts out with the car being raised on an elevator to the top of the first downhill drop. So far, so good and the increased drizzle of rain felt cool on the clammy skin.  I took up my breathing exercises.

 

The first drop and climb didn’t seem so bad. If I had researched these rides, maybe watched a YouTube video, I’d have known what was to come next.

 

We crested the second hill and it happened.

 

A mechanism released and each car began to rotate while we were propelled forward and we found ourselves facing rearward. The front seat became the back seat. But we continued racing along the track—backward.

 

Christa protested, “No. No, no. NO,” with a few curses of her own. Rocketing in reverse, I repeated my breathing mantra out loud. I was informed that my voice was not helping.

 

The cars began another rotation, this time several in a row as we traced a loopty-loop. Finally, we slowed and entered the station to some of the most nautical language I’ve ever heard from my wife’s lips.

 

Cobra’s Curse was Christa’s doom. Without her uttering a further word, I knew our coaster riding was done for the night.

 

I don’t think the heavy stuff’s gonna come down for quite a while

The sky burst while we descended the stairs and we emerged to a torrential downpour.

 

We huddled under cover with a dozen others who hadn’t consumed enough alcohol to give two flips about getting soaked.

 

Christa and I decided to give the rain thirty minutes to subside. The haunted houses were still in operation. Despite the shower, the lines for those were so long we’d be drenched before getting in.

 

I watched the radar on my phone for another fifteen minutes before realizing there was at least another half hour of rain ahead. We agreed to cash it in and call it a night.

 

Ill-equipped for the unpredictable Tampa weather (we’re such noobs) we suffered a soaking and made our wet way amid the ponchoed thrill seekers through the entrance and to the trams.

 

We made it to our car drenched, dejected, and green around the gills.

 

 

Well, that adventure went well.

Licking our wounds

I shed my soaking shirt and suggested Christa do the same. She declined and was understandably light on humor due to still being motion sick.

 

To tell the truth, I was still sick, too, but I quelled it to get home.

 

We discussed the disappointment and waste of money. I tried to stitch a silver lining into the dark cloud. That meal at Brocato’s was fantastic.

 

But I should have known better than to pack in so much food before roller coasters. It was a shame, but it was really all my fault. I beat myself up about it. What was I thinking?

 

Christa felt bad for being the sickest, but what kind of nonsense is that? As if you can keep yourself from being sick.

 

And we did get in four out of six roller coaster rides. Though no haunted houses, which were kind of the point of the event.

 

We made each other feel better about the whole debacle as the rain subsided within five miles of the park.

 

Now warm and on the way home, our spirits lifted a bit. I tried my best to drive as smoothly and stop as gradually as possible at each light and turn.

 

Thoughts from the recliner

I had let my lust for food overwhelm my logic. You blockhead. What a fool I was.

 

My guilt resurfaced once home. We needed to get dry and warm, maybe sip some camomille and we’d be two cozy Peter Rabbits sans watercress.

 

I put the kettle on and changed, then settled into the recliner with my mug. Christa nestled into the couch with hers.

 

It wasn’t a total loss. We had enjoyed a great supper and luckily the motion sickness hadn’t ruined that.

 

And we did get to enjoy three rides. We enjoyed the walks through the scare zones which were sort of like outdoor haunted houses. The Halloween atmosphere permeated the park and set the season.

 

We decided that it was a pretty worthwhile event. We’ll just have to wait a year before we get to see the rest of it.

 

And in the end…

So that’s it—lesson learned. No eating big meals before trips to expensive amusement parks where you intend to get your fun from rides that spin, hurdle, twist, stop, drop, and roll.

 

That lesson could have come before my fourth decade.

 

I do hope it was simply the full stomach and not a permanent reaction to roller coasters due to growing older. Only more rides will prove the truth. I’ll need to look for some upcoming carnivals with rides I can use to test it.

 

Of course, then I’ll have to save the tasty fair vittles for afterward.

 

But that’s food for future thought.

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• What’s your worst amusement park experience?
• Do you have any sure-fire cures for motion sickness?
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