10 Things I Learned Bringing My Partner to Universal for the First Time
When an Epic Universal Fanatic Met a Coaster-Hating Partner: My Hysterical Lessons Learned
As a seasoned veteran of the Universal Orlando Resort, a man who has practically memorized every cobblestone in Diagon Alley and can recite the pre-show dialogue of every attraction by heart, you’d think I’d have this whole theme park thing down to a science. After all, I run "Epic Universal," a veritable empire of unsolicited theme park advice. Yet, despite my decades of meticulously cultivated expertise and literally dozens of annual pilgrimages, my long-suffering partner, Ema, had, until recently, managed to avoid the full immersion experience. Her interest was, admittedly, less about shared passion and more about my incessant Universal "yapping" reaching critical mass. The grand plan? Convert her into a Harry Potter fanatic, thereby justifying my existence and expanding our shared universe. So, after a forced march through all eight films – a feat of endurance for which she truly deserves a medal – we embarked on our fateful journey.
The first, and perhaps most crucial, lesson learned: Never, under any circumstances, visit Universal Orlando in June. My brain, usually a finely tuned instrument of strategic park planning, apparently decided to take a vacation of its own. It was a suicidal mission into the sweltering heart of summer, a decision I immediately regretted upon stepping out of the car and into a soup of humidity and human perspiration. The crowds, naturally, were biblical.
My second profound realization: The "calm dark ride" deception is a truly exquisite art form. Ema, a connoisseur of all things that don’t involve plummeting at high speeds, was assured that Revenge of the Mummy was merely a leisurely stroll through an ancient tomb. A delightful little journey, I chirped, as we sashayed to the back of Universal Studios Florida, completely ignoring the perfectly sensible advice of starting at the front. The queue, bless its relatively short 20-minute heart, offered ample time for her to decipher the ride’s true intentions. Her nervous squirming as the ride vehicle pulled into the station was, I admit, a sight to behold. A masterpiece of dramatic tension. Which leads me to the third invaluable takeaway: The abject terror of your loved one on a roller coaster is a surprisingly effective form of entertainment. Observing Ema’s wide-eyed horror during the Mummy’s various twists, turns, and fire-laden surprises was, to be perfectly frank, a highlight of my day. It was a beautiful symphony of screams and desperate gripping. And yes, it absolutely confirmed my long-held belief that the Mummy remains one of the resort's finest attractions. Her misery, truly, was my joy. Fourth on the list of revelations: Even the most meticulous planning can be utterly derailed by the whims of animatronics. Our post-Mummy stampede to Diagon Alley, propelled by my desire for her to witness the dragon’s fiery breath (a spectacle which, predictably, terrified her), was swiftly followed by the gut-wrenching discovery that Gringotts, the crown jewel of Wizarding World attractions, was experiencing "technical difficulties." The universe, it seemed, was conspiring against my perfectly choreographed day.
This forced detour, however, unveiled the fifth truth: Sometimes, the universe throws you a perfectly pleasant, if slightly nauseating, curveball. The Simpsons Ride, while not exactly a high-thrill adventure, offered a much-needed comedic interlude after the Mummy-induced trauma and the disappointment of Gringotts being down. It was a brief moment of levity before we circled back to the real prize. The sixth lesson: The pre-show is truly the unsung hero of theme park experiences. Upon our triumphant return to Gringotts, Ema’s delight at encountering the various movie characters in the queue and pre-show areas was genuinely heartwarming. It was a testament to the power of immersive storytelling, even if that storytelling involved goblins and menacing vaults. And the seventh: First drops are everything, but after that, it’s all smooth sailing (mostly). Gringotts, with its initial heart-stopping plunge, proved to be an unexpected hit. Once she’d survived that initial shock, the rest of the ride, a delightful blend of practical effects and screen-based wizardry, apparently became quite enjoyable for her. A true testament to the ride’s subtle charms after the initial shock.
Our journey continued, leading to the eighth profound insight: The Hogwarts Express is a magical mode of transport, but it’s also a time-suck of epic proportions when you only have eight hours. Still, the transition from London to Hogsmeade was essential for the full immersion experience. Ninth, and perhaps the most cynical lesson of all: When faced with a choice between a perfectly enjoyable, albeit slightly dated, dark ride and a truly terrifying roller coaster, always choose the terrifying roller coaster. As our time dwindled, the executive decision was made: Hagrid’s Magical Creatures Motorbike Adventure over Forbidden Journey. While Forbidden Journey might have been the more logical choice for a coaster-averse newbie, the allure of seeing her truly petrified on Hagrid’s was simply too strong to resist. The backwards launch? The surprise drop? Pure, unadulterated schadenfreude. Her white-knuckled grip and genuine fear were, without exaggeration, a thing of beauty.
Finally, the tenth and most enduring lesson: Coaster aversion is a temporary condition, especially when coupled with a partner who finds joy in your misery. Though she despises them in the moment, a strange phenomenon occurs after the fact: Ema finds immense joy in reliving the experience, an almost masochistic pleasure in overcoming the fear. And the thought of mastering the ride’s every twist and turn for a future visit? Apparently, that’s her new obsession. We even walked past the ominous top hat of Velocicoaster on our way out, and while she fled in terror at the mere sight, the fact that she’s already badgering me to go back, practically once a week since our visit, speaks volumes. Perhaps, just perhaps, my decade-long crusade to convert her has finally begun to bear fruit. Or maybe she just enjoys watching me squirm while trying to schedule our next perfectly chaotic Universal adventure. Either way, it was a perfect day.