Theme Park Thrills, Chills--and Steep Bills : Our Intrepid Reporters Get Taken for Rides Again and Again and Again . . .

Sundays in the park have changed.

The depiction by turn-of-the-century French artist Georges Seurat is so serene that we can imagine it being accompanied by a sound track of chirping birdies and squealing kids (in the distance, so as not to be too loud) at play.

Update Seurat’s scenario in “Sunday Afternoon on the Island of the Grande Jatte” to today and you’ll find that Sundays in the park are likely to be accompanied by the wicked roar of a roller coaster as it charges by at 65 miles an hour (with a chorus of shrieking hostage riders). As for the sounds of children, well, they’re apt to be screaming out: “Let’s hurry and get in line!”

Then there’s the clink of coins pulled out of pockets and the rustling of dollar bills being wrenched from wallets, to be exchanged for services rendered.

We’re talking theme parks, 1988.

Bear in mind: No matter which park you choose to visit, you will spend a lot of money! If you don’t believe cheap thrills are a thing of the past, check out the accompanying chart.

Note that in order to enhance their admission dollars, the parks have come up with interesting ways of determining just when it is that a kid becomes an adult.

To the folks at Magic Mountain, it’s when a kid’s over 48 inches. (Break out a yardstick; then call over your 8-, 9- or 10-year-old; you may be in for a surprise.) At Disneyland and Knott’s, it’s when a kid hits age 12.

This may come as a shock to a lot of parents who thought adulthood was linked to the acquisition of a driver’s license--at least.

Notice also that admission prices are competitive at the various parks. Not coincidentally, so is the mania to launch new rides. Although, with few exceptions, the new rides aren’t exactly “new.”

Disneyland’s upcoming Splash Mountain flume ride is a variation on Magic Mountain’s Log Jammer, which is a variation on Knott’s Berry Farm’s Timbermountain Log Ride. Knott’s just-opened Bigfoot Rapids is its version of Magic Mountain’s wet ‘n’ wild Roaring Rapids. Got the (copycat) message?

So how are the parks?

On a recent Sunday, Calendar reporters, joined by a family or a friend, decided to find out by visiting the Southland’s seven major theme parks.

We bought tickets, stood in lines, weathered the heat, sampled the fast foods and hit the souvenir stands. We didn’t tell the parks we were coming.

(Not all were thrilled to discover that we’d dropped in “incognito.” Many park publicists like the press to visit during specially organized “media days,” which are usually scheduled so there’s no standing in lines!)

We did contact the park reps afterward to obtain Sunday’s details. As a sign of the heavy competitiveness between them, some parks collectively decided not to provide us with certain details--especially attendance figures.

(When told of one park’s food sales claims, another park claimed its competitor’s figures were inflated: “How could they have sold that many hamburgers?!”)

From our collective experience, we offer this advice to prospective park visitors: Get plenty of sleep the night before, wear comfortable shoes, bring a jacket (no matter how hot it gets during the day, those temperatures will drop at nighttime). And--easily most important--bring plenty of cash--the folding kind.

And now, for your “ride”:

Disneyland: The Mouse That Roared

As the granddaddy of theme parks, Disneyland operates like a well-oiled mousetrap. Though it’s doubtful there’s ever been so much as a spot of oil on these grounds! They’re so super-clean that Disney publicists brag about the 3,000 mops, 1,000 brooms and 500 dustpans used annually.

Good clean fun is also what you get with the rides--more theme than thrills. Technology--not twists, turns and drops--is what’s pushed.

Little wonder that the park’s last new attraction, the George Lucas-designed “Star Tours”--which takes visitors on a simulated journey into space largely via screen visuals and “shaking” seats--is the park’s most popular attraction. (As a result, it’s often dazzling maximum-capacity crowds of 1,600 persons per hour.)

Of course, for a ride that really moves, you can’t top Space Mountain. The Southland’s only dark (fully enclosed) roller-coasterish ride (no major drops, but lots of terrific careening) is also the smoothest.

In contrast, the bobsleds of the Matterhorn jerk about their tracks--a result of a 1978 refurbishing that added the silly abominable snowman and new double bobsleds. Alas, in increasing ride capacity, the thrills are also cut down noticeably. Gone is the swift, smooth “feel” they once had.

Still awesome after all these years, though: Pirates of the Caribbean. No matter how often you ride this one, it’s hard not to be awed by its audio-animatronics (those animated figures) who Yo-Ho-Ho and swashbuckle about. What a treat! When we hit this ride at 9 p.m., it was near-empty. The couple in front of us even managed a private boat. (FYI, the nearby Haunted Mansion is equally mesmerizing.)

If your taste leans toward the saccharine--and especially if you’ve got small fry--then you’re probably going to want/ have to cruise through It’s a Small World. We weren’t that brave: The thought of that cutesy tune pounding in our heads (in a multitude of languages, no less) for days on end was too terrifying!

We don’t mind admitting that we’re looking forward to Splash Mountain, now under construction. To open in January, 1989, in Bear Country (where most rides are closed as a result of the work), it’s based on the Disney film “Song of the South” and will be a combination thrill-ride and show. We’re willing to bet that technology will again be the scene-stealer: Figure, along with a flume ride, there’ll be a revamped steam-train ride that will pass through the center of a glass tunnel commanding a view of Splash Mountain’s 52-foot drop finale.

Ever promotion-minded, the Magic Kingdom is now in the midst of a 60th birthday celebration for the world’s most famous rodent, who doesn’t seem to have aged that much. Mickey Mouse perches atop a huge globe at the park entrance where “birthday prizes” are awarded to randomly selected kids.

The celebration is closely observed in the park’s many shops, where 60th birthday souvenirs include a commemorative medallion (the one-ounce sterling silver medallion goes for $45) and a collector’s plate for $29.95. The more practical-minded might opt for the Mickey birthday sweat shirt--a semi-steal at $20.

As for our perennial favorites, the Main Street Electrical Parade (complete with its wondrous dragon) still dazzles--in every sense. And we were wowed by “The Wonders of China,” the 360-degree film experience (that really does have to be seen to be understood/believed) that takes us across that country.

Well, we didn’t love everything about the park.

The highly touted Blue Bayou restaurant, on New Orleans Square, was a disappointment. It was much too cold inside. To boot, our chicken dish wasn’t done enough--and had to be sent back twice . Considering the prices (among the park’s most expensive for food) and the half-hour wait, we’d rather have had a hamburger.

As for snacks, well, it’s near-impossible to ignore them. Along with its many food concessions, Disneyland has eight popcorn wagons (and let’s not forget that salt makes you thirsty) and 19 Carnation ice cream carts. Coincidentally, those snack carts are strategically located near rides with the longest lines. Hmmmmm.

We confess, we fell prey to the strategy: We had a frozen banana while waiting for Star Tours. How’s that saying go? If you can’t beat ‘em, buy ‘em. . . ?

Knott’s Berry Farm: Berry Thrilling

Meanwhile, north of Disneyland is its hot and heavy competitor, Knott’s Berry Farm.

Once a roadside berry stand, with a (now famed) Chicken Dinner Restaurant and a Ghost Town (to give those waiting for meals something to do), it’s now a major 165-ride theme park. It’s also much cozier than we expected it would be.

That discovery began in the parking lot, where there are large, shady trees, and where you actually get to choose your own parking spot! (Compare this to Disneyland’s endless asphalt plains, where each visitor is directed to an exact tight-squeeze slot.)

Once inside the park gates, you find a farmy-green world with hedges, flower patches, white-painted picket fences and lots of shade and wood benches. The word that comes to mind is homey .

As for the park’s newest, mega-hyped attraction, Bigfoot Rapids, we can describe that in a single word too: Wet. If you want two words, try Inescapably Wet .

A white-water rafting ride--following in the current of Magic Mountain’s Roaring Rapids--it’s located in Wild Water Wilderness, a 3 1/2-acre area that, we’re told, will someday have a bass-stocked lake, 300 trees and other flora and fauna indigenous to California. Right now, though, it’s largely a bald patch with spouting sprinklers.

A sign at the entrance to Bigfoot Rapids warns off the unhealthy, recommends that riders leave loose items with non-riders and says the park isn’t responsible for damage to clothing, etc. A repeating audio warning (that includes plugs for Alaska Airlines, “sponsor” of the ride) includes the caveat, “You will get wet. . . .” Another sign adds: “You may get drenched.”

They ain’t kiddin’.

By the time you and your five fellow-fools are spinning down the churning -mile concrete channel in a round 10-foot raft, you’re well aware of just how soaked some of you will get. That’s because while standing in line you’ve been watching raft after free-floating raft full of the doomed go under one of Bigfoot’s two junior Niagaras. Each waterfall reaches far into the channel and is guaranteed to dump uncounted gallons of water on two passengers. Everyone gets splashed, but the extremely unlucky can get soaked down to their wallets twice.

Actually, a cynic would say that one Bigfoot Rapids ride can soak you and your wallet as many as three times; twice literally, and a third time if you’re wet enough to require a Bigfoot Rapids towel ($6.95) or dry clothing. Bigfoot T-shirts, tank tops and sweat shirts (from $7.95 to almost $20), along with plastic rain ponchos ($2.95) and rain bonnets (39 cents) for those who think ahead, are strategically located for sale where waterlogged adventurers exit.

All splashing aside, even though some riders’ teeth were chattering and most were peeling layers of wet clothing from their bodies, Bigfoot Rapids survivors were all smiles. In 20 minutes of watching exiting rafters, not one visibly annoyed rider was glimpsed. (We talked with a couple of teens from Bakersfield who looked like drowned puppies but were prepping to go on the ride again, this time with their fainthearted cousin in tow.)

Oh, in case you’re wondering where Mr. Bigfoot is during all this, well, we definitely saw his ominous monster-footprints and we heard his roars. As for any confirmed sightings, a Knott’s publicist swears that “if you’re really alert” as your raft sloshes through the tunnel, you might catch a glimpse of the Big Guy. But hey, we were so traumatized by the looming second waterfall (we’d already gotten drenched once), that he could have jumped right into our raft and we’d have barely noticed!

Throughout our Knott’s visit, we never got a sense of overcrowding. Even the line to the Log Ride, the zippy, twisting 2,100-foot waterway that is the park’s most popular ride, was less than 15 minutes long.

The wait was even less for Calico Mine, a realistically rickety and satisfying 7-minute, 51-second ore-car excursion through a dark mine.

And there was no wait at all for Knott’s’ second-most-popular attraction, Kingdom of the Dinosaurs. A “time travel” experience (see, you’re in these little cars, but you’re really going back 300 million years, via time travel), the eight-minute ride takes you to the awesome age of the dinosaurs. Trust us, the massive, moving (and screeching) Tyrannosaurus rex and its lumbering cousins proved impressive to adults, scary to tykes.

Scarier still: The ride’s exit ramp conveniently deposits time travelers into Dinosaur Digs, a gift shop with shelves stocked with dinosaur pinatas ($8.75), tyrannosaurus slippers ($22.95), a 4-foot stuffed dino ($75), dinosaur candy, posters, books, games, dishes, cups, lunchboxes and Knott’s-branded T-shirts of all shapes and sizes. And for that person who has everything: How about a $940 slab of fossilized squid?

For a stomach-churning (as opposed to wallet-churning) scare, there’s Montezooma’s Revenge--a furious 37-second high-speed job that hurtles its victims upside down through a loop forwards and then backwards and would leave John Glenn traumatized. It makes Space Mountain seem like kids’ stuff.

Also “musts” for thrill buffs: The Corkscrew (it does just its name implies) and the 20-story Parachute Drop (say bye-bye to your stomach).

We also challenged the GranSlammer, and didn’t find it worth the five-minute wait. And Gasoline Alley’s motorcars, the visit’s longest wait at nearly 25 minutes, were a drag for adults. But they thrilled a 3-year-old, as did all of Camp Snoopy’s six acres of games and rides (all aimed at small fry).

Of course, we also checked out the food, and found it good, diverse, reasonably priced and all over the place. In fact, there are so many good food smells wafting around Knott’s (barbecued beef ribs, cinnamon rolls, freshly made tostadas, etc.--and watch the Log Ride riders fall prey to the funnel cakes, located just opposite the ride!) that it’s a wonder so many people are able to save their appetites for the park’s famed Chicken Dinner Restaurant (where $7.95 brings an ample homemade chicken dinner). Oh, and in case you need them, there are a few jams and jellies available too.

Universal Studios Tour: Hollywood Confidential

A great white shark--its jaws opened menacingly--leaps out of the water, right in front of you!

A flash flood threatens to wash you away!

King Kong is close enough to grab you right out of your seat!

A lake parts, Red Sea-style, so you can drive through!

A bridge threatens to collapse beneath you!

Phew! Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride was never like this.

But what has any of this got to do with movie making?

Nothing--and everything. In its quest to compete with Disneyland and the rest of the parks, Universal Studios has turned its 24-year-old (as of July 8) tour into one prolonged thrill ride.

As a result, it’s moved further and further away from its roots as a behind-the-scenes peek at the magical workings of a movie (and TV) factory. Paradoxically, Hollywood’s preeminent movie-studio tour is a lot like Hollywood’s movies: heavy on special effects, light on substance.

The fact that our visit to Universal came on a Sunday, when there was no filming going on (“But keep your eyes open,” our guide told us, “because sometimes the stars come in to work on the weekend”--Ha!), undoubtedly enhanced the notion that this was less a place where people labor at creating fantasies than a huge fantasy adventure itself. Perhaps they’re trying to put Disneyland’s Jungle Cruise to shame?

Once a leisurely trip down Memory Lane past sets that played host to thousands of movies and TV shows, the tour via the 177-seat trams is now punctuated every few minutes by killer animals, space robots, spinning tunnels and other supposed brushes with calamity. Midway through, you’re dropped off at a rest stop furnished with some of the gigantic props--telephone, revolver, chair--from “The Incredible Shrinking Man” and “The Incredible Shrinking Woman.”

(Go ahead and snap a picture of the kids atop the giant phone. But don’t dawdle too long: We had to wait in line 20 minutes to board another tram that would continue our special-effects odyssey.)

Even the one part of the tour that overtly deals with how movies are made focuses on--what else?--special effects. This is on a half-hour stop at a sound stage, where the guides explain--with help from a specially produced film hosted by Robert Wagner--how Fred Astaire appeared to dance on the ceiling in “Royal Wedding,” how the matte process made it seem as if the boys appeared to be riding their bicycles through midair in “E.T.” and how music and sound effects enhance a “Miami Vice” scene.

Once the tram tour ends, you’re back in the so-called Entertainment Center that you cover on foot, only to find--surprise!--more special effects. There’s the long-running Western stunt show, with its mock fistfight, whipping and shoot-out; a Conan the Barbarian stage show, featuring a dragon and lasers; and the year-old “Miami Vice” show, which serves up 20 minutes of action--gunfire, explosions, speedboats and more.

But wait--all is not lost. The just-opened Star Trek Adventure, a participatory attraction, actually dares to show how a scenario (“Star Trek,” natch) is staged, acted and filmed for the cameras (OK, so there are special effects too). And 29 folks from the audience (of some 2,000) get to participate, playing Enterprise crew members, Klingons and also working behind the scenes.

The outcome--complete with credits listing the “new” stars and production personnel--is edited together with bits and pieces of the “Star Trek” movies and given a music track. Then it’s played back to the live audience.

If it’s not exactly how movies are made, it comes close.

For a mere $6 over the price of your initial admission ticket, you can get a season pass for unlimited return visits throughout the year. That suggests a realization that once you’ve seen the Universal Studios tour, there isn’t much reason to return again soon.

P.S.: Universal’s phone message recommended allotting six hours to see everything, but that turned out to be on the low side. Our visit on a relatively slow day took seven hours, but we didn’t see the animal show and nearly missed Conan because we spent 20 minutes waiting for a hamburger at the Flower Drum fast-food counter. Maybe we should have opted for popcorn and Milk Duds.

Magic Mountain: Roughing It

If it’s thrills you want, Magic Mountain’s the place.

The Rambo of theme parks is especially famed for its roller coasters.

Newest on the scene is the Ninja, which is suspended from an overhead track, hits speeds of 55 m.p.h. and banks at a 90-degree angle through high-speed spirals. Neat idea; too bad that at present, the concept beats the execution. (Sometimes these rides get better as they go along. The “bugs” can be worked out of cars and tracks and safety bars, etc.)

Still, there’s no denying that Ninja delivers a wondrous flying sensation (though unfortunately, there are no “killer” drops).

Too bad that to experience that sensation requires such a hefty price. We’re talking time. As the park’s new kid on the mountain, Ninja’s line requires about a 90-minute wait (the line stretches waaaaay down the mountain). For thrillmeisters it’s a worthwhile wait; all others would better spend their time on the still-dandy Great American Revolution (with its stomach-churning 360-degree loop) and the aptly titled Shock Wave.

Easily the baaaadest roller coaster in the Southland, Shock Wave requires its riders to stand, then propels them at daring speeds and equally daring angles along a half-mile coiled gray steel track (that looks chilling from a distance) that includes that 360-degree loop. Signs posted up and down the line tell riders they must keep their feet firmly on the floor of the cars. They’re right; anyone who lets go could wind up with guacamole for brains. This thing is mean! But it’s also so unique--so “totally awesome” (as our teen-aged riding companion declared)--that after surviving, you want to climb aboard for seconds. No kidding!

This is not to negate the power--and importance (among roller-coaster aficionados)--of Colossus.

Simply put, it’s in a league by itself.

The largest dual-track wooden roller coaster in the world, it looms on the freeway side of the park like a massive dinosaur that has lost its way in the modern world. It so dwarfs the rest of the attractions that many would-be riders take one look and then head in the opposite direction.

Too bad! Because if Shock Wave is Southern California’s baaaaadest coaster, Colossus is the best. From its opening 110-foot drop to its bronco-like attack of the tracks across some two miles of twists, turns and weightlessness, it’s a class act that takes the breath away.

Fans of Sickie City rides (the kind that spin and twist and generally put the head and stomach through all manner of gymnastics) will also enjoy Z-Force (which is similar to the loathsome Hammer ride that’s a carnival staple), Spin Out (“The floor drops out and you stick to the wall,” said a grim 9-year-old observer) and the stalwart Turbo, the one where you start out standing up and wind up flipping through the sky on your sides.

(A bit of wisdom where thrill rides are concerned: Don’t get on anything without watching it through a full cycle. There’s no telling what the thing might do!)

Now for the park’s low points: Magic Mountain would be wise to clean up its act.

Parts of the park--especially in the ride line areas--are a mess! Trash cans are overflowing, there’s a “wall of gum” (ewww, gross!) just outside the entrance to the Great American Revolution. Some of the park’s hillsides--visible by leaning out over rails for a scenic vista peek--could use some help from a clean-up crew.

There’s a food service problem, too. We stood in line for a gourmet hamburger at Granny Spillikins Table--and gosh those burgers looked and smelled good. But in 15 minutes we moved up only a foot--with about 5 feet left to go. After a failed effort at yet another food stand, we wound up eating OK Mexican at La Cantina. But again, we wound up waiting.

Queen Mary & Spruce Goose: A Shipboard Romance

We’re tempted to call the Queen Mary/Spruce Goose complex, hunkered down at the end of Interstate 710 in Long Beach, the un-theme park.

As run by the Wrather Corp., it’s part amusement park, part hotel, part floating nostalgia center, part enigma. It’s simultaneously a great place to go with the kids and a confusing one.

Running hotels and drilling for oil are Wrather’s usual lines. We didn’t think it was the amusement park business. Otherwise, it would be easier to get into the park proper. As it stands, you’ve got to go to three separate places to get a complete admission--and, so far as the Queen herself is concerned, it’s not set up like a “park.”

Supposedly, patrons follow the self-guided tour pattern of the ship from stern below-decks to bow above-decks; but in practice you’ve got people wandering all over the place, especially around the (unusual) shops in Piccadilly Circus and the Promenade Deck. So there’s no real focus of activity, aside from the (excellent) eateries and shops.

You also have to deal with the fact that there are no rides as such. (The Queen Mary cashed in her riding days in 1967.)

All this will doubtless change, since Wrather’s just sold the Queen Mary complex to Walt Disney Co. Which explained why the complex was smack dab in the midst of a transition when we visited.

Our tour guide was generally enthusiastic and knowledgeable, but it was obvious she was unsure which items on the tour to emphasize now that Mickey Mouse is at the rudder.

Hopefully, the Disney folks’ marketing savvy can eradicate the Queen Mary’s hit-and-miss quality. It certainly couldn’t hurt the Spruce Goose, which presently teeters between being an attraction and a shrine to late billionaire Howard Hughes.

Hughes’ persona is apparent throughout the Goose-dome, from the gift shop (with its $35 videos about the life of Hughes, to a Hughes-esque fedora for $32.50) to the numerous informational audio-visual displays detailing the massive seaplane’s history. Ah, but the Hughesiana glosses over the man’s more eccentric traits; to us, the history that was given seemed almost Stalinist in its fervor for revisionism.

The Goose herself--all 320 feet of her, wing tip to wing tip--is awesome, more so than even a skeptic would admit, and her sheer presence is one of the complex’s trump cards. A two-stop micro-tour of the plane’s innards--featuring (but of course) an intrepid-looking Hughes dummy at the controls--leaves you famished for more, even if the two-flight schlep up the stairs to get to the viewing areas is a bit much for older people.

And then there’s the Queen herself. Impossibly huge (1,019 feet long, 118 feet wide, 81,237 tons heavy) and incredibly graceful, even moored to a quay. If nothing else, a visit to her decks will make your family smitten with the notion to take a cruise.

The oceangoing fever gets even worse if you take the Captain’s Tour, a genuine bargain at $5 per person. A generous 90 minutes of walking, it takes you into many areas you can’t otherwise see--the defunct boiler rooms, erstwhile libraries and card rooms. All of which delivers a sense of the Grand Age of the Ocean Liner (a real treat, for those of us too young to have experienced it).

The Queen’s restaurants are all quite good, with some fare rising well above that level. The shops also have more tasteful goods than you usually find at parks (well, you can find kitsch too).

The ocean air, the lack of bustle and hype and the friendliness of the staff make the Queen Mary complex by far the most relaxed amusement park in the area. As a bonus, you can board the ship during the evening hours for a small deposit ($3) that is refunded with your purchase of food or other stuff; this is usually possible during the day as well, though not so much on weekends. So enjoy.

San Diego Sea World: Looks and Sounds Fishy

While in a seafaring mood: For a while the most noticeably inoperative ride at San Diego’s Sea World was the one trainers used to take on the backs of killer whales.

The park suspended the crowd-thrilling rides last fall when 5-ton Orky, formerly of Marineland in Palos Verdes, came up short on an attempted leap over another whale. Trainer John Sillick, who was sandwiched between them, is now recovering from a shattered pelvis and broken ribs.

The rides hadn’t yet resumed when we visited (though they are back in operation now), which may explain the low attendance.

This is not to complain. We’ll take a half-empty theme park over a full house any time. (Even on a day like ours, when it was cloudy, then sunny, then cloudy . . . which meant jacket on, jacket off. . . . It looked like a Charlie Chaplin movie out there.)

Now noisily celebrating its 25th anniversary on man-made Mission Bay, Sea World is an ocean-oriented variety show. Kind of an Ed Sullivan from Atlantis City. No, there’s no Topogigio, but there are four killer whales with cute names (Orky, Corky, Kandu and Shamu), acrobatic dolphins and porpoises and sea lions that do stand-up comedy and walruses that can spit in your face from 20 feet.

You can get wet in several ways at Sea World. At the walrus exhibit, our reporter’s 9-year-old daughter got nailed by a mouthful of the stuff the walruses swim in. At Shamu Stadium she and her 10-year-old brother were in the blue seats--the first six rows--when a Shamu belly flop sent hundreds of gallons of water crashing into the delighted crowd.

(Adults can get wet at the margarita or tropical drink stands. Beer is readily available throughout the park, and at PJ’s, the bayside restaurant, you can knock back a bottle of wine with your lunch.)

Even without their jockeys, the killer whales still put on the best show at Sea World. Seeing the huge creatures leap and spin above the surface of the water is dizzying stuff, for both kids and adults. Some of us may not be proud that our species is able to make 10,000-pound animals beg for their meals, but when three of these giants pop onto a wet stage for a final bow, seeing three tap-dancing dinosaurs would not leave a greater impression.

There are several ways in which creatures from the sea are presented at Sea World. Some are presented as fish, others as fish dinners. Exotic live fish are on display in the Freshwater Aquarium, the Marine Aquarium and the Shark Exhibit. Dead fish are served deep-fried at the Seafood Galley, or pan-fried, grilled or baked at PJ’s. And of course thousands of pounds of raw fish are presented each day, as rewards, to the performing animals.

You can buy dead fish at several exhibits (they come in what look like paper hot dog dishes, three or four fish to a “dish”) and make the animals beg yourself. At the whale and dolphin petting zoo, kids can touch a dolphin’s cool, leathery skin while you plop a fish into its mouth.

Animals aren’t the only performers at Sea World. Humans strut their stuff in the Muscle Beach show, basically a diving exhibition with some cornball bikini and beefcake antics thrown in. It gets laughs from the kids. And City Streets, a musical revue held on a movie set of a downtown (New York?) street, features a skateboarder whose act is almost as awesome as Shamu’s.

Still, the killer whales are the heart of Sea World, so potential visitors might take heart that the trainers are back atop their steeds of the sea. The show goes on. Leap, Orky! Leap!

Wild Animal Park: For Nature Lovers

The big attraction at the San Diego Wild Animal Park is a monorail that circles 600 acres of parkland containing more than 2,000 animals. It’s the only “ride” at the park. And, sadly, it’s a snore.

For much of the 62-minute trek on a recent breezy Sunday--it’s supposed to be 10 minutes shy of an hour but often lasts longer--a baby cried and cried.

The poor thing looked as hopeless as a hostage in West Beirut. Maybe he was just more vocal about his reaction than the 124 others on board, some of whom seemed to be wondering, “Is this all there is?”

Make no mistake, the Wild Animal Park--located in the shadow of Escondido, the home of champagne music king Lawrence Welk-- is a neat place. But its main-event monorail is overrated to the point of being marginal. Shall we say . . . avoidable?

By skipping it, you could still have a great time at a park that has a bigger investment in its 3 million plants than it does in its herds of animals.

It’s the ambiance of this rustic hideaway (technically, within the city limits of San Diego) that makes it special, even desirable. It’s a getaway from gridlock and hustle-bustle, or maybe just hustle. The pace feels slower. Tranquil to the max. The mind seems to be saying, “Relax. Take it easy, baby. Just relax . . . .”

If the park has a major problem (and the red-faced baby would echo this sentiment), it’s that it’s not really for children. Aside from the petting corral, there’s just not a lot here for kids to relate to. Roller coasters, not nature, seems to be more their (preferred) speed.

But for adults who love nature, well. . . .

A love of nature is encouraged at the Wild Animal Park. And a love of animals seems mandatory. It has 2,700 of ‘em, representing 250 species--with 47 representing the endangered variety. All but three of the endangered have reproduced. (And unless Immaculate Conception happens to those three soon, they won’t be having babies--they don’t have mates.)

The park has bird shows and elephant shows, “Hawk Talk” and “Critter Encounter” and “Animal Antics” to boot. The shows are not as slapstick clever as those at Sea World, which may have the market cornered, but they aren’t Stupid Pet Tricks, either. (David Letterman would walk away without a guest for his next show.)

Of course, if she could talk, Dunda the elephant might make a good guest for Letterman. Dunda is an African elephant--on view in the yard visible from the monorail--that has made juicy headlines because of alleged mistreatment by trainers.

When we didn’t see Dunda on Sunday, we asked about her whereabouts. A Wild Animal Park attendant said she was “somewhere out in the yard . . . I just don’t know exactly where.” The park’s publicity staff says attendance hasn’t declined since the Dunda stories; if anything, a mild increase has been recorded.

All headlines aside, the park’s most prominent feature is its serenity. And that should be cherished nowadays, especially on weekends. Especially for those who want a getaway from L.A.

You can stand under a Natal coral tree and watch a ring-tailed lemur scamper up the trunk, or grab an eyeful of tropical fish swimming in a clear-as-glass tropical lagoon. Or walk over a tree-bark bridge and catch the rush of a waterfall below.

If animals are your thing, you can watch as they soak up the San Diego sunshine. Take note: That 18-foot giraffe is the tallest in the world! And watch that springbok run (it can outmaneuver a sable antelope). And check out that rhino; can you believe it weighs 7,000 pounds?

Take Note II: The food is quite ordinary, except for a mouthful of health-food goodies at Mombasa Cooker. But you can’t fault the staff, which is outrageously courteous, and the grounds are impeccably clean. And prices are fair, with stuffed zebras and koalas for as little as $6.50. Or you might want to spend $89 for a wool blanket from Africa.

The Calendar Crew

Our team who went along for the rides on Sunday: Pat H. Broeske (who wrote this report) at Magic Mountain, Elizabeth Hayes at Disneyland, Lee Margulies (assisted by Sue Martin) at Universal Studios Tour, Bill Steigerwald at Knott’s Berry Farm, John Voland at the Queen Mary & Spruce Goose, Jack Mathews at Sea World, Mike Granberry at Wild Animal Park. This project was edited by David Kishiyama.